I sat crisscross in my chair, staring at the screen, the video of Reid crying now over and an ad for kitty litter playing in the background.
I felt conflicted and confused, but most of all… intrigued.
What in the hell happened to Reid King? And why am I watching this five-minute ad for kitty litter?!
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Chapter Two
Brooklyn
The bars in New York were few and far between.
Totally kidding. There were so many bars that, even after several years of being legal and being allowed in said bars, I still hadn’t been to all of them. Jane always picked high-end bars, the types of pubs that wouldn’t actually be caught dead being labeled as such. Even looking at the drink menu made me sneer.
Who can afford a Sidecar when it’s more than an actual car?
Of course, I didn’t drink much because I didn’t like to test my limits having one kidney, but it was always humbling to look at the prices.
“Pick what you want, Brooklyn. It’s on me.” Jane slid her slim body onto a barstool, giving a flirty wave and wink to the bartender.
“I hate when you pay for me. It’s like I’m a charity case.” I snapped the menu shut, knowing very well that I was still going to order a fancy appetizer even if it did cost me slipping a twenty into Jane’s purse later.
“I’m your best friend. You shouldn’t feel like that.”
“You’d feel like that if the roles were reversed.”
She sighed after telling the bartender what she wanted to drink and ordering me a water, like usual. She clasped her hands together on the bar top and smiled connivingly at me.
I looked anywhere but at her face. I stared at the gleaming liquor bottles lining the far wall behind the bar. I stared at the shiny, sleek bar top—not a droplet of water in sight. Then I looked at the bartender, mixing Jane’s drink, all dressed up in his black vest and bowtie.
He was cute.
But he was nothing like Reid King, whom I couldn’t get out of my head. I kept replaying him on his knee onstage, his broad shoulders shaking in his tight grey t-shirt, his bandmates slowly surrounding him, getting ready to haul him backstage to upchuck some more.
Before leaving to meet Jane—still avoiding grading papers—I dug up a few articles about Reid. The recent ones. The ones surrounding his “uh oh” onstage. People were ROASTING him for being that inebriated while performing. People were so cruel behind their computer screens. Reason number 6,087 why I had never ever posted a video of me with my guitar, singing a song that I’d written.
Hell. No.
“What are you thinking about?” Jane finally asked after I successfully avoided her for maybe ten seconds.
That’s all it took? Ten seconds for my mind to wander back to the famous Reid King? Nice.
I ran my hand through my reddish-brown hair. “I’m thinking of an excuse for whatever it is that you’re going to ask me to do.”
She laughed. “Relax. It’s not like I’m going to ask you to go skinny dipping with me and Alex Richards again.”
The image of Alex naked still scarred me to this day.
“The worst moment of my senior year—hands down.”
Jane threw her chocolate locks back and cracked up. The bartender came by and dropped our drinks off, grinning at her sudden burst of laughter, and then walked away with his head shaking.
I sipped on my water until she was done.
“I think it was the worst moment of my senior year, too,” Jane said before turning serious. “But really, I need you to hear me out.”
I cringed. “Nothing good has ever come out of your mouth when you say that I need to hear you out.”