Chapter Seventeen
I lifted my highball glass and sipped at my drink; the fruity taste burst on my tongue. “I’m wondering at the wisdom of the multi-colored striped carpet. I mean, this is a bar—drinks must get spilled all the time. It would make more sense to have wooden flooring.”
Hanna’s nose wrinkled. “You think about the weirdest stuff when you’re drinking.”
“No, I don’t.”
“No? Just minutes ago, you ‘pondered’ whether people would be better adjusted adults if they didn’t watch Disney movies as kids.”
“Come on, those movies are full of tragedy and sorrow. Bambi’s mom died. Simba watched his father be murdered. Old Yeller was shot. An entire village was decimated in Mulan. Dumbo’s mom was locked up for trying to protect her son. Tod’s adopted mom abandoned him in the woods—okay, he was a fox, but there were hunters.”
“That scene was sad. But it was My Girl that destroyed my childhood. I mean, Vada’s best friend died after being stung by bees! I was terrified of them for months after that.”
“God, that movie was traumatic. The part where little Thomas is in the coffin and Vada loses it and starts balling her eyes out … it all left a scar on me for sure.”
Mouthing the lyrics to the song playing, I glanced around the upscale bar. It was trendy with its red, gold, and black color scheme. It wasn’t crowded, but it was busy. Patrons drank, talked, laughed, and even sang along to the music.
As I’d arranged the previous day, I’d come here straight from work with Hanna and some of our coworkers. Since I’d forgotten to tell Sam and Dane about it, I’d earlier rattled off a quick text message to the driver, informing him that I’d be taking a cab home tonight. I’d also texted Dane—who was attending another late dinner meeting—to say that I wouldn’t be back at his house until late. He hadn’t replied until half an hour ago, and that had only been to ask what bar I was at—no “have a good time” or anything like that.
Hanna took my hand and admired my rings. “I just love these. I don’t know why you won’t let me try them on. I’ll give them straight back.”
“You don’t think Dane would freak?”
“He’d never know.”
“We’re surrounded by coworkers who’d totally tell him.”
Her shoulders lowered. “Yeah, you’re right.” She leaned closer and said, “Sorry that some of them are being weird toward you—I didn’t expect that. They don’t act that way at work.”
They did; Hanna just hadn’t been around to see it. “But now they’re not at o-Verve and there’s no Dane around to fire them, so they feel comfortable being rude.”
The two women who usually gave me attitude at work, Rachel and Lianne, were now leaning into each other and whispering while staring at me. They also let out the occasional snicker. Ugh. Whatever.
The guys were worse. A few of them kept making passive-aggressive remarks and jokey comments that weren’t actually funny. They seemed to find themselves hilarious, though. Well, at least someone was laughing. The worst offenders had gone to the bar to flirt with some random strangers, and I sure hoped they stayed there.
Hanna adjusted her cleavage. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the ones being rude are either guys you turned down or women that Dane turned down. They’re just bitter. And jealous. And having an ego-related crisis because they were rejected in favor of someone else.”
“Hmm-mmm.” I shifted slightly, making the red leather cushion beneath me squeak a little. The sofa was long and stylish, much like many of the others that lined the walls of the bar. Not comfier than the furniture at Dane’s place, though. Speaking of which … “When are you finally going to get over your aversion to my house? Every time Ashley and I try and plan for the three of us to have a girls’ night there, you put us off.”
“I don’t have an aversion to your house. I’ve told you, it would just feel weird to hang out in my boss’s home.”
“It’s my home, too.” I placed my glass on the square napkin beside the lemon wedge I’d fished out of the drink. “And it’s not like you’ll have to hang with him. He’ll make himself scarce to give us privacy.”
“I know, but … I would just find it super hard to relax there. It’s Dane’s haven. He doesn’t even like having people in his office much. I’d feel out of place. Like I shouldn’t be there. Also, I’m not really in a rush to step into the home of a psych—”
“And we’re done.”
Hanna gave a little huff. “Look, if you don’t want to see the dark side of him, that’s fine. But blinding yourself to it won’t change that it’s there.”
“People can have a dark side without also having asocial personality disorder. Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me you’re going to get over your issues to enjoy a night in with me and Ashley.”