Stir Me (Rouse Me 2)

"Not lots," Alyssa says.

"She's been nominated for an Independent Spirit Award."

"Luke, it's fine," Alyssa says. "I'm sure Samantha can brag plenty about her law career. We're both more than our jobs."

"No, I'm interested," Samantha says. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm the lead on this cable show. It's niche, but it's doing well."

"What show?"

"It's called Model Citizen," Alyssa says. "It's a silly premise. I'm an ex-model, and I have no self-control. Always going after something--trying to win a shopping spree, trying to scheme my ex-boyfriend out of his car, trying to sleep with the hot next-door neighbor."

"That sounds interesting," Samantha says.

She's usually better at pretending to be polite.

"It's work. I'm sure you do plenty of interesting work too."

"Not in particular."

"That's a shame," Alyssa says.

It's cold, even considering her distaste for Samantha. I can't blame her. Samantha isn't being quite as polite as she usually is.

I try to step in. "Alyssa is an avid reader. But she's mostly interested in fiction. None of that Freakonomics stuff you love so much."

Samantha looks at me. "Let me guess. You finally found someone else who adores John Grisham?"

"He's a best seller. Plenty of people adore him. I don't need my girlfriend to be one of them."

"But he's so overwrought. You're too smart for that bullshit," Samantha says.

The fucking snob, like she has any right to tell me about my taste in fiction. I know for a fact that she's a closet Dan Brown fan.

"Alyssa reads like an English major," I say.

Alyssa rolls her eyes, no doubt sick of me pointing that out. "I don't have anything to prove. I enjoy it."

Samantha nods like she doesn't believe this. "Let me guess. You force her to watch those shitty TV shows you like. Like Law and Order."

"How dare you speak ill of Detective Lenny Briscoe."

"Which one is he?" Samantha asks.

Alyssa laughs. "He's the one with all the cheesy one-liners. And he's Luke's absolute favorite. So you better watch yourself McCoy."

"Huh?" Samantha screws up her face in confusion.

"Jack McCoy is the assistant district attorney. He's badass and he has fantastic eyebrows and gorgeous wrinkles. You know, the silver fox type." Alyssa folds her arms, smiling as she leans back in her chair.

Silver fox isn't the most subtle reminder that Samantha was fucking my father.

But it's effective. Samantha recoils. "Yes. I know the type. I'm just glad Luke found someone whose taste in TV is as bad as her taste in men."

It's too friendly. Too familiar. Alyssa keeps a smile on her face, but she's clearly uncomfortable. I catch her gaze. I mouth "are you okay?" She nods yes, and directs her attention back to Samantha.

There's something in Samantha's expression, something that shouldn't be there.