Best Friend's Ex Box Set

He moved over to the window and peered out.

“No, man, it's all dark. Guess your friend either had an early night, or they're out.”

“Oh. Man, I'm feeling a bit woozy,” I remarked.

“Yeah, that would be the shot I just gave you. It'll numb the pain and help you sleep.”

“Aw, no, man, I didn't need anything like that,” I protested.

“Yeah, you did,” he said. “Now just relax and get some sleep. I'll take care of everything.”

I felt sleep washing over me, and within seconds of me laying my head on the pillow, I was out.

Chapter Nine

Vivienne

Thankfully, Angie was a bit faster than she had thought she would be and I didn't have to wait too long for her. After sulking inside for a while, and having a glass of wine to calm me down a little, I finally heard the honking of the taxi's horn outside. Well, it was almost nine o' clock now, and there had been no word from Everett, not a peep. No calls, no messages, nothing. I couldn't believe he had done this to me, and it was really hard not to cry when I thought about it. Still, at least Angie had been here for me, and the evening hadn't gone totally to waste.

I got my handbag, walked out and locked the house up, and then headed over to the taxi. Angie was waiting for me inside, looking pretty.

“Hey, Angie! You look great!” I said, doing my best to be cheery despite how down I was feeling.

“Ditto A-, I mean, Vivienne. It's gonna take me a while to get used to your new name.”

“Don't worry about it. Call me Viv. It'll be easier to remember.”

“Sure thing, Viv. Wow, you really do look gorgeous, though. The guys are gonna be falling at your feet tonight, girl!”

“Yeah... after being stood up, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with any guys, to be honest. But let's see how I feel after I've had a cocktail or two.”

Angie grinned as I said this.

“Where we're going, you're gonna feel like a million bucks after a cocktail or two! Trust me; it'll be the perfect pick-me-up after what that jerk did. Now come on, get in and let's get this evening going!”

I got into the taxi and we took off. As we turned the corner, another car turned the corner, passing us closely but going in the opposite direction, and a jolt of shock ran through me as I saw Everett sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't see me, and I didn't get a very clear view of him, but from what I could see, he was swaying in the seat, looking unsteady. In fact, it looked like he was drunk, almost. Some guy I didn't recognize was in the driving seat. He looked to be about Everett's age, and he was chuckling about something – some drunken joke they had shared, I bet.

Rage flashed red across my eyes. How dare he! He had ditched me without warning to go drinking with some dumb buddy of his! The nerve of it was staggering. Well, I wasn't about to give him the chance to give me some drunken phone call filled with lousy excuses and lies. I took my phone out of my bag, turned it off, and then shoved it back in.

“So, Angie,” I said, trying to get my attention off what I had just seen. “You're on the prowl tonight, huh? I gotta tell you, I don't know much about this 'wingman' stuff.”

She laughed.

“I'm hoping to meet a nice, rich, handsome guy, sure,” she said with a grin. “Whether that happens, we'll see. Don't worry, being a wingman – well, let's say wing woman – is easy! It just makes approaching guys, or being approached by guys, that much easier. Takes the pressure off. A creepy dude might try his luck if a girl is by herself, but if she's got a friend with her, he might think twice about hitting on her. And also, it's easier to approach a hot guy with a girlfriend on your arm for moral support. Makes for a good self-confidence boost when you're feeling shy.”

“I think I can do that,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, I don't think it'll be too hard.”

“You'll nail it,” she said. “And I hope you change your mind about picking up a guy. It'd do you good. Get your mind off the asshole who stood you up tonight. And, you know, get past that thing with Simon.”

Ugh. The mention of that name made my skin crawl, and I really wished that she hadn't brought it up. Still, I could understand, though. She had to be at least a little bit curious about how he could have been such a crazy maniac that I had to move hundreds of miles and legally change my name to get away from him. Anyone would be curious about circumstances like that.

Luckily, though, before this conversation could go any further, the taxi driver interrupted us.

“Hey, ladies, we're here: Swanky Frank's Cocktail Lounge.”

“Thanks,” said Angie, and she leaned forward and handed him the fare.

“How much is that?” I asked. “Can I chip in?”