Page 9 of Necessary Roughness

“Didn’t you get my text?” she asked, her mouth opening in feigned shock.

Quickly pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glanced and told her there was nothing there.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed while pressing her finger dramatically on her phone. “Itotallyforgot to send it.”

My phone dinged and I looked down to read:On my way over, I’m bringing alcoholic drinks and questions about Luke! Be there soon.

“Claire!” I said. “You did not forget to send that text. Did you seriously make that hour drive to?—”

But she didn’t let me finish.

“Don’t worry,” she said, reaching into her bag, “I came fully aware that I may need some help to get you talking.”

Holding open her giant beach bag, she revealed everything needed for a batch of Clairsmopolitans, her delicious twist on a signature Cosmo, clearly a dirty trick to loosen my lips.

The girl was relentless.

I sighed dramatically. “I wish I could, especially after the day I’ve had. But I’m working. I just started recording tomorrow’s episode.”

Claire raised one eyebrow. “What, did something happen?”

“It’s nothing. Just let me get this done.”

“Oh… I see…” she said, teasing me. “Fine. Well, let me guess. Tomorrow’s episode is about…”

I knew exactly where she was going with this.

“It’s not about him!” I shouted, a little too loudly.

Her jaw dropped. “Jesus Christ, you must be super into him!” she laughed, excited to see a sign that she was getting to me. “I didn’t even say his name!”

I shook my head. “Are you aware that there are other players in the NFL? Seriously, I would have no problem never saying his name again if?—”

“Squawk! From star quarterback to washed up…”

Stacy’s voice echoed throughout the house.

Both Claire and I froze as her already elated smile grew even wider.

Claire gasped. “Who onearthcould Stacy be talking about?”

No. No, no, no.

But Stacy continued. “The decline of Luke Dalton’s glory days!”

“God damn it, bird!”

Claire erupted into evil laughter before reaching into her ridiculous bag to pull out the bottle of vodka.

“Drinks are on me,” she said. “But I need more of this bird! And I want to take a walk on the beach. Let me in!”

Before I could say yes or no, she pushed past me and rushed up to Stacy’s cage.

I could tell the two were going to be fast friends.

I ran after her, closing the door behind me.

“Is he home?” Claire asked once we were in the opulent living room.