Page 16 of Blush
“Oh,” I say, willing my voice not to shake. “Yeah. Please join us, Jack.”
“What are you ladies up to tonight?”
“Are you the coworker Dylan was meeting?” Frankie asks.
“Guilty. But I see he found someone else to occupy his time.” Jackson waves to our server, who nearly takes out two customers getting to our table.
Yeah. Jackson has that effect on women.
I should know.
“What can I get you, sir?” she asks, smiling.
“Tanqueray and tonic, please.”
“Absolutely. Coming right up.”
Jackson turns back to us. “So…anyone going to answer me?”
“What?” I say.
“I asked what you ladies were up to this evening.”
“Oh, right. We had to get fitted for our dresses for Frankie’s wedding.”
“Mandy told me the good news.” Jackson nods to Frankie. “Congratulations, love.”
“Thank you. The wedding’s in three months. I hope we can count on you being there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Our server—I think her name is Jane—brings Jackson’s drink and sets it on the table. In record time.
“Thanks, love,” Jackson says and gives her that dazzling smile.
Jane blushes and whisks away.
Love. Jackson calls everyonelove. Everyone except me. I get to be Mandy Cake.
Jackson is a world-class flirt. He has been since puberty. It drives me up the wall. Not only up the wall but across the ceiling and back down the other side.
He has no feelings for the server. He has no feelings for any of the women he callslove. I’m not even sure he’s ever had feelings for anyone he’s dated seriously. And by seriously, I mean a maximum of three months. I rarely even get to meet any of them. In fact, I’m glad when I don’t. The few times he’s introduced me to a date, he’s been more serious than normal. Which of course makes me feel terrible, since I’m hopelessly in love with him.
Luckily, none of them have lasted, even the ones he’s introduced me to.
Isabella stands. “You want to dance, Jack?”
Really, Isabella?
To be fair, Isabella and Gigi don’t know my true feelings for Jack. Neither does Frankie, though I’m sure she suspects. It’s not something I talk about. Not to anyone.
It’s my own private hell.
Jack takes a drink of his gin and tonic. “Sure, love.” He leads Isabella to the dance floor.
It’s a weeknight at a hotel bar, so the floor is hardly crowded. About five other couples besides Isabella and Jackson are dancing. It’s a fast song, so they’re not touching. Does Isabella have a thing for Jackson? I can’t blame her if she does, but she’s never mentioned it to me. Maybe she just wants to dance. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, after all.
Gigi and Dylan join them on the dance floor, and I finish my sidecar. I motion to Jane to bring me another, which she does, along with my nachos and four plates. I guess she thinks I’m sharing.