Chapter 18

Tiffany was all smiles as she scurried toward me in the department store. "Oh, my God!" she squealed. "It's been ages. How are you?"

I glanced around. "Me?"

But already, Tiffany had barreled into me and wrapped me up in a hug so tight that I could barely breathe. She laughed like I'd just said something funny. "You are such a kidder."

I wasn't a kidder. I was confused as hell. The last time I'd seen Tiffany had been at that disastrous catering gig, when she'd acted like we were practically strangers. That had been nearly a month ago, and I hadn't forgotten, even if she had.

I pulled away and eyed her with suspicion. "What are you doing?"

She lifted both arms, showing off a colorful array of festive shopping bags. "Shopping, what else?"

I recognized the bags, and not only because they'd just been poking me in the sides. Every single bag sported the name or logo of some upscale shop that was well beyond my price range.

Of course, everything was beyond my current range, considering that I had no money and none coming in any time soon.

Unlike Tiffany, I wasn't here to shop. I was looking for a job.

Already, I'd hit dozens of stores, in hopes that someone was hiring.

No such luck.

Tiffany gave me a sunny smile. "So, you wanna grab some lunch and catch up?"

At the mere mention of lunch, my stomach gave a traitorous grumble. Looking to conserve my money, I'd been living on rice and Ramen noodles for the past couple of weeks. By now, I was so hungry for something different that even food court nachos sounded sinfully delicious.

Still, I shook my head. "I can't."

Tiffany frowned. "Why not?"

Because I can't afford it.

But I'd die before admitting such a thing.

And besides, that wasn't the only reason for declining Tiffany's invitation. My empty wallet aside, it was because Tiffany and I weren't on speaking terms, as she'd so nicely informed me at Zane's place, back when I'd been plucking crab cakes off the carpet.

I told her, "Because we're not friends, remember?"

Tiffany blinked. "What? Why not?"

"Oh, for God's sake," I said. "Don't act like you forgot."

"Forgot what?"

As if she didn't know. I crossed my arms and waited.

"Oh, all right," she finally said. "But what did you expect? There are protocols, you know."

I felt my gaze narrow. "What kind of protocols?"

"Well…" She glanced away. "Like chatting with the help. It's like a huge faux-pas."

I stiffened. The help? "Hey," I said, "I was a catering assistant, not a leper."

Tiffany sighed. "I know. Honest. But the senator, he's so image-conscious. Do you know, he got all mad at me yesterday when I started chatting with some parking valet?" Tiffany gave a sad shake of her head. "Which totally sucked, because he was super-cute, too."

Obviously, she wasn't talking about her fiancé. Still, I couldn’t resist tweaking her at least a little. "Sorry, who's cute?" I put on my clueless face. "The Senator?"

"Oh, him?" She sagged a little. "Not really. I mean, he's a little too hairy to be cute-cute." She brightened. "But he was a big football star. So that's good."

I had no idea what to say. The senator was clean shaven and nearly bald. This posed a rather disturbing question. Hairy where? But I didn't ask, because I was pretty darn sure that I didn't want to know.

Tiffany leaned a fraction closer and whispered, "But can I be honest?"

"Uh, well…" In truth, I wasn't sure how much more honesty I could take. And yet, I gave a short, jerky nod.

What was I? A masochist or something?

Tiffany glanced around before saying in a hushed voice, "Just between us, I'm thinking of trading up."

Curiosity got the best of me. "Really? To who?"

Tiffany's gaze grew dreamy. "Zane Bennington."

I froze. Just the mere mention of that dreaded name was enough to make me want to break something, like an arm – his preferably.

My mouth tightened. "So are you two a thing now?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she said. "But we could be, right?"

What could I say to that? "Sure, why not?"

Once again, Tiffany was all smiles. "And I was thinking that maybe you and I could chat about it over lunch."

She was thinking wrong. The last thing I wanted now was to hear anyone gush about Zane "the Prick" Bennington. Already, I'd been hearing that name far too often. It seemed like every time I turned on the news, there he was, pissing someone off – or, on the flipside, doing a new business deal or schmoozing with some actress or runway model.

And, if that weren't bad enough, he was doing most of these things right here in Indianapolis, as opposed to the usual places, like New York or L.A.

By now, I had a theory. All those jet-setters were coming to him, because he wouldn't go to them.

I just knew it.

In front of me, Tiffany asked, "So, do you like sushi?"

Seafood? Immediately, I thought of those stupid crab-cakes and how awful she'd treated me the last time I'd seen her.

I shook my head. "No. Sorry." I made a move to step past her. "I've gotta go."

"Wait!" Tiffany sidestepped to block my path. "It doesn't have to be sushi. We can go anywhere you want." She gave me a pleading look. "The truth is, I could really use someone to talk to."

I almost didn't know what to say. Even in college, Tiffany and I hadn't been more than casual friends. Why would she confide in me of all people?

As if reading something in my expression, she said, "Do you remember that time you caught me with Buster Hogan in the stall?"

Did I ever. Even now, three years later, the image was burned into my brain. I'd opened the last stall in the library's second-floor women's restroom, only to catch a good eyeful of Tiffany and Buster doing the nasty.

I still didn't know why they picked there of all places. And in truth, I didn't want to know. With more than a little trepidation, I said, "Uh, yeah?"

"Well, you never told anyone."

This wasn't quite true. I'd told Charlotte. But that was like putting it in the vault, because we had a strict no-blabbing policy on shared secrets.

"Yeah?" I said. "So?"

"So I know that I can trust you, you know, with girl-talk stuff."

It was actually a pretty nice thing to say. "Uh, thanks."

"And besides," she added, "we travel in totally different circles now, so it's not like you could tell anyone important."

I gave her a look. "Oh, that's nice."

"I know, right?" She gave me another sunny smile. "So, how about Italian? Everyone likes that."

My stomach gave another traitorous grumble. Damn it. I did like Italian, but it hardly mattered. I still couldn’t afford it.

Almost as an afterthought, Tiffany added, "Oh, and I'm totally treating. I did mention that, right?"