Before I could react further, Jada’s bodyguard-slash-chauffer had burst into the bar, shoving elbows and pissing people off to get to us. She took one look at the scene, dropped the duffel she was carrying at Jada’s feet, twisted the drunk’s arm behind his back, and led him out the door.
Jada hauled me toward the restroom.
“What was that about?” she demanded.
“Same town. Same issue. If I thought being gone for five years would have changed anything, I was wrong.”
“Do you want me to have him whacked?” she asked with a tease, trying to lighten the mood, trying to pull me from the tears I felt like shedding.
“God no. How can I be upset when he only spoke the truth? I just wish everyone could see how much Jersey and I agreed with them. How worthless he was. I wish they hadn’t made Jersey out to be the villain.”
In the bathroom, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and wanted to vomit myself. With Jada’s help, I pulled the sweater over my head, keeping the disgusting bile away from my face. When it was off, I threw it in the trash. Who knew what was in his vomit? Beer and whatever the jerk had had for dinner, but was there more? Something that would make me sick? Something that would have me heading to the hospital because my body, with its nonexistent spleen, couldn’t process the disease?
“Take your pants off too,” Jada said.
She was right. There was throw-up on the jeans as well. Fuck.
I pulled off the wedged boots I’d worn, unbuttoned the jeans, and tugged them off my body, losing my balance and ending up on the floor. More grime. More germs. More chances to get sick.
I was panicking. I knew I was. I just had to focus through it.
Once I’d removed the offending clothes, I stood and washed my hands, going up to my elbows, then I proceeded to wash my chest and stomach, the water making my thin bra almost see-through.
“Shit,” Jada said as she dug through the duffel before looking up at me.
“I don’t have a top. I must not have replaced it after the last time I used the bag,” she said, a small smile quirking at her lips at some unseen memory.
“Do I want to know what happened to the one you were wearing?” I asked, valiantly fighting off the tears.
She laughed. “Let’s just say it became two items instead of one.”
She tossed me a pair of black suede leggings. Nothing I’d ever buy or wear, but they would have to do. I pulled them on, trying to touch as little of the surfaces of the dive bar bathroom as possible. When I was done, I looked ridiculous. Tan boots, black suede leggings, and a flowered lace bra.
Jada pulled off the coat she’d thrown over her glittering tank top and handed it to me. It was sky blue wool, soft and beautiful.
I shook my head. “You’ll freeze.”
“Don’t argue with me. I have a top on, and you don’t. Besides, by the time we get out front, Kaida will have the car sitting there all warmed up. I’ll be fine.”
I pulled the coat on. While Jada and I were of similar size and build, my breasts were a hair larger than hers, and the buttons on the jacket fought being closed. I did my best and then shrugged at her in the mirror.
She winked at me, looping her arm with mine.
“Ready?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure, but I nodded.
I held my head high but didn’t make eye contact with anyone as we walked through the bar to the door.
Jada was right. Kaida had the car parked at the curb, waiting for us.
We dove inside, and Jada broke into laugher.
I tried to frown but couldn’t. “I don’t know how you think this is funny,” I said, but suddenly, I was laughing too.
“Leave it to you to remind me that I’m not the only one with a family people hate.”
I rolled my eyes. “No one hates your family.”
She turned serious, shooting an eye toward the front seat and Kaida. A look I didn’t understand. Kaida had been with Jada for as long as I’d known her. The female driver had been chosen after Jada had been caught having sex with her male chauffer at the age of seventeen. At some point in our friendship, Jada had told me she was trying to live out every “poor little rich girl” cliché there was. I wondered if