Why on earth would I be pissed?”
The sarcasm is strong with this one, my friends.
And I completely deserve it. I spent more than an hour in Mulder’s man-cave tonight. Now it’s ten o’clock and we’re outside waiting for our car, and Brenna refuses to even look at me.
“Oh, I know!” she continues, scorn dripping from her tone. “You mean because I was banished to the sitting room with the other women, where we clutched our pearls and fainted a whole bunch just so we could wake each other up with smelling salts?”
“That is super fucked up. Is that what you think they did back in the day?”
“They may as well have!” Her cheeks are flushed with anger. “Do you realize what a slap in the face that was? Watching you waltz off to talk about sports with the man who’s interviewing me for a position in sports?”
Remorse ripples inside me. “I know.” I let out a breath. “I knew it was a dick move when I did it.”
“And yet you did it anyway.” Her eyes blaze. “Because you’re a dick.”
“Hey, one dick move doesn’t make me a dick,” I protest. “And look, you have to admit, self-interest was your sole motivation tonight, too. You wanted to talk to Mulder about the internship and prove that you were fit for the job. Well, I wanted to prove that I was fit for my job.”
“Self-interest was never your motivation, though. You didn’t even know Theo Nilsson was going to be there tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s called adapting. Nils was there, and I decided to take advantage. You would’ve done the same thing.”
“You were supposed to be my hype man, Connelly. And instead you hyped yourself up the whole time. This was such a waste of time,” she grumbles. “I should’ve asked somebody else to come with me. I should’ve brought McCarthy.”
“First off, you wouldn’t have even been invited if you hadn’t name-dropped me,” I point out. “So there’d have been no need to ask anybody. And secondly, I’m pretty sure the McCarthy train has left the station. Last I heard, he hooked up with some girl after the semifinals and has seen her every day since.”
Brenna glowers at me.
“What?” I say with a shrug. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“You think I care that McCarthy is seeing someone else?” She gives me an incredulous look. “I was over that guy the second he let you decide what he could do with his dick. What I care about is the fact that you didn’t have my back in there.”
“Only at the end,” I argue. “The rest of the time, I was totally hyping you up. You know I was.”
She doesn’t answer. And then our car arrives and she stomps toward it. Originally I set the drop-off location as the train station for Brenna, but now I lean into the front seat and tap the driver’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re actually going somewhere else first. Could you drop us at O’Malley’s on Boylston?”
Brenna swivels her head. “No. We’re going to the station.”
The man’s gaze shifts back and forth between us.
“Come on,” I murmur to Brenna. “You know you need a drink.” I don’t think she consumed a single drop of alcohol tonight. The other women were all sipping on rosé. “A real drink,” I coax.
“Fine. O’Malley’s,” she mutters to the driver.
A short while later, we’re sitting across from each other in a cramped booth. The pub is stuffed to the gills with the Friday-night crowd, but we lucked out and showed up at the same time another couple was leaving. Neither of us says a word as we wait for the waitress to come and take our order. It’s so loud in here that the curly-haired redhead has to shout just to say hello.
Brenna examines the menu, then lifts her head. “What did you guys drink in Mulder’s study?” she says tersely.
“Cognac,” I admit.
“Remy Martin?”
“Hennessy, neat.”
“We’ll take two of those, please,” she tells the waitress.
“Coming right up,” the redhead chirps.
Once the server’s gone, I gaze at Brenna with genuine regret. “I’m sorry I went to the man-cave without you. I really do feel bad for that.”
“Sure,” she says.
Her tone is lacking in sarcasm, so I think she’s being sincere. Only I’m not clear on what she’s being sincere about. “Is that you accepting the apology or just acknowledging it?” I demand.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Jakey.”
Thank God. The Jensen I’ve come to appreciate is back in full form, complete with the tiny smirk curving her lips. I