A Toast to the Good Times - By Liz Reinhardt Page 0,48
things for a second.”
I lean in closer to Tyler, and let the words slide through my clenched teeth.
“Explain things for a second? Like what, Tyler? Like how you decided to fuck my girlfriend behind my back while I was working my ass off to get things going on the bar that you and I were supposed to be opening? Remember that?”
I slap the dishrag on the counter with more force than I mean to, because I really don’t want to let Tyler know how much the whole thing fucked me up.
“I regret what I did every single day.” Tyler runs a hand over his blond hair, cut like he’s doing a photo-shoot for a Dockers’s commercial. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to. I’m back with my parents now. Heather and I broke up—”
“Wow. Yeah, you’re breaking my fucking heart here, man. Listen, maybe next time you should not be such a total asshole, and you wouldn’t be drowning in all this shit right now.”
I look for Mila, but she’s not down the bar, which means she’s part of the increasingly rowdy crowd.
Even though there’s no reason to feel it, a tiny jolt of panic runs through me.
“Look, you gotta hear me out, Landry. I really was an asshole, and I deserve for you to be pissed as hell at me. I do. But I want to know if you can find it in your heart to patch shit up and maybe...maybe consider doing the partner thing again? I’ll swing all the original funds I promised back into the bar. I hear you’re doing okay, but if you have some backing from me, we can make okay great, you know? Landry?”
Tyler dodges and weaves to plant himself in front of me, but my attention is elsewhere.
I’m actually looking out onto the dance floor, where my girl has her arms locked around the neck of my little brother. The karaoke machine was mercifully flicked off an hour or two ago, and it’s been regular Christmas songs on since then.
The Boss is singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and my idiot brother is using every ounce of his Jersey boy charm on Mila and making her dance with him to this undanceable song.
My first instinct is to march on the floor and shove my brother to the side, then throw Mila over my shoulder.
But, I have a suspicion that a girl with a feminist poetry tattoo isn’t going to be alright with that.
My next option is to break in on them more subtly, but then I’d have to dance, and it’s really not my thing.
“Isn’t that Mila Eby?” Tyler asks, following my line of sight.
“How the hell do you know Mila?” This douche ex-business partner of mine is seriously a step and a half away from getting his ass kicked out into the cold.
“Remember Reggie, the guy who DJ’d at all those underground clubs? He had a thing for her, big time. I don’t know if he ever got around to asking her on a date or whatever. Yet. He said she intimidated the shit out of him.”
Tyler’s looking her up and down appreciatively, and I’m two seconds away from bashing his teeth in.
“Reggie? Wasn’t he the guy who did the music for the party for that French socialite, then MTV Euro picked his one song up and played it all over?” I ask.
“That’s Reg,” Tyler confirms.
What Tyler said finally clicks. “Wait, yet?”
“Yeah, if he hasn’t asked her out already, I know he was going to ask Mila to some big comic book thing because he did some soundtrack work for some video game and they invited him. I don’t have all the details, some nerd fest.”
I’m all ears, and Tyler’s taking advantage of my willingness to hear him out. I guess he thinks he can worm himself back into my good graces if he gets on my good side.
Of course, he had no clue I want to break his nose over the information he’s giving me.
“So, was Reggie going to do this all soon?” I ask. I’m competitive by nature, and I never actually had to compete for girls before.
But there was never a girl like Mila.
And I was never up against some asshole DJ with connections to the comic book get together that makes her all swoony.
The info about Reggie coupled with watching Mila and Henry sway to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” while she tilts her head back and laughs is making my