This time her gaze darts to the floor and her cheeks flush.
“Banner?” I drop my hands and pin her with my best tell me right now look.
Her voice is a mumble when she next speaks. “Jersey.”
Of course.
“And why aren’t you still in the strongman’s bed?”
I need to hear more. Preferably the whole story, because at least Banner’s life is more ridiculous than mine, and it has a shot at distracting me from everything I want to forget.
She coughs and speaks into her hand. “What was that?” Lowering her hand, she admits, “They had to pack up and drive to Pennsylvania. No more strong cock for this girl. It’s heartbreaking, really. Fernando was amazing. I didn’t understand a single word he said because my Portuguese is nonexistent, but who needs words when you’ve got an eleven-inch cock with the girth of jumbo summer sausage? My pussy may never be the same again . . . but at least I’ll have the memories.”
She finishes on a wistful note, and I’m so damn glad that my best friend is absolutely nuts.
“I love you, B.”
“Love you too, girl. Now, uncap that bottle and let’s get day drunk.”
I twist off the top and lift the bottle to my lips and chug. The vodka slides down my throat in a cool rush. Smooth. Silky. Deliciously mind-numbing.
Best. Idea. Ever.
Banner regales me with stories of the strongman, and I work on blocking out every memory involving Cav. She doesn’t ask for details because she’s that kind of friend. The kind that knows instinctively that I wouldn’t be swilling vodka like it’s water while sitting in the back of my brother’s private jet unless something had gone sideways in the worst way possible.
Or at least, I thought she took the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it. But no, my sneaky best friend decides to wait until I’m five shots in and my capacity for lying is nil.
“So, what the hell happened? You were here and the gossip rags slapped the label of Cav Westman’s hot new girlfriend on you, and then you freaking disappeared. I about lost my mind worrying. I stormed your brother’s office, and Cannon told me you were safe but laying low, and escorted me out of the building. Nothing else. I’ve been waiting impatiently for you to call, and now you call and want to get wasted. You gotta tell me what’s going on, woman.”
“Can we shelve this conversation for later?”
“Nope.” Banner pops the p. “Spill.”
I take a deep breath and give it all to her in one fell swoop. “Cannon shoved us in a plane and sent us to some tiny island off the coast of Belize where we fucked and ate and laid in the sun for the last however many days until Creighton showed up to drop the bomb that Cav . . .” I pause because I haven’t shared the mob connection with Banner, and I doubt Creighton would want me to. Quick thinking has me changing my words to something vaguer. “Well, he’s been lying to me since the beginning. About everything.”
Holding up a finger, Banner grabs the neck of the bottle of vodka and pours another shot. “Get ready to chug, girlie, because that deserves more liquor.”
I lift my bottle in a toast and pour more cool vodka down my throat. One shot, two shots . . . maybe more. Who knows at this point? All I know is that the bottle isn’t empty yet, and I’m still conscious.
When Banner slams her shot glass on her table, she crosses her arms in front of her and adopts a serious expression.
“So he broke your heart . . . but did he break your ass?”
Thank God I’ve finished swallowing because I would have spewed vodka all over this silky duvet and the screen of my phone.
“Jesus, B. Really?” I open my mouth to protest that he didn’t break anything, but she keeps going.
“It’s an important question. And I’m already getting drunk and it’s not even ten a.m., and therefore I deserve an answer. Are you still a back-door virgin?”
Glaring at her through the Skype connection, I flatten my lips before I burst into drunken giggles. “I can still feel the twinge in my ass, if you really want to know the truth.”
Banner’s eyes get huge. “No. Way. You did it! My little girl has finally grown up and taken a cock where no cock has ever gone before! This deserves to be tweeted. We must memorialize it on the interwebs.”
Grabbing up her iPad, she types furiously.
“Uh, no way in hell are you tweeting that. It’s my news.”
I know I’m making a huge mistake as soon as I reach for my phone and minimize the Skype app in favor of Twitter. And yet I don’t care. It’s probably the vodka fueling this poor decision making. And I mean probably as in definitely.
“I’m not saying anything about my ass, but the world should know that having a big cock just means the guy is an even bigger dick.”
Pulling up the infamous @GreerOneBadBitchKaras Twitter account that helped my ad go viral, I compose a masterpiece of a tweet. A Twitter-piece, I decide to call it.
I mumble to Banner as I tap out my 140 characters of awesomeness. Damn, vodka makes me just as creative as tequila.
Size doesn’t matter if it just means you’re an even bigger dickhead. #BigDick #KissMyAss #NeverAgain #GreerOut #NoCavDo #FuckUVeryMuch
Reading it out loud to Banner takes three tries because I can’t stop laughing. And if there are tears sneaking out of the corners of my eyes, they’re totally from the laughter. I refuse to admit anything else.
“Do it!”
I hit TWEET before I can second-guess myself or attempt more creative hashtags.
My notifications blow up within seconds. Whoa. Apparently, ever since I hooked up with Cav and the press started linking our names, my Twitter following has really grown.