Page 41 of Lone Spy (Starstruck Thrillers #2)

I ordered a 'Tequila Gimlet, straight up'.

The bartender, whose name I was pretty sure was Diane, nodded and moved off to make my drink.

My face, reflected in the mirror behind the bar, peered from between a bottle of Blue Curacao and Midori.

I needed a haircut. My fashionable bangs had grown out, and now I just pushed them behind my ears.

Last night's fight with Marcus and my early-morning journey to the pound had left puffy, blue-tinted circles under my eyes.

All those tears had left the white around my gray irises streaked with red and—I leaned forward a little to make sure—my upper eyelids a bizarre orange.

Diane placed a martini glass brimming with a sheer red liquid on the bar, and I handed her a ten. I moved toward the backyard, trying not to spill my drink all over my hand while spilling my drink all over my hand.

One overly cute couple sat in the soft candlelight cooing.

I took a table close to the door and artificial lighting.

As the tequila burned in my mouth, I wrangled with the memories of the past 24 hours.

I usually shoved thoughts I didn't like to the back of my mind.

But they never went away—they're always back there—lurking right on the other side of my self-control.

James appeared in the doorway, smiling, holding a Tequila Gimlet, splash of cran (but his was on the rocks).

He was a head taller than me at around six feet.

We shared the same gray eyes and blonde hair, though James's was short and styled while mine was reaching past my shoulder blades.

Edging towards 30, James liked to talk about how his green-bean physique was morphing into eggplant. But the guy was still a pole.

"You look like shit," James said as he sat down. I smiled weakly and slurped my tequila. "Seriously, what the fuck happened to you?"

"Well, I broke up with Marcus”—this elicited a gasp—” and bought a dog.”—an even bigger gasp—” Oh, and I got fired." I raised my glass in a mock toast to myself and polished it off.

"I talked to you yesterday! All this happened in one day?" I nodded, tried to finish my drink, then realized I already had. I went and brought back another.

"It's not really surprising," I said as I sat down. "We all knew it was coming."

James nodded. "Are you OK?" he asked.

"Well, I did lose my job because I went kinda crazy at work."

"Crazy?"

I told him about the plump tourist, her misorder, my insane reaction, and Brad's management decision. Then I told him about the masturbation comment.

James laughed. "I love it," he said. "I'm proud of you, Joy. That job sucked. Marcus was a tool. You've got a whole new fresh start."

"Easy for you to say. How exactly am I supposed to pay my rent?"

"You'll figure it out. Now, tell me about this dog. I can't believe you're such an asshole that you went out and got a dog because you broke up with your boyfriend. It's so pathetic."

"You're a real sweetheart."

"Somebody has to tell you."

"Jesus, I wanted a dog, so I went and got a dog."

"Oh, this was something planned?" James leaned his elbows on the table with mischief dancing in his eyes. "It's just a coincidence that you happened to break up with your boyfriend the night before." He smiled at me.

"Oh, just shut up. So what if I bought a dog to console myself?" He was right, of course. I had gone and bought a dog because I broke up with my boyfriend. And, yes, that was pathetic.

"So, what kind of dog?"

"He's really beautiful. He has one blue eye and one brown. Oh, oh, the best part is he attacked Marcus when he tried to come over." James laughed. "I know. Can you fucking believe it? He left me five messages today." I held up my hand with all five fingers extended.

"Your dog attacks people?"

"Not people, intruders," I said with more confidence than I felt. For all I knew Blue attacked all sorts of people. Maybe it wasn't that Marcus was breaking into the house. Maybe Blue would attack any douchebag we passed on the street. The thought made me laugh.

James smiled at me. "Not to talk badly about Marcus, Lord knows he was sexy as hell, but the guy is kind of an idiot. Not to mention that he tried to control you way too much. Low self-esteem fucks up a lot of men." James sat back, his hypothesis fully expressed.

I laughed. "I guess. Whatever, I'm over it." I sat up and scooped up my drink taking a long sip. "I'm so over it."

"Well, are you going to call him back? I don't think you should. Make a clean break."

I knew he was right, but I also knew that I had no control over myself whatsoever and would probably call him. "How's Hugh?" I asked, changing the subject. Hugh was James's boyfriend of four years.

"He's good," James smiled. "Actually, we're really good …

Our offer was accepted." Hugh and James had spent the last eight months trying to find an apartment.

Two months ago, they'd found it. A fifth-floor walk-up with a roof deck, two bedrooms (OK, a bedroom-and-a-half) and a kitchen that was recently renovated.

"Holy shit. That's awesome. How much?"

"It's a little out of our price range, but you always pay more than you want, right?"

Later, I stumbled into my building blind-drunk.

I climbed the steps humming to myself, swinging my keys.

I was feeling pretty good. Sure, I had no job, no boyfriend, and a weirdo of a dog, but life was not so bad, not so bad at all.

I would make it; I could fix it. Everything was going to be just fine.

Blue greeted me at the door. "Hi, boy." I crouched and rubbed his ears.

He nuzzled my chest, knocking me against the wall.

Blue wrapped himself in my arms. I breathed into his neck, smelling the pound.

"We're going to be OK," I said into his neck.

"I'm going to take care of us. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to fix this mess of a life of ours. " Then I passed out.