Page 18 of Positively Pricked

Okay, thathadto be a joke. Ever the optimist, I forced a laugh. "Good one."

She blinked. "A good what?"

I studied her face. So thatwasn'ta joke?

Could she seriously not remember me? I tried to think. I'd run into her just last month at a nearby book store. She'd recognized me just finethen.

And then it hit me.

At the book store, I'd been just another customer – an old college classmate. Now, I was the poor slob plucking seafood off the floor. Apparently, that put me so far below the future Mrs. Senator that we weren't even on speaking terms, even as acquaintances.

How lovely for her.

Probably, I should've let it go, but for some reason, I just couldn’t. "Oh come on," I persisted. "I sat next to you in graphic design."

Her mouth tightened. "So about those crab cakes? That's a 'no', then?"

Oh, so that's how it was.

I pointed to the floor. "There's a couple. Want me to toss them onto a plate for you?"

She didn't even look. "They're not forme.They're for the senator."

Oh, for crying out loud.First of all, he was astatesenator. And second of all, assuming Tiffany even made it to the altar, she'd be wife number four. "Fine," I said. "Want me to toss them onto a plate forhim?"

She glanced at the floor, and her brow wrinkled. "Are they still warm?"

Oh. My. God.She wasn't seriously considering it? I said, "Well, theydohave a nice coat of lint."

She frowned. "Can't you scrape it off or something?"

I gave her a disgusted look. "Are you serious?"

She lowered her voice. "I mean, like so he wouldn't know?"

"Oh, he'd know," I said. "And if he didn't, I'd tell him."

Her gaze narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Well, this is just great." She made a sound of frustration. "I can't go back without them. He gets all super-intense when he's hungry." She gave another huff. "And he's in the worst mood already."

No doubt, he was. After all, his fiancée had just been caught dry-humping the host. That would be enough to put anyone in a bad mood.

Still, why was she confiding in me of all people? After all, it's not like we were on a first-name basis or anything – as I'd been so recently informed.

Summoning up my last ounce of professionalism, I pointed to my left. "Youdoknow they've got shrimp cocktail in the solarium."

She perked up. "Really? Why didn't you say so?"

"I just did."

"Oh, fine," she muttered. "Whatever." And with that, she turned and flounced away, heading toward the solarium. As for me, I returned to the floor and tried to count my blessings.

Oh sure, I might be plucking food off the carpet, and sure, I might've just been shunned by a former classmate,andyeah, I'd been caught eavesdropping by our not-so gracious host.

But it could always be worse, right?

Probably, that was the wrong question, because – almost as if I'd willed it personally – things did get worse, thanks to who?

Zane Bennington – the biggest prick in the universe.