High Fidelity

28. sausage fest

Sydney Bay Janes

The art exhibit was a success by Delaney's standards, I suppose. Okay, okay, it went well. I was happy she was happy, even if her boyfriend never showed.

We were in the kitchen, Delaney and myself, enjoying the last bottle of champagne. It was nice again between her and I, the casual, not forced, conversation. She felt like the woman I did once call my aunt.

Coming down from a fit of laughter after I told her how everyone gawked at my breasts, Delaney offered me more champagne. I denied, having had enough.

"Mmhm," she swallowed and put the glass on the counter. "I can't believe The Taylor's gave me that huge check!"

"Yeah, me either," I sighed, pushing the hair over my clothed shoulder. Once everyone left, I threw an old white large tee on to keep from getting, well, a chest cold.

"Whatever did you do to Wilson to swing this?" she thought that was a joke.

"Nothing," I said low, "nothing at all." And that's the truth.

It's a shame Will and I couldn't get any further before he screwed up. Given my past and hatred for men, I wasn't one to give out many chances, either.

I really liked Wilson but that's out the window, he lied, and he's not the good guy I made him out to be.

"Oh, but that Diane -- his mother-- what a bitch," Delaney dragged in her high-pitched voice.

Thinking back to our brief encounter, yeah, I can agree to that. She didn't seem like the most down-to-Earth woman or a very lively person which is odd considering she's an online personality. Whatever, though, I already knew most family-oriented "influencers" were full of shit and actually fucking terrible in person. 

The way she looked at me, I did not like that, either. She remembered my name from somewhere and swore she knew me, or saw me on tv. Perhaps, she stumbled across one of my social media profiles. After all, the only other way she'd know me is if she'd followed some drama blogs that featured me after the trial. Chyna, posing as my publicist, ordered most sites not to include pictures or my last name or else we'd sue. Others didn't respect that and included a selfie. However, those reporters were all in my face that night at Tony's, maybe that's how. I just hoped she wouldn't think about it too much. . .

"Excuse me," I said to Delaney when my phone rang. It was Chyna calling, and just when I needed her.

"Hey, Chy," I answered the call once I was inside the bedroom.

Back to the door, I let it shut before I glided across the floor and plopped in bed.

"Hey, sis. What's up, how are you?" she talked. It was good to hear her voice.

"I'm okay, just got through with the art show. Did you see all the pics I sent you?"

"Yes, and your post-and-delete," she laughed.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I know you-know-who has eyes everywhere and I didn't want him to see."

"Oh, God. Can you imagine, him popping up in Vegas?"

"That, I can believe, just as long as he stays in the city."

"What did Damian say, you talk to him?"

I laid back, sighing. "I'm not dealing with you two anymore, you'll see him when you get here."

She laughed maniacally. "I know, but I don't want it to be weird when I come back, you know? Like, I don't care."

"I wish I could be so nonchalant like you," I let out.