That voice. Ugh! A voice that I had come to know all too well. That voice that is now like nails grating on a nearby chalkboard to me. Fuck you, Jenny. Of course you have to ruin this moment with me and Bette. You’re hell bent on ruining my professional life, you’ve already exposed my personal life, so it’s no surprise that you’re the interloper this evening by now infiltrating what’s left of my pathetic little social life.

Fuck, I wonder what Bette was going to say just now. Once the petulant brat leaves, I’ll ask her. Wait a minute, what the fuck is Jenny wearing?

God, I knew the moment Bette walked in wearing that sheer blue top and those black flowing pants that I would have to struggle to keep my hands and eyes to myself and my libido in check. I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger a while on the beautifully sculpted shoulder visible through the blue fabric, and the way her dangling earring caught the light as she swung her head around to greet her neighbor.

When I realized that Jenny was actually speaking to me, I looked up at her. The fake smile I had become accustomed to in this business betrayed the feeling of contempt I had for this so-called writer who had injected herself into our conversation.

I could read her smug attitude despite her assurance that it was “looking good” for me. I took another sip of my martini, secretly praying the waiter would immediately return with my new order. 

“Oh, what’s looking good for Tina?” I heard Bette ask. If only she had directed that question to me, I could have answered her with the utmost honesty. You. You’re looking good for Tina right now. You’ve always looked good for Tina. Even on your worst day, you looked good for Tina. But Tina screwed it up.

Okay, I admit, I was getting carried away. So many feelings were resurfacing for me, that I didn’t know how to play it cool. I’d like to think I pulled it off well, but I’m probably just trying to fool myself.

I mean, the tone of voice in which I was speaking to her about Jodi? I knew it was flirtatious. Bitterly flirtatious. Did I really tell her that she used to look at me the same way when we first started dating? Yep, I sure as hell did. My intention was not to come off as the bitter ex, especially in light of the fact that I was the one who ended things, but I couldn’t help it.