“Call who?”
Arwen took a gigantic sigh and let it out. “I’m sorry, Court. I’ve been keeping something from you. To be honest, I’ve been keeping it from myself because I’m a wuss and a weenie.”
“You are not a wuss. You’re my friend…I think.”
Arwen’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I should have called you and had a long talk about this. But I was just so confused. And scared. You know, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write music and sing. But I hate being on the stage, and nobody ever listens. Except Rory, and you, and Melissa when she comes, which isn’t very often. And it’s not just the music. I’m so wishy-washy. Look at me. I have no style. My hair is brown and limp. I’m flat-chested. All these years I’ve just been waiting around, you know, for real life to start.”
Steve interrupted Arwen’s confused rant. She snatched up the margarita and took a gigantic gulp. Clearly Arwen was trying to anesthetize herself too. How many women could Matt Lyndon slay in one afternoon?
“Honey, you’re not wishy-washy. Have you even listened to your own songs?”
Arwen put her glass down with more force than was necessary. “I am wishy-washy. And you know how I know that? A few weeks ago, someone called me on the fact that I’ve been punting the ball my entire life. Working in a soul-sucking job where no one appreciates me. Walking the straight and narrow in order to avoid rocking any boats. And even though I knew he was right, I didn’t have the guts to face the truth. I ran away. Buried myself. And pretended that everything was great. But it’s not.” Her lower lip trembled, and tears filled her eyes. She picked up her glass and took another gigantic swallow of her drink.
Courtney dug in her purse and offered Arwen a tissue, which she accepted. “Honey, you have a great job. A great relationship with your parents. And a talent for writing killer lyrics. It could be a whole lot worse. Don’t let one guy ruin your self-image. Please.”
Courtney dabbed mascara from her cheeks and hauled in a huge breath. “He didn’t ruin my self-image. He revealed it. And you know what? I couldn’t even see it until Matt showed up. I mean, that guy was scared out of his mind the first time we met with Leslie, but he faced that fear like, I don’t know, a hero. And then he pushed me to organize a clandestine meeting with a source inside the county government, and I felt like I was in the middle of a murder mystery or something. And then, even when he knew he’d been beat, he still fought. And he did all that knowing it would get him in trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever met a braver man. And I figured, if he can be brave, maybe I can too.” She balled up the tissue and hoisted her margarita.
Oh boy, Arwen really had it bad for Matt. And Courtney could certainly understand how that might happen. If you ignored Matt’s womanizing, the guy had some pretty terrific qualities. But how could you ignore his womanizing? Her own heart squeezed in her chest, but she refused to give in to the hurt. Arwen needed her to be strong.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” Courtney said. “Matt’s not a hero. Remember he made you feel wishy-washy. Look at how he’s crushed your self-esteem. This is precisely what Hook-up Artists do, Arwen.”
Arwen choked on her drink.
“It’s okay,” Courtney said, patting her back. “I don’t blame you. Just because he was sleeping with both of us doesn’t have to wreck our friendship. I mean, it’s on him, not—”
“What?” Arwen’s words came out as one-part cough.
“You heard me.” Courtney lowered her voice into a whisper. “I failed to follow my own advice. I…well…the thing is…he moved in next door and…”
“Oh my God, you’re sleeping with Matthew Lyndon?” Arwen said this in a loud voice. Thank God it was a few minutes past three on a weekday afternoon and the Jaybird was deserted.
“Keep your voice down. I know it’s a shock. I mean, I didn’t realize he was two-timing us until I saw you with him this morning.”
Arwen blinked at Courtney for fifteen awkward seconds before she burst out laughing.
“What?”
“I’m not sleeping with Matt,” Arwen managed between belly laughs.
“You’re not? But—”
“But what?”
“You kissed him.”
“Yeah, on the cheek. Because, well, he’s a great guy. He could have punted on those people, Courtney. He could have done what I’ve been doing for years. He could have accepted the injustice and walked away. But he wouldn’t. He kept picking at it. And now he’s created a huge shit storm.” Her voice wavered.
“What kind of shit storm?” The knot in Courtney’s stomach was beginning to loosen, and a strange, almost euphoric sense of relief percolated through her.
“Well, for starters, he’s gotten me fired from LL&K.” Arwen’s voice wobbled.
“What? And you think he’s a hero?”
“Yeah. I do. I would never have left LL&K on my own. He did me a huge favor, Courtney. Now I just need to find the courage to follow through.”
“Follow through how?”
Arwen pulled her purse from the hook under the bar and dug around in it for a moment before withdrawing a small folded piece of paper. She held it up. “By calling the number on this Post-it note.”
“Okay, and whose number is it?”
Arwen blushed a spectacular shade of pink. She leaned in and whispered, “Rory Ahern’s.”
“Rory?”
She nodded. “He listens to my music.”
He was also covered in tattoos, had a bad-boy vibe and a dangerously sexy Irish lilt to the way he spoke. Not the kind of guy Courtney would have chosen for Arwen. But then again, who was she to do the choosing? Wasn’t that the lesson she needed to learn here?
A huge wave of remorse and guilt hit her bloodstream. She’d screwed up. Big-time. What an idiot she’d been. About
