“Hey, I have an idea,” I say. “Let’s get back to the game.”
Melissa ignores me. “The people at Turpin are more professional,” she says.
Zach nods. “And not self-important quacks.”
Brandy’s starting to sweat. “Let’s … ah … let’s all get along. No problems, okay? Whose turn is it?” She sounds like a harried preschool teacher.
“I don’t have a problem,” Melissa says sweetly. Her stare cuts to Nicholas. “Do you have a problem?”
Zach looks elated. He loves drama and definitely wants someone to have a problem.
Nicholas’s face darkens as he grows quiet. A storm cloud above my head begins to rotate, sucking all of my energy. When I want him around, he’s never there. When I don’t want him around, he’s the devil on my shoulder. If he gets into a fight with my friends, my work life is going to suck. Will he care? No.
We’re playing Clue at the kitchen table when Nicholas makes his next move. His ego is all bruised and battered now, so it was only a matter of time before he struck back.
He turns to Melissa. Cocks his head. “Didn’t you use to go out with Seth Walsh?”
He knows damn well that Melissa used to date Seth. He also knows that Seth cheated on her with a married dental hygienist who works with him. Rise and Smile is a hotbed of scandal.
Melissa glares at him, then me. “Yeah.”
“Hmm. Why’d you break up, again?”
Cyclops from X-Men has nothing on the burning fury in Melissa’s stare. “We broke up,” she says venomously, “because I was walking out of the West Towne Mall one day and I saw Seth’s car in the parking lot. When I went over there, he was in the back seat screwing another woman.” She doesn’t add it, but we all think of the rest: On top of Melissa’s Lawrence University sweater.
I vividly remember the day she discovered them. At that point, I’d been working at the Junk Yard, a shop of eclectic finds, for roughly three months and Melissa and I were friendly. We bonded over our mutual loathing of Zach’s playlist, which he subjects us to on Wednesdays when it’s his turn to control the music, as well as owning the same checkered shirt and red jeans, which we used to purposefully wear on the same day.
I haven’t worn my checkered shirt together with my red jeans since our falling out, because I don’t want her to think I pine for the good old days when she didn’t vibrate with fury at the sight of me. How could you not have known? Nicholas’s BFF getting it on with Nicholas’s own coworker! He had to have known, and he would’ve told you about it. You let me make a fool of myself over that guy and didn’t say anything. I truly didn’t know Seth was cheating and still feel guilty for introducing them. Nicholas says he didn’t know, either, but I can’t make any promises on that front.
“Seth’s an asshole,” Zach says, rolling the die and moving one space short of the kitchen door. The murder weapon has got to be the rope, which is the only clue I’ve worked out. Zach’s going to guess everything correctly. He has a superhuman knack for this game and won the previous two rounds as soon as he edged his little Colonel Mustard game piece into a room.
Nicholas, who wouldn’t play unless he got to be Professor Plum, cuts Zach a dirty look. “You don’t even know Seth, so don’t talk about him. He’s my friend.”
“Doesn’t say much about you, then.” Zach is honestly fearless and he will tell you exactly what he thinks about you, right to your face. It’s a quality I find nerve-racking when I’m on the receiving end of it, and right now I’m somewhere between reveling in watching someone stand up to Nicholas and embarrassment that my personal guest is about to ruin this party. I forget to be an actress who pretends to be one hundred percent in love, and Nicholas glances at me, noting my silence, before turning his stare to Zach.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zach is a shark. “I mean that you choose asshole friends, and that reflects poorly on you.”
Across the table, Brandy fidgets with her Miss Scarlet figurine and Leon’s eyes flash to mine.
“Obviously, Melissa’s still upset about Seth cheating,” Zach continues. “You could easily keep your mouth shut, since you know she has every right to be upset, but instead you rush to his defense. There’s a reason you’re empathizing with the asshole, and that’s because you see yourself in him. Ergo, you’re also an asshole.”
You could hear a fly land on the wall.
I’m supposed to reach for my poor fiancé’s hand. Tell Zach to shut up. Declare that we’re leaving. But Nicholas’s expression makes me pause.
His mouth is pursed as he prepares his rebuttal, and he looks around the room with palpable disdain. He’s seeing himself as the successful son of two wealthy pillars of this bite-size community, rescuing the oversugared population of Morris one cavity filling at a time. He’s seeing my coworkers as lowly maggots crawling through the detritus at the bottom of the trash heap. They work at the Junk Yard, which sells alligator heads and novelty whoopee cushions with Whoopi Goldberg’s face on them. Mexican jumping beans and mugs that say swear words when you fill them with hot water. When he judges my peers and finds them lacking, he forgets that I’m one of them. To Nicholas, it’s Us versus Them.
Brandy looks anxious. She’s so sweet and bubbly that I doubt she’s ever seriously argued with anyone in her life, and people not getting along is the worst thing that can happen right in front of her.
“Zach,” I belatedly warn through gnashed teeth.
“Can you try to get along with everybody?” Brandy implores him. “Does anyone want more pizza rolls? I have cupcakes, too. Everyone have everything they need?” She half rises from her chair. “Water? Soda?”
Zach pushes her back into her seat with two fingers on her shoulder. “I’m getting along with everybody just fine. Your turn.”
Brandy’s hand trembles as she rolls the die, and Nicholas is all finished deciding what vulgar thing he wants to say to Zach.
“I understand why you’re so emotional. Having no real job security would put anyone on edge. Your store doesn’t get more than, what, three customers a day? You’ve got to be hemorrhaging money.” He flashes the same disingenuous smile that Zach has been giving him all evening. “When you’re ready, I know a guy at the temp agency who can help you.”
Zach raises two eyebrows at me, like we’re sharing a private joke Nicholas isn’t in on, then says to him, “You’re aware that your girlfriend works at the same place I do, right? If it closes, we’re not the only ones out of a job.”
“I make plenty of money. Naomi doesn’t need a job.”
Anger steams off me like ultraviolet rays.
“The store’s doing fine,” I say, which is a big fat lie. The store’s on its last wheezes. It’s been around forever, since Mr. and Mrs. Howard got married in the seventies, and at one time was widely popular because we specialize not only in gag gifts but in bizarre curiosities. People used to make our store a road trip destination. But ever since the dawn of Amazon and eBay, you don’t need to go out of your way to find weird, cultish knickknacks. With one click, you can have them delivered right to your door.