“Yes, your phone,” he repeats with a grin. “I thought we could exchange numbers and then I’d text you the address so you’d have it tomorrow. Isn’t that pretty standard with this kind of thing? That we exchange phone numbers so that I can call you if I get into trouble?”

I shake my head and wave him off casually, like I’m just being absentminded. “Right, right. Of course. I’m just a little . . . it’s been a long day.”

In my head, I smack my forehead. That’s almost exactly what I said at the store last week. If I’m to continue this charade, I’ll have to come up with something better than “a long day” to excuse my lack of knowledge.

I dig out my phone and hand it to Jet. I try not to focus too much on how big and perfectly formed his hands are, or how nimbly his fingers move over the screen of my smartphone. It’s not like me to feel this kind of instant attraction—or really, very much attraction at all—to a guy. To say I’m flustered would be a grave understatement.

When Jet finishes, he hands me back my phone and then punches something into his own. A few seconds later, my phone bleeps with an incoming text. I glance down to see his name and number pop up.

“Around ten?” he asks.

I open the text, not recognizing the address. But at least I won’t be going by myself.

I glance up at Jet. “I’ll be there.”

The smile he gives me could stop a car. Or my heart. Or maybe both. “Great. I look forward to it.”

I’m a little concerned by the fact that, now, I do, too.

TEN: Jet

I’ve never really felt like a piece of shit before. Not until tonight.

I mean, I’m always up front with women about who I am and what I want. They know what to expect. They know me. Or at least the me that they see onstage.

But not Violet. Not only is she nothing like the women I’m used to, but she has no idea who I am or what I’m like. And what kinds of despicable things I’m capable of. Not really.

Tonight was an all-time low for me, though. I really didn’t think I’d feel this bad about it, so I’m a little surprised. I think the worst part, the part that makes me feel the shittiest, is that I’m not going to call it off. I could tell her not to come, but I won’t. Why? Because there’s something I want more than I want to feel good about myself.

This isn’t about success or proving a point or winning. This is about me wanting a woman. One woman in particular.

Violet. I want Violet, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have her. Period. End of story. And that is who I am. That is the real me.

ELEVEN: Violet

“What is this place?” I ask Tia when we pull up outside a huge, elaborately decorated red barn.

“It’s the old Pfizer barn. Have you never been out here before?”

“No, should I have?”

Tia rolls her eyes. “Good God, you really do need to get out more. They’ve been renting this place out for parties for, what, five or six years now?”

“Some of us have better things to do than party in old barns,” I snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Tia starts backpedaling immediately, sympathy dripping from her tone. “I’m sorry, Vi. I know you’ve never really had time for fun.”

I send a frown over to Tia as I cut the engine. “I don’t want your pity, Tia. That’s not what I was getting at. I chose to do what I did. I was simply reminding you of that, reminding you of why I’m so clueless about Greenfield pop culture.”

“I know. And I know it was your choice. Well, sorta.” Tia turns in her seat to face me. “Don’t forget, Vi, I’ve known you since we were kids, since that first summer your dad had to bring you over to my house while he was mowing the grass. You were sick and he was afraid to leave you, afraid your mom wouldn’t come back. You’ve spent most of your life taking care of everybody else. As you got older, maybe it was a choice, but when you were younger it wasn’t. I remember all the things we invited you to do that you couldn’t do because either you were afraid to leave your dad or you were worried that your cousin might do something stupid. That’s no way to grow up, Violet.”

“I like helping people, Tia. You know that. It’s who I am.”

“I know that, but at times, it’s been to the exclusion of everything else, everyone else. It’s not healthy for you not to have a life of your own. You need time to do the things that make you happy.”

“I do have time for things that make me happy.”

“Name one.”

“I baked a caramel apple spice cake last weekend using a recipe I found online, one I’d been dying to try. You know how much I love to bake.”

“Yes, I know that. But why were you doing it? Why were you baking rather than us going shopping like you had planned for three weeks? Who was the cake for?”

I pause. I know that telling her the truth will only make her point for her. “It was for me. And Dad.”

“Viii,” Tia warns, looking at me from narrowed eyes.

“Fine. It was for a new landscaping client Dad is trying to sign.”

“See? Everyone and their crisis comes before you. Everyone.”

I don’t bother to mention that I do a lot for Tia, too. She definitely benefits from my desire to help people and fix their problems.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Tia. It doesn’t make me a monster.”

“No, it just keeps you from finding your own happiness in life.”

“Helping people does make me happy.”

“But I know you want more. You have to want more.”

“What if I don’t? What if this is all I’d like to do for the rest of my life? Is that so terrible?”

Sadness fills Tia’s eyes. “No, it’s not so terrible, Vi. I just hate to see you end up alone. That’s all.”

“There are worse things than ending up alone, Tia.”

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?”

I look closely at my best friend and, for once, I’m brutally honest. “I don’t think I do.” She gasps in outrage. I knew she would never understand. “Maybe I don’t want to pin all my hopes and dreams and happiness on one person. Maybe I don’t want to give them the power to destroy me. Maybe I don’t want to need someone like that. Maybe I want to be strong enough to stand on my own.”

Tia’s brow wrinkles. “You think love makes you weak?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Of course not. Look at me and Dennis. Look how happy we are.”

“Are you, Tia? Are you really? Is Dennis? Do you know what it does to him every time you cheat on him? Do you know how much it hurts him? Can’t you see how crushed he is when it happens?”

Tia tilts her head and looks at me like I’m being a difficult child. “That’s not the way it is, Violet, and you know it. Dennis knows that I’m not really interested in another man the way I am in him. Those were just . . . they were just . . . flings.”

“To you maybe, but Tia, they’re killing Dennis. Why do you think the SAA meetings were even suggested? Did you think he was just trying to be mean? To get back at you?”

“No, I . . .”

I can see by the look on her face that she’s never really considered Dennis’s true feelings. Not really. And it’s not that Tia is an awful person, or that she’s heartless. She’s just weak. She’s addicted to attention and approval, both things she never got from her dad. And getting them from Dennis just isn’t enough, not when she’s feeling low. Like most addicts, there’s a physical component to the addiction, but most of it is psychological. Emotional.

The mood in the car is somber and serious, even more so than what is usual for me. I feel the need to lift it. And lift Tia. This is not why I brought her along. Yes, I want her to open her eyes and really see herself and her . . . proclivities, but I would never hurt her to do it.

So I change the subject.

“Well, Miss Social Butterfly, now’s your chance to show me how the fun half live. Let’s go get me into some more trouble.”

I say the last with as much playfulness as I can muster, but it’s too soon. Tia is still stinging.

“That’s my fault, too, isn’t it, Vi?”

Her chin trembles like she’s on the verge of tears. As is my nature, I want to make her feel better. I reach over and grab her hand, wiggling it back and forth. “Nah. I was getting bored with my deception-free, sex-addict-free evenings. I needed a little som’n som’n.”

Tia’s smile is tremulous, but I know by her teasing that she’ll soon be over this little setback. “Well, you’re in luck. I just so happen to know a guy who can give you a little som’n som’n.”

“Geez, Tia, the guy’s a sex addict. Isn’t that kind of like shooting fish in a barrel? Singling out the weak one in the herd and all that?”

“Hey, I’m only looking out for you. I’m not worried about the weak one or the herd. I’m your friend. The least I can do is get you an orgasm before that thing freezes up on you.”

“Tia!”

“Don’t ‘Tia’ me! I remember how things were with you and Connelly. He fired you up about as much as an Eskimo in midwinter. But not all men are like that. And if I was a betting girl, which I’m not because I don’t need to add gambling to my list of problems, I’d bet you anything that Jet could make your panties spontaneously combust with a snap of his fingers. From across the room.” She’s nodding her head to emphasize her point.

I just shake my head. “You’re one twisted girl. And I like my panties just the way they are, thank you very much.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes like I’m a lost cause. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“And what, exactly, is that?”

“That this is an emergency. Tonight is more than just an outing with my bestie. Tonight begins the ‘Save the Vagina’ campaign.”

With a nod, Tia unfolds her long legs from my passenger seat, gets out, and closes the door behind her. I see her dig her underwear out of her crack before she turns and bends down to smile at me through the window.

I hear her muffled words as she mouths at me, “My ass loves these things like a fat kid loves chocolate.”

Again, I shake my head. I do that a lot around Tia.

TWELVE: Jet

I see her the instant she walks in. Obviously, I’ve been watching for her, but I would’ve spotted her anyway. There’s something about Violet, Sex Addict that just draws me. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I’ve got a pretty good idea that it has at least a little something to do with her favorite pastime.

I weave my way through the crowd toward her. She and her friend haven’t moved beyond the door. They’re just standing in the entrance, looking around with wide eyes. Tia looks like she’s about to laugh. Violet looks like she’s about to bolt.

“Welcome, ladies,” I say when I stop in front of them. I make eye contact with Violet’s turbulent gray ones. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Is this,” she begins in a hushed voice, her eyes shifting left and right before returning to me. “What is this?”

“It’s a bachelor party,” I say with a cringe. “One of my best friends from high school is getting married, and this isn’t something I could really say ‘no’ to, you know?”

She nods slowly, looking around the wildly decorated barn interior. Among the various sizes, shapes, and positions of blow-up dolls that are dotted throughout the room, there are balloons made from condoms, an ice sculpture of a busty na**d woman, and a service staff of girls that look like Playboy bunnies. It’s any man’s waking fantasy.

I can see by the shock on her face that this is hardly what Violet, Sex Addict was expecting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. I was afraid you wouldn’t come. And I really, really needed you to be here.”

Her eyes finally make their way back to mine, and she smiles tentatively. “No, it’s fine. I can see why this kind of thing would be hard for you. So I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you sure?”

She takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I glance over her shoulder at the wide, exhilarated eyes of her friend. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Violet glances back as well, then shrugs at me. “I sure hope so.”

Just as I’m about to escort them to the bar, one of Jake’s friends whose name I can’t remember makes a lunge for Tia.

“Hey,” he slurs, righting himself and petting her arm like his favorite fur jacket, “are you one of the strippers? Holy shit, I hope so. There’s nothing that would make this night more perfect than seeing your luscious tits and those long—”

“Stop right there, man,” I say to him, tugging him back from Tia, “these are my guests. They’re not the entertainment. Take your drunken pawing somewhere else, all right?”

He turns bleary eyes on me. “Hey, who asked you? I was talking to the lllady.”

“No, you were about to get the piss slapped out of you. Do you really think she looks interested in talking to you?”

The guy slowly turns his head from me to Tia, back to me, and then back to Tia again.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he says, stumbling forward as if to hug her.

“That’s enough, dude. Time for you to go find someone else to talk to,” I tell him, grabbing his upper arm.