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sore reminder that we probably wouldn’t be getting our damage deposit back when we moved out.
    My dear friend was no stranger to my opinion of my dad’s, way too young, second wife. Second wife—geez. It’s sad to say, but I had really hoped by now Cinnamon would have smelled the old folks’ home on him and I would be referencing his third wife.
    “Are you taking Jesse?”
    “U-u-m, I haven’t exactly told my dad about Jesse, yet.” I winced at the thought. “I’m still waiting for the right moment.”
    Who was I kidding? There’d never be a right moment to introduce Jesse to my dad. They were polar opposites. No way would my dad approve of him.
    “Take him. Your dad needs to realize you don’t play with dolls anymore. You can make your own decisions about who you want to date.”
    “I wish. And to make matters worse, I have a feeling Jason will be there.”
    “Fuck, you’re kidding me.” She dropped her hand with the eye-liner, spun on her little pink stool and looked straight at me. “Oh, you have to take Jesse now, girl. I wish I could be there for that ‘cock’ fight,” she giggled.
    “You’re a real comedian, Kat,” I said dryly. “I get it.”
    Kat dabbed the corners of her eyes and said, “Who gives a shit what your dad thinks of him, anyway?”
    I sighed. She was right. I needed to show Jason and my dad that I’ve moved on. Besides, I don’t think I could face the whole evening at my dad’s alone. I needed Jesse’s support. Jesse would kill me, though. He would have no clue what he’d be walking into.
    I pounded the computer keyboard, entering ‘Google’ for an internet search and typed: Birthday gift ideas for a 28 year old skanky, bitch-whore stepmother.
    Google responded, “ Did you mean – Birthday gift ideas for a 28 year old, Spanks, rich décor, stepmother?
     Hmm. Didn’t work.
    “Jesse probably won’t go anyway, but I’ll ask.”
    Kat ran a quick brush through her long blond hair, jumped up and wrapped her arms around me in a ‘best friend’ hug. She looked me straight in the eyes. “Niki, promise me, whatever happens, you’ll tell me everything .” She laughed and grabbed her black leather guitar case from beside the bed.
    “Listen, hun. I gotta run. I have a rehearsal but I’ll see you at four-thirty, right?”
    “What’s at four thirty?” I asked.
    “Jesus, girl. Have you lost your brain this morning? Simone’s, for a mani-pedi, remember?”
    “Oh, right.” I replied. Kat tucked her chin in and stared at me, one hand on her hip. “I’ll be there, already.”
    “You better show up or I’ll spank your ass. I fucking mean it.”
    “Yeah and I’d probably like it.”
    She huffed. “Be there or be square.” She hoisted her guitar case by the handle and called out loudly, as she left the room, “Where’s my purse?” as if expecting the apartment itself to answer her.
    “It’s in the living room, on the floor at the end of the couch, where you always drop it.” There should be an iPhone app for that. Find My Purse, instead of Find My Phone. It would make millions. And with that thought, I heard the click of the front door as it swung shut.
    I picked up my iPhone, poked my finger at the letters on the screen, and wrote a short text message to Jesse, inviting him to the party.
    Send.
    That’s it.
    The cat was out of the bag.
    I glanced at the clock. Shit . I was late for class.

Chapter 5
    Jesse
    A shrill ringing pierced my ear drums, alerting me to the fact that, although the blinds were shut, the bedroom was still blazing with brightness. The damn vertical blinds on the window couldn’t compete with the intensity of the California sun and I wasn’t ready to wake up yet. I groaned. What the hell? The fucking alarm clock was raining audio torture down on me at 9:30 a.m. I jabbed at the pillow, rolling on my side and smashing it over my exposed ear. I wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. Did I set the alarm last night? I