I'm tearing up the lettuce for the salad as Charlie plates the salmon. He's planned a romantic dinner at home tonight, but I'm just not in the mood.

Truth is, I'm a little miffed.

Charlie had spent the entire hour at my friends' house talking exclusively to Jack and completely ignoring me. When I said as much on the ride home, he looked at me like I was nuts. Then he practically yelled that I "should be happy" that he got along with my friends so well tonight, considering he "didn't even want to go over there in the first place." Then, to punctuate his point, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, hard enough to jiggle the tray of coins on the dash.

After that, I dropped the conversation and spent the rest of the ride staring out the window.

Which is how I spotted Tommy's car in the parking lot of The Westlake Pub.

I knew it was his, not just because it was at a place he sometimes frequents, but because of the Grateful Dead sticker on his back windshield. My heart immediately dropped into my stomach as I tried to tell myself I didn't care. I took a look over at Charlie and actually felt glad that I was sitting in his car instead of Tommy's POS Camry. A custom Mercedes wins out any day, even when I'm peeved at its driver.

And now back at Charlie's house, I watch him fiddling with the built-in digital surround system, queuing up a soundtrack for our dinner.

When I hear that he has purposefully chosen "Brown-Eyed Girl" as the first musical selection, my ire starts to dissolve. This is the song he sang to me in the car on the way home from our first date.

I suddenly realize it's stupid for me to ruin our romantic evening by being angry with him, and come up with the idea to seduce him over a glass of wine before dinner.

Just as I uncork the bottle, there's a knock on the front door, and Charlie shrugs on his way out of the room to answer it. All I can make out is some happy voices of greeting, followed by the echo of footsteps through the expanse of marble in the two-story foyer.

The next thing I know, I'm face-to-face with Charlie's mother and sister.

They are just as he described. Charlie has explained that while he inherited his father's northern Italian genes, his mother and sister were pure Mediterranean. And he was right. Both have similar olive skin, brown eyes and long, dark hair (save for the wisps of grey at Mrs. Giamatti's temples). His mother is pretty tiny, but Arabella is about the same size as me, and probably around my same age, too.

Charlie gives me an apologetic look from behind their questioning heads as he introduces us.

"Mom, Arabella, this is Shana."

Mrs. Giamatti manages a polite smile, but it's obvious this is the first time she's even heard my name. Arabella, on the other hand, can't even muster up enough class to contain the perplexed look on her face as she tries to figure out just what in the hell this strange woman is doing in her brother's kitchen.

Wow, Charlie, guess you couldn't wait to tell them all about me.

Under normal circumstances—ones in which I've been prepared to meet new people—I would smile and say hello. But this uninvited assault on my romantic evening, not to mention the attack on my pride, is no cause for mandatory pleasantries.

I purse my lips and nod my head, then go back to pouring the wine.

Charlie sounds a little flustered when he suggests, "Uh... Here, Shana. Why don't you fill these up too while you're at it?"

He slides two more glasses in my direction which I almost knock over when he adds, "Mom and Bella are going to join us for dinner!"

* * *

I'm lying wide-awake in Charlie's humongous bed, staring at the clock on his wall, watching nervously as each minute ticks by. It's only ten-thirty, but I don't know how much more time I can waste waiting to make sure Charlie's really asleep.

I hatched my little plan somewhere between the grilled salmon and my fourth glass of wine. I was pretty pissed that my boyfriend made me sit through an unexpected meal with his family, but at least they left the minute we were finished eating. After that, it was a simple matter of hiding my anger in order to take him to bed. Just as I'd hoped, a vigorous romp between the sheets worked to knock him out quicker than a Nytol.

I sneak out of from under the covers quietly, get myself dressed, and tiptoe downstairs to call Livia.

She answers the phone and I launch right in.

"I need you to come out with me tonight."

"Tonight? Shane, what the hell? I'm in bed."

"But you're not sleeping yet."

"I'm in my PJs!"

Grrr. Why is she making this difficult? We're wasting precious time.

"I'm not suggesting you hit The Westlake in your pajamas. Just get dressed and I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

"Ugh. The Westlake? Really?"

"Livia, I need you! Please, alright?"

"Fine. But you're gonna owe me. Bigtime."

I zoom over to Livia's house and try to ignore her dirty looks as she gets in the car. Before she even gets the door closed, she starts in.

"So, what's with the sudden urgency to hit The Westlake on a Wednesday night? Undeniable craving for Buffalo wings?"

"Very funny."

"So what's the deal? What could possibly require my presence so desperately?"

"Well, I couldn't just walk in there alone!"

Livia sighs and says aghast, "As if!" She laughs and asks, "But what's going on that's so important that you felt the need to drag me out of bed?"

"Well, if you must know—"

"Uh, yeah, I must. Ten minutes ago I was snuggled up with my fiancé getting ready to go to sleep, remember?"

I decide to just let out with it already. "Fine. We're going to the bar because on the way home from your house before, I saw Tommy's car in the parking lot and I'm hoping he'll still be there."

"You're kidding me."

I glance at Livia, looking at me like I just grew another head. "What?"

"Tommy? That's what this is about? You dragged me out of bed tonight to pull the old accidently-on-purpose thing?"

"Yeah, but it's not what you think. I just want to see him, that's all."

"So, what, are you like, stalking him now? What about Charlie?"

I roll my eyes at the mention of Charlie's name. "Charlie let his family ruin what should have been a very romantic evening." I catch Livia's confused expression and explain, "His mother and sister popped in for a surprise visit, so he invited them to join us for dinner."

"So?"

"So? So, his stupid sister kept asking me stupid questions all night about 'where do you work, Shana' and 'where are you from, Shana,' like she's conducting an interview for 60 Minutes or something."

"Um... maybe she was just trying to get to know you?"

"Wrong. She was trying to grill me, I'm telling you. Trying to see if I was worthy of her big brother's time and attention. Hell, he probably put her up to it. So, no, I'm not really concerned with Charlie right now. I mean, seriously... how was I supposed to answer when she asked me what I thought of Ashleigh?"

"Hmmm. I don't know, how about 'well, I've only met her a couple of times, but I'm looking forward to getting to know her better.' Why? What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean, 'nothing'?"

"I just blew her off. I shrugged and went back to my salad."

"Shane! Are you kidding? That's his family! You can't just treat them like that!"

"I'm not dating his family, Livia. I didn't go there tonight to have dinner with his family. It's not my problem that they showed up unannounced. They weren't even supposed to be there and then all of a sudden I'm expected to just smile while they practically interrogate me?

"But ranking on his daughter? Their granddaughter and niece? Shane, you just can't do that."

"Sure I can. She's a brat and they're nosey. I really don't care what those losers think of me."

"Obviously not. Hell of a first impression."

"Probably."

We pull into the lot at The Westlake and thank God, Tommy's car is still here. I park, pull down the visor mirror, and touch up my hair and lipstick before heading inside.

Livia, the old trooper, is right by my side as we head up to the bar. Sure as shit, it only takes me a few seconds to locate Tommy sitting on the other end of it. He's here with Ronnie, Tess's husband, who nods in our direction. Tommy turns in his seat and I try to look surprised to see him.

He turns back around.

Ronnie, at least, has the decency to come over and say hello.

"So, what are you pretty little things doing out on a school night?"

Livia starts to say something about chicken wings, but I cut her off with, "We were in the neighborhood. I went over to see the new house and then we decided to come out for a drink."

"Well, then, I'm buying," he offers cheerfully. "What'll you have?"

I absently ask for a water and hear Livia request, "Some cyanide, thanks."

I'm trying not to look at Tom, but it's been two whole months since I've seen him. He looks good. He cut his hair.

It's taking Ron some time to flag down the bartender, so I use the opportunity to steal his empty barstool. I walk over and slide myself into the seat next to my ex-boyfriend.

"Hi there."

Tom doesn't take his eyes off of the TV. "Hi."

"How have you been?"

"Fine."

Real great start we're off to.

I watch Tom's hands wrap around his beer mug as his face peers into it attentively, avoiding my eyes.

"So, what, you won't even look at me?"

He raises his eyes slowly, finally meeting mine. The look on his face is bored, but I know he's just trying to play it cool.

"Shay, I'm a little drunk right now and I plan on getting drunker still. I'm a little horny, too, if you want to know the truth. The only things I want to do tonight is get drunk and get laid. Unless you're prepared to assist me with either of those two things, I'll ask you just to please leave me alone. Got it?"

Whoa.

I'm surprised that Tommy is being so crude. Then again, he wasn't ever one for beating around the bush. His message can't be any clearer.

I take a twenty from my purse and impassively slap it down on the bar. "Maybe this will help you out while you're here."

I get up from my seat and head back over to Livia and Ron, who are having a laugh over their beers.

I stand behind Livia and tap her eagerly on the shoulder.

"Liv?"

"Hey, how'd it go?"

I shrug, not committing to a definite answer one way or the other. What can I possibly say?

Instead, I turn to Ron and direct a question his way. "Actually, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind driving Liv home whenever she's ready to go?"

Livia jumps up from her stool. "No, that's okay, Shana, I'll leave with you now. I'm not planning on staying."

Sometimes Livia can be a real dud. Saved from a boring night at home, she gets dressed, puts on makeup, and comes here with me tonight. Now that she's out, I would think she'd at least want to make a night of it. Yet here she is at the first opportunity 'not planning on staying.'

I can't help but smirk. "Okay... but I am."

Her jaw drops as I ask in afterthought if Ron even has a car here tonight.

He says, "Uh, yeah, sure, no problem. You just make sure my boy gets home alright, yes?"

I tell him, "Of course," before turning away and heading back over to the other side of the bar...

where Tommy's waiting.

*** Ugh Shana is just THE WORST.

If you've read my other books, you may have noticed some familiar names in this story. We were first introduced to Tess in REMEMBER WHEN...  Livia and Jack are from DOWN THE SHORE, of course (along with Ronnie, Tom, Vix, Isla, and Sam)... and Kim is a character from my work-in-progress titled FAREWELL, MY SUMMER LOVE.

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Thanks for your upvotes and comments! BITCH just hit its first list this week at #14!! Thanks for reading! ***