“Man, that’s bullshit,” Hank was saying as he and Bree walked home. The streets were a little crowded around the club, but once they got closer to the resort, there were less people, and Bree felt herself sobering up with the beach air in her lungs.
“I mean, I guess I can’t blame her for being upset. I’d be upset if my fiancé was dancing with someone else, too. I guess.”
“No you wouldn't, not if it was a friend from high school. Besides, it’s not like Monica doesn’t dance with other guys.” He muttered something under his breath that Bree didn’t understand, but she thought he said something along the lines of “and worse.” She didn’t question it, though, because she felt like Hank was more upset about the situation now than she was.
They walked a bit further, the streetlights casting a glow on the sidewalk and street making them shine, as if it had rained, though Bree knew it hadn’t. It was a pleasant night outside of the club. She shouldn’t have even gone, but Hank had been so insistent. “Do you think… do you think she knows?” Maybe it was the alcohol that made her courageous enough to pose the question. Once it was out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t asked. She didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Knows what? That you wrote the song she’s requested you sing at her wedding for her fiancé? Come on, Bree. No one is dumb enough to request you sing a song you wrote for their fiancé at their own damn wedding. No, she doesn’t know.”
Bree rolled her eyes as they walked through the entrance to the resort. “No, I mean, do you think she knows that I have… had feelings for Trent?” Again, she’d have to blame the booze for that mess up. Maybe Hank was too drunk to have caught it.
“Was that present tense
someone who is allegedly a fan and wanted me to sing at her wedding, she seems a little put out that I’m
soft chuckle. “No, that’s just how she
walkway to her room. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her talk to
and she has a different level of respect for
her understanding that Monica hadn’t quite made it to that level yet, the “professional model” level she was reaching for. Not that Bree was one to talk. She hadn’t made
herself. She’s done a lot of shoots, just not at a national level. She’ll make it, though. Not only does she look and act like a model, she’s determined, and that goes a
defending Monica, though he wasn’t sure why. None of this was making much sense to her. She decided not to say any
twelve. We still have time to drink in the room a little while and get enough rest to kick everyone’s
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