Frenemies Read Online Free Page A

feeling totally grown-up to feeling about seventeen. Seventeen and
surly.
”
    Georgia clomped around the side of the desk in her knee-high court boots and collapsed into my visitor’s chair, pushing her long legs out in front of her. I took the opportunity to study her. Georgia looked grown-up because she looked corporate and hot all at the same time. Georgia was tall and had wild, curly, unprofessional hair. It was a mix of reds, auburns, and blonds—all of it completely natural. She claimed she used the hair as a weapon. It was ditz hair, so no one saw her coming. She liked to pair the hair with very austere, severe suits, which confused everyone.
    The Museum was thoughtfully located within walking distance of Georgia’s firm. This triumph of coincidental geography meant that I saw Georgia more than anyone else outside her law firm. Whenever she was in town and she could sneak away from her piles of documents for a few minutes, we had coffee at the Starbucks around the corner or the occasional dinner. Sometimes I thought I was the only thing tethering Georgia to the life she was no longer living outside office hours.
    She looked around, taking in the lazy afternoon stillness of the Museum, which was marred only by Minerva’s latest obsession: operatic arias. Extremely dramatic music floated down from her quarters, which took over the entire top floor of the building. Georgia raised her brow toward the staircase.
    “It’s been arias for almost a month.” I shrugged. “I’m expecting a change any day now. Care to place a bet?”
    “I’m still recovering from her brief flirtation with grunge rock, a decade late,” Georgia said darkly. “I’m not betting anymore.”
    In case I failed to mention it—Minerva sang. Very badly. Unlike me, she had never relinquished her dreams of stardom, and were it not for her Simon Cowell phobia, I had no doubt she would audition for
American Idol
in a heartbeat. Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was that scary woman who nipped into the karaoke bar (alone) and belted out five or six songs over the course of the evening to the horror of the assembled birthday and going-away partiers. Don’t ask me how I knew this—I was still emotionally scarred and, as Georgia had pointed out, vows had been made.
    “Court date?” I asked as Georgia glanced at her watch.
    “Soon,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure I was actually back on East Coast time, in Boston. I’ve been traveling so long, I’m never really sure where I am.”
    “Home sweet Beantown,” I assured her. “Do you have time for coffee?”
    “Not today,” Georgia said, and stood up again. “I’ll see you at the Halloween party tomorrow. We will look fabulous, we will be intimidating, and we will make sure no one remembers any singing incidents.”
    “I’m not going to the Halloween party.”
    “Of course you are.”
    “Georgia, please.” I glared at her. “I wasn’t going to the Halloween party as of two and a half weeks ago. If you concentrate, I bet you can remember why.”
    “The Halloween party is tradition,” Georgia argued. “There’s no reason you should give up long-term traditions just because one or two things have changed recently.”
    “You must be jet-lagged. Or maybe you’re just insane.” I held up a hand when she started to speak. “
Even if
I could somehow overlook the fact that Nate is
hosting
the freaking party
in the very house
where I discovered him
sucking face
with Helen—and who could overlook something like that, Georgia? Seriously?”
    “But it’s not like it’s actually
his
—”
    “
Even if
I could lobotomize myself so that I no longer cared about these things, the fact remains that I made a total ass of myself last night. I can’t walk in there and pretend that I don’t care that Nate’s with her
of all people
when forty-eight hours earlier I was belting out Janis Joplin three inches away from their faces. And it’s not like I can pretend it didn’t happen, either,