Morgan raised her fists to pound on the glass. But I grabbed her arms and held her back.
I saw what made her cry out. It was Lonny, tilted back in his tattoo chair with a girl on top of him. She had long blond hair and was wearing short shorts. Her legs sprawled over his and they were, shall we say, being as intimate as two people can be who are wearing clothes.
Yes, they were entwined in each other, Lonny’s arms around her waist, holding her down, their mouths locked together in a long kiss.
“I’m going to kill him!” Morgan cried.
I held on to her. She struggled to break free, to get to the door. She wanted to barge in, break them up, scream and cry at Lonny.
“No,” I said. “No. Morgan—no.”
I held on till she stopped struggling. She let out a long sigh and her body slumped, like a tire deflating.
I pulled her back, away from the window. “Not now,” I said. “Don’t go in there. Don’t do it. Not till we have a plan.”
I was surprised by the tears that trickled down Morgan’s face. I guess I didn’t really know how much she cared about Lonny. So I didn’t take any pleasure in knowing that I was right about him.
Lonny was seriously a creep.
I told you so. I told you so.
I thought it, but I didn’t say it.
I didn’t like to see my best friend in the world so upset and miserable. Lonny would have to pay. My devious mind was spinning with ideas.
I dragged Morgan to a Starbucks on the next block. We got lattes and took a table against the back wall. The place was nearly empty at five in the afternoon. Just a young woman wearing earbuds, typing away on a laptop, and two kids and a nanny having big chocolate chip cookies and juice.
Morgan had stopped crying, but her cheeks were still wet from her tears. She tapped her blue fingernails tensely on the tabletop and ignored her latte.
I sat across from her, cradling my cup between my hands. We didn’t talk for a long while. I was still thinking hard, scheming, trying to come up with the perfect plan to avenge my friend.
Finally, Morgan broke the silence. “Happy birthday to me,” she murmured under her breath. “I could kill that jerk. I feel like a total fool.”
“Shut up,” I said. “You’re not a fool.”
“He knew I was coming to pick him up,” she said. “He knew I was coming.”
“I guess he forgot,” I said.
Morgan spun the latte cup in her hand. “I wanted to strangle him. I really did.”
“I have a better plan than strangling,” I said. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.
She eyed me suspiciously. “What kind of a plan? If it doesn’t involve strangling, I probably won’t like it.”
I took a sip of my drink. I’d poured too much sweetener in. “I want to do something special for your birthday,” I said.
“Like strangle Lonny?”
“Shut up about strangling. I want to do it at Lonny’s tattoo parlor.”
She stared at me, one hand twisting the beads at her neck, waiting to hear the rest.
“Let’s give each other a tattoo and make it a surprise,” I said.
Her face twisted in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“You surprise me, and I’ll surprise you,” I said. “We’ll give each other a small tattoo, and we won’t tell what it is until we do it.”
She thought about it. “Tattooing is hard. You can’t just pick up a needle and tattoo someone.”
“Lonny will show us what to do,” I said. “He can do most of it. The main thing is, we’ll surprise each other.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “I like it. Only one problem. How does that help me get back at Lonny?”
I tapped the back of her hand. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a plan for him.”
