Today’s our last day with Brook as we visit with a new character next week. Stay tuned.
There are certain people you meet in life that you instantly know you’re going to like. You just click. You’re in awe of how clever or insightful they are as they delight you with their witty repartee. Gus is one of those people. So is Brook. Kitty Sinclair, however, is not one of those people. After 20 minutes of being dragged through kitty’s litter, I’ve learned way more than I need to know about Gus’ new girlfriend.
Kitty is not only a Vassar graduate and a natural blonde (although that remains highly debatable), she’s also the founder and proprietor of Kittycakes, New York City’s (soon to be) next big thing.
“You mean another cupcake shop in Manhattan?” I ask, sipping the Long Island Iced Tea Sebastian has lovingly dropped off during his power strut from one end of the bar to the other.
“Cupcakes are all the rage right now, Joshua,” Kitty offers, setting her Martini down.
“He hates being called Joshua,” Gus says, trying not to laugh, “but feel free to call him it anyway.”
"Look, I don’t mean to rain on your kitty cake parade, but hasn’t the whole cupcake thing peaked already.”
“I’m telling you,” Gus says, jumping to the rescue, “those other places have got nothing on Kitty. Her cupcakes are out of this world. One might even say they’re...kittylicious.”
Kitty coos as she turns and hugs Gus while I try not to spit up my drink since my once tough and rugged friend has been reduced to a giggling Girl Scout. I spin my stool back to Brook, who is doing one hell of a job of flirting with the ridiculously gorgeous Italian man next to her, despite the fact he’s out of both of our leagues. Mine, because it's entirely possible he's a model for GQ, and Brook’s, because he’s clearly gay. I feel sorry for Brook. She’s always had trouble finding guys who will stick with her for any real amount of time.
“I’m the girl that everybody wants to be with, but nobody wants to love,” a sobbing Brook confided in me one drunken evening in her apartment.
In between gasps, I tried to comfort her as she finished off an entire pizza without offering me a slice. Brook can tend to be a bit self-centered, but she's never purposely rude like that. Normally, she would have joyfully slid the box over to me, but Brook was having one of her episodes, and when those happen, all bets are off. I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, not to mention incredibly hungry. “I’m a big girl with a big personality, and I got it going on,” she mumbled as she shimmied back and forth spilling pizza grease everywhere, “yet nobody wants to date me.”
But that was Brook a month and a half ago, she’s on the mend now, or an upswing as Paige and I like to call it. Who knows how long it will last though?
“Oh. My. God. Heeeeeeey,” Brook squeals, tossing her arms up over her head as she turns toward the door. I reach for my drink and cringe knowing from her high pitched shrill exactly who it must be.
Throwing back the last of my L.I. tea, I slowly turn over my shoulder to find none other than the gayest couple in all of Gayville, Brendan and Brandon Wilson-Thompson-Parker, the Third.
Oh God, kill me now.