In Casey’s car on the way to the beach I’m staring out the window wondering if Alyna knows how to suck cock when Casey starts the following conversation with me:
Casey says, “Yesterday I get this e-mail from Lem. He asks me if I was invited to Eliza’s party. And, of course, I was, but he wasn’t. So I e-mail him back that I was. Then he e-mails me back and asks if I can forward him the invitation just so he can see who was invited. I mean, what is he thinking? So I e-mail back that I’d forward it to him, but I told him if he doesn’t get invited he can’t go. You know, like don’t use this e-mail that I’m about to forward you as an invitation if you don’t get one yourself. Then he e-mails me back that he’s all pissed off at me because how dare I think that he would try to come to a party that he wasn’t invited to and blah, blah, blah—and I’m trying to IM with Nancy at the same time to see what she’s wearing to the party, but his e-mails keep popping up. I was so afraid I was accidentally going to send him an e-mail about what he’s wearing to the party after I pretty much already told him not to come. I couldn’t believe he got so mad when I told him not to show up unless he got his own invitation. Who does that? Who comes to a party without an invitation? I mean, he shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t get invited to things. He just doesn’t know what it’s all about, you know? I mean, can you believe that?”
I say, “Huh-uh.”
She says, “Then he sends me another e-mail where he’s mad because Joan got invited and he didn’t. I mean, of course Joan’s going to get invited. That doesn’t mean he is. You know, it’s like he thinks Greg still owes him something or something. If he wasn’t so socially retarded he might get invited to more parties. And plenty of people think that, but it’s like, who’s going to be the one to tell him? So anyway, the last e-mail he sends me is all like crazy and pissed off about the fact that he hasn’t been invited to the last two parties and he asked me to e-mail Eliza and ask her to e-mail him an invitation. Can you believe that?”
I say, “Huh-uh.”
She says, “I didn’t even write him one back. If he’s that desperate to go to her party, then he can ask her himself. Can you imagine me e-mailing her to ask if she’ll invite Lem to her party? Oh, yeah, and he asks me if I have Shawna’s phone number. Hello, Shawna moved to New York like four months ago. If you don’t have her number, it’s because she doesn’t want you to have it. I mean, seriously, learn to take a hint. And he sends me this thing that he sent to like thirty other people about his stupid jazz trio playing somewhere in North Hollywood. North Hollywood, can you believe that?”
I say, “Huh-uh.”
She says, “Who plays in North Hollywood? Nobody good. I’m sure nobody’ll go. I kind of feel sorry for him. But it’s like it’s his own fault, you know. He just doesn’t get the whole thing. So then I send Eliza an e-mail saying basically watch out for an e-mail from Lem inviting himself to her party. He’s been asking around about why he wasn’t invited. Then she e-mails me back saying that Lem already called her at work and wanted to know what the deal was—if Eliza had lost his e-mail address or something. She told him that she was sorry and she must have lost his e-mail otherwise he would have been invited, but the party was only open to the first fifty people who RSVPed because her place is kind of small. Then she told him that she’d definitely make sure he was on the list for her next party, but there’s no way. Now he’ll never get invited to anything again because everybody knows that he tried to invite himself to this party. I just—I mean, can you imagine being like that?”
I say, “Huh-uh.”
An old No Doubt song comes on the radio. She doesn’t say anything while it plays. I think about Alyna’s ass and what she’s like after sex. When the song’s over Casey says, “Oh, yeah, my sister had her baby yesterday and my parents bought me a ticket to go home and see her. So I’ll be gone for a few days next week.”
I say, “That’s great.”