“But you could,” she said, her face growing hard.
“Could? ‘Hey Brian,'” I said, talking into my hand like a phone. “‘That chick that shouted at your wife in Target… yeah the crazy one, she’ll be at the reception—’ oh!” I said, looking at the imaginary phone with mock surprise. “He hung up.”
“Just don’t tell him,” she said.
“I’m not taking you as my date so you can get another shot at him. I have a date, an actual date, that I’ve already asked. Besides, he’s my friend.”
She looked away.
“And so are you,” I said, sighing.
Tale Told 