Haze by Andrea Wolfe (best motivational books for students txt) 📕

Jack stood up with me and put his arm around my back, leading me around the house toward the front. I didn't need to think hard about any of this. Normally, this sort of arrangement—guy and girl hanging out with guy's ex girlfriend—would have been problematic. Look at what happened with Timothy and me...

But no, Stacy was not your run-of-the-mill ex-girlfriend. She was the ex-girlfriend worth hanging out with, the ex worth knowing, without a doubt.

And the thing with Dan would probably turn out just fine. I didn't need to be so paranoid. Tomorrow, Jack would assuage me with his knowledge and sensibility, his ability to simplify and act. I would voice my concerns and everything would be okay by the time we arrived in NYC.

All of this was making me reconsider my goals, however. I didn't know what I wanted them to be anymore—Dan being an asshole record label employee definitely didn't help my perception of the business—but I had time to think about that later.

Couldn't I just find another job if I lost the one at MCI? It was a huge city, so there had to be plenty of jobs available. Yet, the more I tried to convince myself it would be okay, the more overwhelming that prospect seemed.

Relax, Effie.

By the time Stacy met us up front, the limo had already arrived.

Chapter 16

We grabbed sushi at a semi-famous place, one where framed celebrity photos and autographs were pinned to the wall.

"Do you have one up there, Jack?" I asked.

He laughed. "No. But Stacy does." My vision followed his finger to a photo of Stacy smiling with the head sushi chef, her autograph decorating the bottom of the photo. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed it prior to him drawing attention to it.

"Hey, it was for a charity thing," she said awkwardly. "I know you don't get hounded for that stuff, Jack, but it's hard to say no without looking like an asshole."

"It's fine by me," I said supportively. "Good for you."

"See, at least someone cares," Stacy laughed, and it made me feel good about the whole lame exchange.

The sushi was great, and nobody bothered us while we ate. Then again, we had somewhat of a private booth away from the regular tables at Jack's request. I had some kind of super spicy 'dynamite' roll, one that Jack kept eying hungrily.

"Why didn't you just get it yourself?" I asked. "I'm not giving any of it up."

"He's always stupid about sushi," Stacy added.

"God, you guys are jerks," Jack said, quietly sipping his sake.

It was a good time.

After we were done eating, we headed back to the Roosevelt to go to Teddy's. Even though it was definitely a hipster hotspot, it was said to be a real taste of Hollywood nightlife.

"I don't love this place," Jack said. "I'll say that up front."

Stacy concurred. "Me either."

"Well, we can skip it, I guess," I mumbled quietly, hoping no one would take my suggestion, but adding to the conversation anyway. Teddy's—for me at least—was intended to be more of a distraction than anything else since I really wanted to come back to Los Angeles as soon as possible and experience even more.

"But," Jack said, pausing to ramp up the suspense, "it's a good introductory place. And I don't hate it. Samantha Ronson used to DJ here."

"Wait, who is she again?" I asked, her name instantly evoking a very blurry memory of something.

"There was all that shit about her and Lindsay Lohan. Someone was supposedly a bad influence on the other. Typical stuff here."

"I've met Lindsay a few times," Stacy interjected quietly. "She's really talented, but she's lost her focus."

Jack and I both nodded, our Lindsay Lohan knowledge already exhausted—and ready to enjoy ourselves.

The inside was great, the space filled with all sorts of attention-grabbing, stylish eye candy. Beautiful chandeliers hung from the ceiling, overlooking the fun that was taking place down below. It was dim and sexy, dark enough that you didn't have to feel self-conscious—but not so much that you fell over because you couldn't see where you were going.

Lights pulsed with music, the crowd was tireless and enthusiastic. The soundtrack was a blend of techno and Top 40, a combination I was okay with. Jack grabbed us all some drinks—I never really liked dancing while holding a glass or bottle, so I would drink fast—and then we prepared to have fun.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't usually one for going out to clubs like this. Jack had joked about it early on, speaking of his party past like it was something that he was ashamed of or had totally outgrown.

But something told me I just needed to embrace this weird scenario, to take the plunge and go for it. I hated to keep harping on the same redundant fact—yes, I was hanging out with Stacy Levons in Los Angeles and I couldn't believe it as usual—but damn, everything felt fresh and new when you added an element like that. There was no other way to describe it.

On top of that, it baffled me that I hadn't even considered the fact that Jack might have brought me to meet Stacy. I mean, even when we had arrived in Los Angeles and I had been elated to just be within the city limits, I hadn't considered it at all.

We danced and danced, all three of us, for what seemed like hours. I wasn't checking my cell phone, wasn't concerned about any worldly thing. After the incident today at the party, it was exactly what I needed. The dancing was a perfect catharsis, a full purge of my neurotic, panicked state.

Jack was goofy and charming on the dance floor—oh God, and it made everything far more fun than it should have been—always impressing us with a new move after we assumed we'd seen it all. He was totally uninhibited, and it only made me more comfortable with my own