Free Love, Lies and Texas Dips by Susan McBride Page B

idea of Dill and Laura being in the same room when she wasn’t around. It was that conniving slut she didn’t trust. “Was he with anyone?” Jo Lynn ventured to ask.
    “Just some other jock.”
    Jo’s heartbeat slowed, and she told herself, See, nothing to worry about!
    “I’m on my way to Dill’s house now,” Jo Lynn told her friend, and took her hand off the wheel long enough to hit her right blinker, before she turned onto Dillon’s street. “I’m a little behind, so I’ve gotta run. I’ll catch up with you later so we can talk smack. Did you hear that one Rosebud already bit the dust? Though Bootsie wouldn’t tell me who.”
    “Omigod,” Camie breathed. “It must be Mindy Sue Mabry. My mom was yakking on her cell this morning about the Mabrys going bankrupt and Donatella Versace refusing to do Mindy’s dress on credit.”
    “Mindy Sue? Are you sure?” Jo couldn’t help feeling disappointed it wasn’t the Hostess Cupcake or one of her troll-like friends.
    “Like, ninety-nine percent sure, but I guess we’ll find out all the gory details tomorrow night at the first deb meeting, right?” Camie said, adding giddily, “God, I can’t wait!”
    “The first deb meeting, yes,” Jo said, playing down her own excitement when just uttering those words gave her an unbelievable rush. The Rosebud orientation was the officialstart to their debutante season, and it couldn’t begin soon enough for her.
    “So you’re going to Dill’s barbecue?” Cam asked, changing the subject. “Tell me if you see Avery, and take notes on anyone he talks to, pretty please? He didn’t ask me to go with him, the jerk. He told me he wanted to chill with his homies.”
    “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Jo promised, wondering what the hell was going on with Avery. Ever since Jo had caught him kissing Laura-the-Party-Crasher at Jo’s end-of-summer bash, he’d been acting more and more like a loose cannon, doing things his own way instead of following her advice. Jo just hoped it wouldn’t get to be a real problem, or she’d have to yank him back in line again.
    “At least Brody didn’t invite Trisha either,” Cam rambled on. “They probably just want to get drunk and act like idiots, which is why the coaches aren’t ever invited.” When Jo didn’t respond, Camie sighed. “So, anyhoo, we’ll be getting mani-pedis at the club spa while you frolic poolside with the football studs.”
    “Look, I gotta go. TTFN,” Jo Lynn drawled into her phone and hung up before Camie could say more. She dropped the cell into her lap.
    She glanced at the clock on her dash. It was fifteen past one, which she’d hardly consider late for a formal dinner, much less a casual barbecue. Besides, it wasn’t as if Dillon ever expected her to be on time, and Jo liked being unpredictable.
    For anybody else, being late might mean parking miles away, particularly since the line of cars in front of the Masterses’ house went from one end of the street to another. But Jo wasn’t just anybody .
    She smiled to herself, knowing that Dillon had arranged for her to park in the driveway. So, no worries about having to wedge her pristine Audi between any of the dusty vehicles perched on the grassy shoulder between the dip of the drainage ditch and the road, thank God.
    As Jo slowly rolled forward, she glimpsed Avery Dorman’s burnt-orange Corvette stuck between two oversized Chevy pickups with tires so huge they came up to her hips. One truck wore a bumper sticker that read: WARNING TAILGATERS! DRIVER CHEWS TOBACCO .
    Ugh, rednecks , Jo thought, and stuck out her tongue. Dillon might play football with a few cowboys, but he definitely isn’t one .
    Jo slid her Audi between the rows of cars on either side of the street, cruising toward the sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion at the cul-de-sac’s far end. Within a blink, she spotted a handmade sign tacked to a stepladder at the foot of the driveway, the only open space, as it looked like a