Beautiful Entourage by E. L. Todd

turned away like she’d been slapped in the face.
    I held her hand under the table and tried to comfort her. It was ridiculous she had to put up with this. Of the three of them, she was the most responsible and logical one. “Think about that sundae we’re going to get,” I whispered in her ear.
    Somehow, she found the strength to smile. “With a cherry on top.”
    I smiled at her, glad she didn’t let her woes weigh her down. “I’ll give you mine so you’ll have two.”
    “You practically just gave me your soul.”
    “Well, make sure you enjoy it.”
    She squeezed my hand. “Oh, I will.”
    ***
    She and I left the fundraiser the moment they announced the last winner of the silent auction. Without saying goodbye to her father or spitting on her brother, which was an impressive feat, we slipped out and reached the crowded sidewalk.
    “Geez, that was torture.” She tucked her clutch under her arm and walked beside me, keeping her grace despite the sky-high heels. Her shoulders were back and her spine was perfectly straight. She turned heads as she walked.
    “Good thing I got paid for it,” I said as I nudged her in the side playfully.
    She laughed then nudged me back. “Well, you got ripped off.”
    “It wasn’t so bad,” I said. “There was a full bar, dinner, and I got to spend the night with a beautiful woman.”
    She gave me a slow smile then faced forward. “You’re sweet.”
    “And not just because I’m paid to be sweet.”
    “You wouldn’t tell me otherwise even if it were true.”
    “No, probably not,” I said.
    We entered a small ice cream parlor a few blocks away then approached the glass that protected the ice cream from coughs and sneezes.
    She touched my arm gently then leaned toward my ear, like she was going to share a secret with me. “You know those scenes on TV when the mother or father goes to the room where they keep all the babies in the hospital after they’re born, and they stare in amazement at how beautiful their child is?”
    “Yeah.” I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this.
    “That’s how I feel every time I get ice cream.” She tapped the glass with her fingers then gave me a smile that clearly said she wasn’t ashamed.
    I chuckled. “Were you obese as a child?”
    “No. Somehow, I learned restraint.”
    “Well, don’t hold back tonight.”
    “I won’t,” she said. “After that terrible evening, I need a monster size. Alcohol fixes most people. But my poison is ice cream.”
    “At least it’s less detrimental than alcohol.”
    “What’s your poison?” she asked.
    I put my hands in my pockets as I thought of a response. “Running.”
    She stared at me blankly. “Running?”
    “Whenever I’m really upset, I’ll go for a long run. The endorphins you release during intense physical activity minimize pain.”
    She rolled her eyes then looked away. “Lame…”
    “How is that lame?”
    “A poison is something you abuse, something you shouldn’t use as a crutch. Your poison is healthy, so it’s lame.”
    “I never thought doing the smart thing would make me lame.”
    “Well, it does.”
    “Why don’t you try it sometime?” I asked.
    She gave me that look that clearly said, “You’re crazy.”
    “What?” I asked with a laugh. “I can tell you work out.”
    “I run,” she said. “But I have to force myself to go. And for a full hour before that I try to make excuses to get out of it. Like, I have to do the dishes. I have to make the grocery list. A nap doesn’t sound bad… ”
    I tried not to laugh. “For what it’s worth, I’m not judging you.”
    “Oh, I feel so much better now,” she said sarcastically.
    I laughed even though I didn’t want to. When she was away from the stress of her dysfunctional family, she was really cool. She made me laugh more times than I could count.
    The guy behind the counter approached her. “What can I get you?”
    Her eyes lit up like a child. “Monster sundae with rocky road and