One More Weekend (Sapphics in the City #5)

5. Sy

5

SY

The warm night had made me sweaty, even the light breeze off the East River wasn’t breaking through the towering buildings in Chinatown.

It was a quick walk from our apartment down to Winnie’s Bar, which was one of many reasons why it had become our usual karaoke location.

As we approached the unsuspecting doorway, propped open to remind pedestrians that it was in fact the doorway they were looking for, Jenna raced ahead of me and got a start on the stairs. “I’ll put our song in if you get the drinks.”

“Deal.” I smiled up at her as she took each step. Trying to keep my eyes to myself, I looked down at my feet, the fluorescent lights of the hallway casting a bluish hue on everything. But I couldn’t stop myself from peeing at Jenna’s ass in her trousers. My chest tightened as I shook my head.

You don’t want to go down that road. I remind myself

She was my best friend, my roommate, my lifeline. If we ever took it there, there wouldn’t ever be a way to recover.

Besides we’d agreed years ago that friendship was the best idea for us.

Before I could fall deeper into the thought, Jenna tossed open the door at the top of the stairs, someone’s scream-singing voice leaking into the stairwell. Jenna held it open for me until the handle was in my hand. Then she zipped ahead to the sheet of paper at the end of the bar.

I shoved my hands into my jeans as I approached the bartender with a smile. “Hey, dude.”

Bennie turned around from the register and nodded. “What’s up, Sy? Back so soon?”

“Yep,” I looked over at Jenna who was throwing our names onto the list. If I knew anything about her, she was signing me up for a song I didn’t know just to mess with me. “Jenna had a rough day so we’re letting off some steam.”

Without needing instructions, Bennie grabbed two glasses and got to work on our usual orders. “I see, well it’s just you guys and this group of NYU sophomores so go crazy.”

I looked down the bar to the laughing gaggle of college kids at a booth near the “stage” – really just a glorified platform of plywood and black spray paint. Giggling and dancing, they were surrounded by empty glasses.

Dive bars like this were perfect for us in college. The bartenders knew we were under age but we presented a decent enough fake ID for them to let us in. We were loud but we drank a lot on quiet nights. Mutually beneficial it seemed.

Bennie placed two glasses down on the wood bar and shook her head. “Remember when you were that young?”

Rolling my eyes, I nodded. “Hardly but it’s probably better that way.”

Of course I remembered plenty, mostly the nights out with Jenna. The memory of our first night here was burned into my brain like it was my birthday. It was also the night our tradition was born.

Excited, Jenna – who hardly knew me as we’d met just a few days earlier during our first week of college – turned to me and grabbed my arm. “Promise me we’ll come back every week?”

I thought she was kidding, so I agreed. But the next week, I got a DM asking what time we should meet up.

And it had been like that ever since.

Passing my card across the bar, I took the drinks into my hands and started moving toward our usual booth. “Thanks, Bennie.”

When I rounded the corner of the bar, there she was. Leaning forward with her chin in the palm of her hands as she let her elbow rest on the table in front of her, Jenna mouthed along to the singing sophomore.

It was like she was encouraging them to go on with each shared word.

“Ta-dah,” I interrupted her as I set down her Moscow Mule in the cheap, see-through plastic cup.

Clapping her hands together, Jenna bounced in the booth. “Yay! Thank you.”

My forehead wrinkled at her excitement. No one would have guessed the day she’d had with this attitude. Apparently, a nap and this was all she needed.

I slid into the booth next to her, taking my place and taking a sip of my tequila soda.

“I put our songs in.” Jenna bit her lip as she leaned back into the red leather of the booth.

“Thanks,” I winked. “You left song spaces between?”

With a nod, Jenna looked over to the group across from us. “Yeah, they’ve already filled the vacancies.”

As soon as the singer on stage was done, Jenna tapped my knee. “We’re up.”

I took another pull from my cup, needing as much courage as possible. When we started coming here, I hated it. Jenna was the extrovert, but she was an expert in peer pressure. It wasn’t long before she’d pressured me into starting the night with a duet every week.

At the time, she told me it was more fun for her. But I knew that it was really her way of making sure I was comfortable every week. And it worked like a charm every time.

Walking up to the stage, I grabbed the second mic from the curtained window sill behind the platform and flipped it on.

As we took our positions, the familiar, jazzy first beats of “You’re The One That I Want” started. I rolled my eyes, it was one of two songs that we kept as standards on our duet rotation.

Jenna squealed and ran up to the stage, grabbing the mic just in time to start the song with John Travolta’s part. “I got chillllsssss, they’re multiplying…”

Taking one final swig of my tequila soda, I set my drink on the same window that I grabbed the mic from. I raised the microphone to my mouth and started Olivia Newton-John's rebuttal. “You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man.”

No matter how many times we sang it, the line always made me laugh – just the idea that either of us would need a man making me giggle.

“And my heart is set on you…” I turn toward Jenna, bringing on the high school theatrics and pointing at her.

Looking over at her, Jenna danced along to my lines with a goofy, tipsy smile plastered on her lips.

As the instrumental picked up, she lifted the mic and joined in. “You’re the one that I want.”

We carried through like that, dancing between our individual lines and harmonizing each line just right. If I wasn’t wrong, we could have done this number with earplugs in and our eyes closed.

But looking over at Jenna, I couldn’t imagine not doing this every single week. All I could do was hope that this was all some sick joke, that her idea to leave the city was just for the laughs.

Because if it wasn’t, I had no idea what I would do.