Chapter Eight
Juniper
W e walked out of the bar, and I stumbled.
Locking one of her elbows in mine, Reenie cupped her free hand against her forehead and squinted against the sun as she glanced up and down the street. “I think I saw a cell phone store this way.”
“Seriously, Reenie? How are you not freaking out?” Suddenly nauseous as swamp-ass heat slammed into us, I put my hand over my eyes. “I didn’t even have my purse with me because you didn’t say we were going to an actual bar when you said celebratory drinks, but you did. They took your purse!”
“It’s okay. I didn’t have much in it, just some makeup. Besides, you have my spare house key, and I started using your trick anyway.” She pulled out her ID from her bra to show me. “See? Travel light, right?” She shoved the ID back and gave me a quick side hug. “Come on, this is still a good day. There’s that beer in my fridge that you brought over. We can get takeout. I’m not going to let this little setback ruin our last hours together.”
“Oh my God.” I had to ignore her last comment or I’d embarrass myself and cry. “Only you would see the glass half full side of things right now.” Because she was perpetually optimistic, and I wasn’t, and now I really needed to change the subject before I lost it. “And why isn’t it illegal to be this bright and humid out? Did you ever think about that?” It was hotter than the face of the sun. “Miami needs to come with a heat warning. My boobs and ass are sweating. You know I hate to sweat for no good reason. And okay, I admit it, I’m totally freaking out about our phones—in a dulled-by-too-many-Boobzooka-shots kind of way. All our personal information was on those phones. Aren’t you freaking out about that?” I stopped to hold my pointer finger and thumb out straight with like an inch between them. “Even a little?”
“It’s illegal to freak out when you have a credit card.” She tugged on my arm.
A sound that was the least ladylike sound in the history of sounds came out of my mouth. “Yeah, if that credit card isn’t maxed out. And don’t think I didn’t notice you com-pleeet-ly ignored the most important part of my last comment.” Wait. What did I say?
“We had six-digit passcodes. Those are virtually impossible to hack.” She shrugged. “Our information is safe.”
I stopped short and stared at my bestie. “Who are you, and what have you done with Reena Alano? Virtually impossible to hack? You’re like, pre-med, not Geek Squad. When did you get all—” I waved my hand through the muggy-as-shit air. “—techie?”
“I’m not techie. At least not any more than anyone else, and I’m not pre-med. Just pre-nursing.” She tugged on my arm to get us moving again. “Besides, everyone knows that about the six-digit passcodes.”
“I didn’t.” Not that it made me feel any better. “Who steals phones these days, anyways? That’s a new kind of desperate. My phone was used when I bought it.”
“Refurbished,” she corrected, glancing behind us, then stepping up her pace.
“What?” I looked back. “Where’s the fire? And oh my God, I just realized why you aren’t freaking out. You weren’t even answering your phone for, like, the past week. I had to come to your place three times to get you for coffee runs.” Wait. That was weird. Right? “That’s weird. And not like you.” And why were we now rushing to get new phones if she wasn’t even going to answer hers when I called?
“It’s not weird. It’s just what Charlie and I decided on. Kinda like not seeing the bride before the wedding, only we decided on not talking.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Anyway,” she rambled, ignoring my comment. “That’s what they call a gently used phone—refurbished. The store’s just up ahead, and no fire.” She glanced back again. “I just want to get out of the heat.”
I snorted. “You love the heat.”
“I do.” She smiled, but something was off.
I still grinned. Then I used my best singsong voice, but it came out throaty with an extra side of rasp like it always did. “You’re gettin’ married. You’re gonna say I doo-ooo .”
“You’re ridiculous.” She laughed with her shy giggle that men fell at her feet for, then blushed.
“Charlie is a lucky dude !” I pointed at her. “I think.” I frowned. “Why haven’t I met him, again?” Wow did alcohol mess with my short-term memory.
“Deployed.” Reenie pulled open the door to the store, and holy mother of blessed air conditioning hit us in the face.
“ Ohmigod . I’m a convert. Where do I sign up for the religion of freon?” I fanned my face, but I really wanted to lift my shirt and flap it. “Would it be rude to undress in here?”
“Nope.” My bestie gave me her saccharine smile. “Just illegal.”
“So, bad idea?” I flapped the hem of my tank top anyway—not that it had much stretch left to it. “Maybe if we need bail, Mr. McMoose Di—”
Reenie slapped a hand over my mouth as a customer service dude came at us.
His eyes only on her, he tipped half his lips up in a douchey player move. “What can I help you ladies with?”
Still with her hand over my mouth, Reena answered. “Two new iPhones, please.”
I protested.
Mister Douchey winked. “Sure. What colors?”
Reenie held a finger up to him. “One second.” She turned toward me. “This is my treat. We’re getting new phones. You’re not going to say no, and you’re going to pick out what color you want.” Her brows furrowed. “And a new number—if you want one. Something fun or easy to remember. Or they can just download your old number from the cloud. Nod if you understand.”
Getting even more drunk from my own eighty-proof breath forced against my mouth, I shoved her hand away. “No, you are not going to—”
Her hand came back, but this time she had a very nursey look on her face, and she used much more force. “You’re not going to change my mind on this. Besides, we don’t have much time. I have to leave soon, and I don’t want to waste time on an argument.”
Instant tears welled and marched to the very edge of no takebacks.
“Uh-uh. Nope.” My bestie waggled her finger. “No crying.” Her own eyes misted, but then she cleared her throat and dropped her hand. “Tell the guy what color.”
Tears fell down my face, and I glanced at Mr. Douchey. “Purple.”
“We have Ultramarine. It’s sort of like a light purple color.”
I nodded, then sniveled and was assaulted by his even douchier cologne.
Stepping back from me, he looked at my bestie who was leaving for two whole weeks and raised an eyebrow. Just one. “And for you?”
“Whatever you have in stock is fine.” She handed him her credit card.
Suddenly looking distressed, Douchey took her card. “Pink? Gold? Teal? We have all the colors in stock. Are you opening new accounts? Upgrading?”
“The color doesn’t matter, but we’re really in a hurry. Can you please just go get two phones?”
“Ah, sure. No problem.” He turned, but his cloud of player cologne stayed.
I called after him. “Get her a gold one.” Reenie deserved all the gold things.
“Gotcha.” Douchey finger saluted. “Be right back.”
I looked at my bestie and got drunk sad, which was like sad on steroids. “I’m going to miss you.” I wasn’t a hugger, especially not in public, but I thought about it.
Reenie nudged me with her shoulder. “You’ll be happy to have a break.”
Appalled, I leaned back. “What? Why would you say that?” She was the one person I’d never gotten sick of, and that was saying a lot. Mostly, it spoke volumes for her putting up with me. “I’m going to miss the hell out of you. Two weeks is, like, forever .”
Pulling her lips between her teeth, something she did every time she was nervous, she looked around the store.
I was four fricking sheets, but I wasn’t so hammered that I didn’t catch her anxiety. “Okay, now you have to tell me what’s really going on. You’re acting weird. And I’m not going to say it, because I am one-hundred percent Team Reena, but weird is a complete understatement for this whole….” I waved my hand around her, the store, the whole damn day. “This situation.”
Inhaling, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and held it with both hands. “Okay. I don’t want you to freak out, but it’s going to be more than two weeks.”
I grinned. “Extended honeymoons are the best.” I leaned in. “ In Fiji ,” I whispered too loudly.
“Bali.”
“What?”
“The island in Indonesia.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Fiji is an island in the South Pacific Ocean.”
I could’ve sworn she’d told me Fiji. Or the Bahamas. “You’re going to have fun wherever you go. And I’m so happy for you,” I added—because I was. Legit happy. Reena deserved to be with someone who loved her and took her to exotic islands. “So, what, three weeks? A month? Oh my God, is McHorse loaded? You didn’t tell me your soon-to-be hubby is rich.”
“He’s not. And I have to tell you something.” She took a quick, deep breath, then blurted it out. “I’m not exactly coming back after the wedd—honeymoon.”
Panic set in faster than my heart sinking to my stomach. “Wait.” Wait, wait, wait . “What do you mean you’re not coming back after?”
“I, ah, signed up for IVHQ?” Then her words came out even faster. “It’s a medical volunteer program. They’re really great, and I’m going to Ghana for twenty-four weeks, and maybe Tanzania after that for another twenty-four weeks. And there may not be any Wi-Fi near where I am, and I won’t have any cell service either.”
Shock added to my panic. “But you’re getting married, like, tomorrow.” Or whatever the time difference would be when she got to Fiji—Bahamas, Bali, wherever.
She looked down and picked at the frayed edge of her cutoff shorts. “Well, Charlie will still be deployed.”
It hit me like a slap in the face.
She was lying. About all of it.
Suddenly more sober than drunk, I said what I knew with absolute certainty. “Forward deployed service members don’t get two weeks off to go on a honeymoon.”
She didn’t have time to come up with another lie.
Douchey and his cologne returned. “Okay, ladies. Here we go.” He set two boxes on a standing-height table near us. “One new Ultramarine iPhone, and one in Desert Titanium.” He looked at Reenie. “Do you have an account? Are we porting old numbers over?”
“Our phones were stolen,” I snapped, trying to process the bomb of lies Reena had just dropped.
Douchey messed with a tablet. “Do you have the replacement coverage on your account?”
We both said, “No.”
“Okay. No problem. I’ll just need your driver’s licenses and your numb—”
“We’re getting new numbers,” Reenie announced with absolute authority.
Before I could protest or say she was the only one with ID, the door to the store opened, and a blond god walked in.
Cutting through the distance between us and the front of the store with a lethal stride, his voice hit even deeper and quieter than I expected. “Put their phones on my account.” Placing a black credit card and an ID on the table, he rattled off a number as my best friend went stiff with fear.