Chapter 25 #2
Rory nods as she takes another sip of her wine. I pop a piece of shrimp in my mouth, chew, and swallow as another woman walks up to us, one that’s much more welcome.
“Stacey!” Rory sets her glass down and gives the newcomer a hug.
Once the two women extricate themselves from one another’s arms, I extend my hand. “Good to see you again, Stacey. Taking it easy with the tequila tonight?”
Stacey laughs, covering her mouth with one hand as she shakes mine with the other. “Oh God. After that bachelorette party, I’m never touching the stuff again. Please tell me people aren’t still talking about my drunk escapades.”
I lift my glass to my lips and take a sip. “Hey, it was funny in retrospect.”
She gives me a good-natured punch to my upper arm, her touch light. “Sure, in retrospect, maybe. Most things are. But now I’m a little old to call my friends to have them bail me out of jail.”
I crack a smile. “Fair enough. But we all enjoyed your singing.”
The station is small enough that the holding cell is right next to our workroom. The occasional times we have someone in their awaiting bail, we’re treated to their thoughts on life and their current predicament.
When I picked up Stacey that night, she’d had a lot of tequila. Obviously, it was enough to make her take her shirt off and run down High Street, but it was also enough for her to decide that 1:00 a.m. in lockup was a good time to start singing Disney songs at the top of her lungs.
Stacey cringes and moves her hand to cover her eyes. “Oh Lord. Please never bring that up again. I’m so sorry.”
Rory drapes an arm over Stacey’s shoulder. “I wish I’d been there. We’ll have to have some drunk escapades of our own.”
Drunk Rory seems like she’d be fun. Also a lot of trouble, potentially.
I toss back the end of my soda and hold my glass up. “I’m going to get a refill. Anyone need anything?”
Rory studies the plate, then she tips back her glass to drain the last of her wine. I’ve taken all but one of the pigs in a blanket, and the plate looks more than a little sparse.
“More of the little hot dog things, please. I’m assuming they’re good since you inhaled them.”
I snag the last one. “They’re delicious. I’ll bring you more.”
I pop it into my mouth as I head for the buffet.
The gym is decorated in a way that looks more professional than the student-made decorations I remember from prom or homecoming when we were kids.
There’s not a hint of crepe paper or construction paper; instead, twinkling lights wind their way around the perimeter of the room, intertwined with swaths of tulle.
The bleachers are pushed back against the walls, and with the bar in one corner and tall tables dotted across the floor, it’s transformed into a classy cocktail party.
Half of the room is cleared of furniture, leaving a space where a few couples sway together to the soft music.
I grab a plate from the stack and start to load up on the appetizers, piling the pigs in a blanket high.
“Hi there, Nate,” a woman says.
I hold back a groan. “Hi, Kaitlyn.”
She’s relentless. Aside from being Yvonne’s best friend, she’s a terror in her own right.
She spent most of high school trying to flirt with me, even though Rory and I were solid.
I thought I got rid of her when she met a man through a dating app and convinced him, somehow, to marry her, but the poor guy only lasted one year before he filed for divorce and hightailed it back to Denver.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” She leans against the table, her ass nearly dipping into the bowl of condiments near the edge.
I’ve been avoiding her, that’s why. She, like Yvonne, likes to flirt, and has trouble taking no for an answer.
“I’ve been busy.”
She looks down at her cleavage and adjusts her breasts in the least subtle display I’ve seen tonight. “Are you coming to The Church Bar after this? A few of us are headed there for some fun once the reunion wraps up.” She bats her false eyelashes at me. “I’d love to buy you a drink.”
“I’ll let you know.” I look past her to Rory, who’s still deep in conversation with Stacey.
A flash of movement headed their direction catches my eye.
Shit. Yvonne is beelining straight toward them.
“Excuse me.” I carry the towering plate and my empty glass back to where I left my girl. Getting a refill can wait.
Yvonne makes it to them before I do. As I near the group, I hear her voice—not the sultry one she uses with men, but the shrill tone she reserves for other women. Even her voice is two-faced. Two-voiced? Either way, it’s disingenuous at best.
“You’re living in Denver? God, it must be nice to only have to keep an apartment clean.
It’s such a headache trying to stay on top of cleaning my house because it’s just so big.
You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with that.
And it must be so nice to just show up for work!
As the boss of my own company, I have to do everything, and it’s so exhausting.
I mean, I’m sure you’re working hard, too.
Those dark circles under your eyes are a badge of honor. Am I right? And your—”
“More pigs in a blanket,” I say, pushing past Yvonne with my hip to set the plate on the table between Rory and Stacey. “Oh, Yvonne, I’m so sorry.” I mimic her insincere tone. “I didn’t mean to bump you. So sorry.”
Yvonne rolls her eyes, not even trying to hide her expression, as Rory grabs a pastry-covered sausage and shoves it into her mouth to hide her laughter.
“Anyway, you’ll have to excuse us.” I take another step to position myself firmly between Yvonne and Rory.
Yvonne disappears with a huff, and I turn to Rory and hold out my hand.
“Care to join me for a dance?”