1 - LARA
I look at myself in the mirror and see nothing but a loser staring back, makeup smeared.
The light blue blouse, the blazer, and the dress pants all wrinkled and splattered with wine.
I’m still wearing the insulated safety boots—I was supposed to visit the construction site after the meeting, which never happened.
What happened instead was catching them in the act.
He didn’t see me. She did. My hair, still pulled back, is a disheveled mess from all the tugging. Depressing.
The doorbell rings. I completely ignore it.
Before I can chase after him and debase myself even more, I walk through the apartment toward the bathroom, tearing off my shoes and clothes along the way.
I turn on the shower and throw myself under the cold water.
My skin instantly prickles with goosebumps, reminding me of how it used to feel when he was beside me, or behind me, warming me up.
I punch the wall in anger, trying to block out the memories. Bastard!
“Lara!”
I’m startled by Barbs’s scolding shout. I look in disbelief at my friend standing in the bathroom doorway, then put my head back under the stream of water.
“You saw the message—why didn’t you respond?” I hear her voice through the water filling my ears. “What happened to you?” I catch a note of concern beneath her own pain. “Lara?!”
“I put Bront? in the laundry room and swept the shards into a corner by the wall, but I think that wine’s going to leave stains...” Priscila has also arrived at my place, and she couldn’t be more right. “What’s wrong with her?” Now the two of them are discussing my state.
I stay motionless, head down, eyes closed, body cold...
“Carlos was with Cristina.”
I say, still not moving, the sound of my own voice muffled by the wet hair covering my ears. I hear them both say “what?” in unison. I sigh, unable to accept it.
“Two Cs...” A weak laugh escapes me.
“Two assholes, you mean.”
Priscila and her foul mouth. Anyone who knows her would never imagine she’s one of the youngest and best pilots in the country.
The result of tons of studying, plus thousands of hours on those realistic flight simulators.
The girl hooked up with plenty of guys that way, between plays, pauses, and moans that punctuated the action. She even created her own game.
I tried to distance myself from my crazy family and ended up parachuting into this friendship trio with two women who could easily pass as my parents’ daughters.
Not me. I never felt like I belonged in that place.
With those people. I don’t even know how I managed not to fail a grade in school, since every night was loud music, conversations, idiotic laughter mixed with alcohol and drugs.
They acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.
As soon as I could, I took the college entrance exam, studied like my life depended on it, passed, and moved out.
I also switched majors. I applied for law, ended up in electrical engineering.
I’m one of the best professionals in the capital, along with Bárbara, a civil engineer.
And she’s the one who comes toward me, opens the glass shower door, turns off the water, and wraps me in a towel.
“Come on, sweetheart, you can’t stay in there forever.” She always goes along with Priscila’s wild ideas, but she’s also the most sensitive of the trio.
I met them both in college, same campus, different majors.
We shared a place during undergrad, then decided each of us needed our own space, a certain individuality, if you know what I mean.
There’s nothing we don’t know about each other.
They’re my friends, my sisters, or as Pri loves to say, “That’s my girl! ”
I flinch at their touch as they guide me to the bedroom and sit me down on the bed. I knew it—deep down I knew he was no good. You know how it is: out of sight, out of mind. But this time my eyes saw. Saw everything.
“Larinha, lose the long face!” Bárbara’s voice is trembling.
“Sorry, girls, you too...”
“Yes, all three of us got kicked to the curb—that’s a fact—but that doesn’t mean we’re going to prove them right.” Pri claps her hands in the air.
I won’t kill the mood by telling them that I’m the one who kicked that cheating scumbag to the curb. As far as he was concerned, we were still together while the jerk was sleeping around.
“I don’t want anyone crying over those bastards.” Pri opens my closet, pulls out a dress and a pair of heels, and sets them in front of me. “We’re going out, because we’re way better than them!”
I let my body fall onto the mattress, clutching the towel.
What I really want is to bash his head in.
I should have cheated on him, just like he did to me.
For better or worse, I’m not like that. Damn it!
Cheating isn’t my thing. If there was one good thing, one of the rare good things, I learned from my family, it’s that loyalty is everything.
My father used to say: loyalty to the Borbóns!
Of course, he was wasted, high as a kite and yelling in the street, most of the time.
“Sorry, beauties, I’m really not in the mood...”
“Lara! I need a taste of freedom, not to wallow in misery with you two, damn it!”
Bárbara tries to convince Priscila to leave me alone. Pri huffs, turns around, digs through my closet some more, and tosses out a spaghetti-strap dress—black with sparkle, short, with a pretty generous neckline. Barbs stifles a laugh. She knows exactly where this is headed, just like I do.
The moment Pri threatens to pick something else—and I know it’ll be way worse, scandalously revealing—I jump up and start getting ready in a hurry.
Yes, buried at the back of my closet are some pieces that crazy woman gave me and insists I keep, not that I’d ever actually wear them.
Okay, I did wear one once, to a costume party.
It was mortifying. She laughed herself silly at my misery.
By the end, all three of us were cracking up.
Priscila is dead set on going all out tonight.
She’s wearing a daring strapless number that leaves her shoulders and décolletage bare, her long legs on full display, a slit up the thigh showing even more skin, her butt lifted by six-inch heels.
She’s spritzed her black bob with a subtle shimmer that matches her knockout makeup.
Bárbara grabs one of the dresses from the back of my closet—yes, one of those, from the collection they call EOP: Engolir O Pau—Swallow the Cock. Yeah, you read that right.
We’re both plus size and proud of it, so we swap and borrow clothes all the time.
The dress is moss green, hugging her curves beautifully before flowing loose at the skirt, with a strategic slit at the thigh.
Her curly brown hair hangs free with just a section pinned back for a touch of elegance.
Her makeup makes those bright green eyes pop.
If I were a lesbian or bi, I’d definitely hit that.
For a few hours at least, she’ll definitely forget that a certain asshole ever existed in her life. Well, maybe she’ll find another one—who knows. Maybe all three of us will forget our latest assholes and find new ones to fill the holes. I mean, the wounds.
I look at myself in the mirror and can hardly believe it. No one would guess I’m falling apart inside. Pri really outdid herself on my makeup too.
That’s it—the eyes have seen, the heart has felt, and now the mind will act. Time for a fresh start!
Cecil’s is especially packed tonight. I sit down right away, propping my elbows on the bar while Pri orders three shots.
She knows I prefer sweeter drinks, but she’s determined to get wasted and drag us down with her.
I don’t even complain—I’m already in hell anyway, so bring on the devil so I can give him a big hug and thank him for the mess he got me into. Wow, I’m being so dramatic!
I throw back the shot, tipping my head back, and hear Priscila’s high-pitched squeal as she throws her arms up.
Bárbara heads to the dance floor, swaying her hips for anyone who wants to watch—and anyone who doesn’t.
Pri pulls me along, whispering: no self-pity, we’re better than them.
She tells me to scream right there on the dance floor.
Soon all three of us crazy girls are yelling that we’re better and we deserve the best as we let it all out on the dance floor.
After a few songs, I head back to my stool and my drinks, grinning from ear to ear, radiating happiness. I watch my friends out there. It hits me how lucky I am. Men come and go, but true friends... those are hard to find, and even harder to keep.
Priscila is already showing off for a much older guy, her hair swinging side to side against her neck, and Bárbara is shaking her curvy body, those long curls cascading down—so sexy! No wonder all eyes are glued to them.
Sitting at the bar, I barely notice time passing, my gaze lost in the mirror behind the bottles.
My reflection stares back at me—fragmented, doubled, flickering with color from the bottles, the hanging glasses, and the club lights—when the two of them sneak up behind me, interrupting my scattered thoughts.
“Hey!” Priscila starts. “You see those guys over there?” She points to the other side—I can’t make out anyone specific. “They’re at a bachelor party and they invited us to celebrate with them,” she says, all excited.
I swivel around on my seat, ready to get out of there muttering that they’ve lost their minds. Instead, I tug Pri’s dress back up. Flashing a boob in a club is a total disaster, for God’s sake!
“Oh, Lara, come on, pleaseee...” Bárbara tugs at my arm, whining. She knows it works—that pleading face, like someone begging for immediate rescue.
“Look, you’re just as messed up as we are, and you’ve been sitting here alone way too long,” Pri states the obvious. “It’s time to have some fun with us, and we won’t take no for an answer!” she declares emphatically.