“Aw! Where’d that shlock go?” Lindsey slammed her drink on the bar. It spilled. “Lighten up, Mandy! Maybe you need a little dick in you, sloosen you up!”
That was the last thing I needed. “Maybe we ought to get a little coffee in you?”
“You’re not even drinking!”
“I’m driving us tonight, remember?”
Lindsey tried to blow a raspberry at me. She forgot to swallow the margarita first. The drink went everywhere, and I stopped her before she licked it off the bar.
I had drunk-sat my sister before, but she’d never gotten this bad. Lindsey giggled, whined, and nearly wet herself like a toddler.
Well, hell, if this was what having a baby was like, I could handle it. Especially since babies usually didn’t run up ridiculous bar tabs.
“You’re. No. Fun.” Lindsey pointed at me. “That’s what you are. No fun. No funny funny fanny.” She waved me close. “Know what’s fun?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Fucking a curved cock.” She laughed a little too loud. “Don’t tell Bryce!”
“Oh, believe me.” I ordered another ginger ale. “No one is going to know what happened tonight.”
I certainly wasn’t telling a soul about the nightmare that was Lindsey’s first of three bachelorette parties.
No one would know how Lindsey insulted all of Taiwan during our mani/pedis.
Nor would I tell the story of the limo’s broken window and combustible two liter bottle of soda.
And I hoped I could get the video off YouTube of Lindsey performing karaoke on the restaurant’s hibachi. It was a good Beyoncé impression until they turned on the grill.
My sister never handled alcohol well. She took criticism of her drinking habits worse. My newest mission was forcing her to drink water before her head exploded, and we weren’t even in phase two of the bachelorette party.
Because Lindsey’s party wasn’t just one night.
Oh no.
This was only the beginning.
“If we want to get to the cabin, we should head out now.” I guided the bottle of water to her lips. She cheered, splashed, and spilled on me. At least she was excited about the weekend excursion to Bryce’s family’s lake house. “It’s a long trip—”
“God, Mandy. Can’t you just relax for once?” Lindsey belched, and that did nothing for the nausea swirling in my stomach. “You’re all…go here, go there, eat your noodles, go to the cabin, don’t steal the traffic cone, stop groping the policeman—”
“It’s your schedule,” I said. “You said to stick to the itinerary, no matter how many bars we crawled.”
“But I wanna dance!”
Lindsey attempted to take off her bra before removing her shirt. The shoulder strap snapped off, and she collapsed in a fit of giggles. She headed for her panties instead.
Of course, in classic Lindsey style, those were lost somewhere between the mani/pedis and dinner.
Lindsey whipped half of her bra out of her sleeve and over her head. The other half tangled around the piercings she still had to hide from Mom.
“Someone start the music!” She howled.
The music was already blaring. I covered my eyes as my sister lifted her skirt and flashed the bar.
Oh sweet Mary and Joseph—
Now was not the time of the month for her to be expressing herself!
The tampon string was just the fuse that would blow this party from drunken fun to jail time.
I grabbed Lindsey and dove over her skirt before the world saw everything she was giving away for the wedding.
“Okay, we’re leaving for the cabin now. We need our rest, right?” I shook Lindsey to gain her attention. She toppled onto the bar. “The cabin’s gonna be just as fun. We’ll get to work on the wedding dances.”
“Dances!” Lindsey slouched a bit. “Can’t wait to nae nae.”
I could. Oh, Lord, what I wouldn’t do to avoid the rest of the weekend. But we only had six weeks until the wedding, and Lindsey’s choreographed dance routines didn’t learn themselves.
The only thing that horrified me more than an unplanned pregnancy was shimmying onto the dance floor with my fellow bridesmaids just to reveal that I was the only black woman in the tristate area with no rhythm. At least it was only my closest friends and the entirety of my family that would witness this disaster.
And Nate.
Of course Nate would see me awkward, jerky, and combusting in shame. Then again…it wouldn’t be much different from when I usually spoke to him, except this time I was expected to shake my booty.
I couldn’t even hand jive, and Lindsey sure as hell expected more than the twist. I was boned.