Sexy Jerk(50)

Shivering, we push our way inside and check our coats. The pink hue of light casting on the white leather is new. It used to be purple. Still, the place is the same. We head for the stairs and pass a bunch of giggly girls here for a bachelorette party.

I point to them. "They remind me of us during your bachelorette party."

She yells in my ear, and points to the girl with the tiara on her head. "Except I was pregnant and sober, unlike her."

I laugh. "That's so true."

Upstairs, the dance floor is less crowded. There's a lounge to the left, and the long, white leather sofas are mostly empty.

"Let's get a drink," Fiona says, heading toward the bar.

I follow her, looking around at how much things up here have changed compared to downstairs. It's nicer than it used to be.



       
         
       
        

At the bar, Fiona orders two shots of tequila and two dirty martinis. "The dirtier, the better," she calls to the bartender.

He turns around and gives her a wink. She always turned heads everywhere she goes, and married or not, she still does.

I shake my head. "Always the wild one."

"Not anymore. I don't get out that much, I might as well live it up. Ethan's the designated caregiver, so I might as well get drunk."

"Is that like a designated driver?"

The bartender sets the two shots down. "Yes, except he's on Max duty tonight and in the morning."

I lick my wrist and salt it. "How'd you swing that?"

She licks her wrist and salts it. "I promised him sex tonight and in the morning anyway he wanted it."

I clink her glass. "I like your way of thinking. Here's to having fun."

She clinks back and shoots the shot, sets it down, and orders another.

Three shots and a drink later, we are both feeling more than a little tipsy.

"Don't look now," she whispers, "but the guy at the end of the bar is staring at you. And he's really cute."

"Fi, I have some-" I start to say.

Just then the DJ starts to spin "Umbrella" by Rihanna. It was our theme song as teens, and we both look at each other in remembrance. I'd say I was going to her house to sleep over, but the truth was her parents had left her home that summer while they went to the commune, so we went out and hit the clubs.

"Let's dance," Fiona says grabbing my hand. "You can flirt with that guy later. Sometimes it's good to play hard to get. Besides, once he sees the way you move on the dance floor, he won't be able to keep his eyes off you."

To say anything would just be a waste of breath.

We make our way out to the dance floor and start to move. Bouncing and wiggling, hips shaking, it feels just like old times. We know how to dirty dance. We've done a lot of it. It isn't long before people start watching us. I think that used to be the best part of going out to clubs with Fiona. Wondering what the men who stared at the two of us dancing and having fun were thinking. Except now, as men surround us and explode into a frenzy of catcalls, I didn't think it was fun anymore. By the look on Fiona's face, neither does she.

As soon as the song ends, she says, "Come on." She takes my hand. "Let's go sit down."

Over on the leather sofa, she sits on the end and I sit beside her. She attempts to wave the waitress down, but she's unsuccessful. Sighing, she pulls her phone out of her small purse.

I can see the text messages from Ethan lighting up her screen, and I cover them with my hand. "Fiona, I have something to tell you." 

She glances up. "What?"

"Nick and I are together," I blurt out.

She fixes me with her stare, and then bursts out in laugher. "You and Nick? Are you joking? You despise him. You call him Ethan's jerky friend."

I move my hand away from her screen. "I did think he was a jerk, but that was before I got to know him."

She sets her phone down on the table in front of us without looking at it. "And what? Now you think he's a sexy jerk?"

"Well yes," I tell her, "No, I mean I don't he's a jerk anymore. Now I like him."

Her hands go up rather animatedly. "Whoa, back up. Did you two hook up while you were babysitting Max?"

Uneasiness moves through me. "Yes, we did, but only after Max was in bed. I swear."

She stares at me dumbfounded. "Please tell me you didn't do anything in my bed."

I cross my fingers across my heart. "I swear we didn't. We stayed in the spare room."

She's a little bit of a germ-a-phobe.

"Oh thank fuck," she says, dragging her hand dramatically across her forehead and leaning back against the couch. The look in her eyes tells me she's processing everything. The alcohol making her a little slow to the draw.