I lift my glass, signaling the lame bartender who hasn’t even offered to listen to my problems. He brings a round of overly strong drinks, assuming my friends also want to get drunk.
Michelle wrinkles her nose at it but Leona tosses hers back like it’s a shot. I realize then it is. That’s why it’s so miserable to sip. I shoot mine back and grimace. “Gross.”
“You don’t like liquid cocaine?” Leona asks softly.
I don’t know what she means, and nearly look behind me to see if she’s talking to someone else.
“The drink is called Liquid Cocaine. It’s a couple of types of schnapps and something else. It’s a shot.” Michelle rolls her eyes again and shoots it back calmly.
“Oh, no. I’m not a fan. I told him to bring me something strong and he did. He said it was trendy with the ladies.”
Leona’s eyes glisten as she nudges Michelle. “It’s my favorite. It makes her sick, though. Drank too many. And Jägerbombs too.”
I know that drink, and it makes me cringe with Michelle, who slaps down cash and nods, getting up quickly. “Let’s do this.” She walks out, not even checking to see if she’s left enough money. I scramble to keep up and follow her out the door. The weird guy with the grin waves, but I try to ignore him.
When I get to the sidewalk I realize where we are going—it’s the bar across the street, the one we went to last time. I still cringe when I pass it. The feel of getting sick haunts me.
She walks right in, nodding at the bouncer. It’s early and there is no line, not yet. The music is playing already, though, when we get inside. The lights are flashing too, lighting up the near-empty bar. I almost stop and walk back out, but Leona laughs at my face. “It’s going to fill up in like half an hour. Line around the block. If we come now there’s no cover and we get a booth.” These are things I would know if I didn’t spend my weekends with a psychotic douche.
We sit at a booth, and immediately a couple of servers are there. They’re clearly desperate for someone to talk to. Michelle orders three beers, just assuming I want beer. I don’t care, but the option to have water might have been nice. It’s then that I realize I’m downtown with the two girls I had to assume hated me, all because I wanted to change rooms. But here, in the flashing lights and weird smells, they don’t seem bad at all. I send Angie a text, telling her where I am. The message finally delivers. I get a read receipt but she doesn’t answer.
Half an hour later, it’s just like Leona said it would be. The bar is shoulder to shoulder, and everyone is dancing. It’s only ten thirty but the place is crowded. We dance, meeting up with a couple of girls from class. We drink and we laugh. The night isn’t at all how I expected it to turn out. When the fourth beer lands in my stomach with a thud, I know I’ve had too much. I give Michelle a look and nod toward the door. “I need air and maybe a hot dog from out front.”
She laughs. “Me too. Let’s get a stamp so they let us back in. They have a spot for people who need some air, over this way.” She says something to Leona and leaves with me following. A crabby-looking girl gives us a stamp, and we mosey out into the cool night air. It’s damp, because apparently that’s the only season we are getting this year. Michelle reaches a ten-dollar bill across some ropes to the hot-dog guy and gets us both one. I slump into the patio furniture and take the hot dog. It’s awkward with just the two of us. “I’m sorry about the cat,” I say, not comfortable at all.
“No, I am. I get it. Being in the city and having no friends is tough. I should have been nicer. I was pissed when they roomed us together. I had specifically asked for one of my friends.”
I nod, taking the most delicious bite of food I have ever had. I close my eyes and moan into it. When I look at her she seems angry or annoyed, but when she speaks again I understand why. “I thought you and that girl you’re roomed with wanted to switch because you guys knew me and Leona were lesbians.”
I desperately swallow, wishing I could get it all down faster to explain. I shake my head aggressively. “Not at—all.” I nearly die, but I manage to get it out. I take a deep breath as the huge lump painfully makes its way into my esophagus. “I didn’t know. I actually didn’t know until you two walked into the bar.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“I swear, I thought you hated me because of the cat. I felt awful.”
She rolls her eyes. “So your mom snuck a cat in the room, and you think I’m that crazy that I can’t adapt?”