Maeve side-eyes him. “Laugh it up, junior. I’ve got snakes to re-home.”
Tristan’s laugh dies in his throat as Gloria grits her teeth. “Snakes aren’t the problem. It’s the goat.” She growls, legitgrowls. “Ate my softballs.”
“A criminal, just like his human father,” Maeve adds somberly, and I’m dying. Laughing so hard, the tears roll freely down my face. With each sip of wine, every story shared, friend after friend’s appearance at our ever-growing table, the stress of the last month undergoes an alchemical reaction, leaving me awash with a relief so palpable, I feel cool and light and free. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to be surrounded by my friends and laughter. While I often joke about the lack of available women in the Queer Mountaineers, being part of a group that doesn’t care about your sexual value or relationship potential, that loves you for the whole, complete person you are in this world, is its own special reward. I need to remember that.
Diego pokes me in the arm. “So are we gonna get the details of what went down with the hot butch vintner you’re totally over or what?” I shoot dagger eyes at Hannah, but she lifts her hands in innocence.
“I’ve told them nothing!” She crosses her heart, but she’s a few deep, too, so it looks more like she’s swatting a bee. “Promise.”
I lift my glass to the group. “I am a lady of discretion and grace,” I say, which is greeted with whoops and vehement pshaws. “But I was inspired to buy this baby after.” I flash my phone at the table, where the shipping notice of the giant rainbow dildo Harlow had is displayed. “It’s my special occasion dick. Double-headed forbothlesbians’ pleasure!”
“Um, Zoe?” Tristan says, eyes wide. “Laine just walked in.”
“Not gonna get me this time,Stan.” I snort and throw back the rest of my Grenache. At this point in the evening, my teeth are probably full-on vampire. “You can’t hold meormy giant rainbow dildo back! I just need to find anewsexy butch to use it on.”
“Zoe!” Hannah hisses, but I stand and lift my empty glass like I’m one of the Founding Fathers, and this here’s my statement of the union.
“I need someone withpizzazz.” I’ve never saidpizzazzin my life, but I say it now with gusto. “Someone with a less annoying face! But most importantly, someone who has a healthy relationship with constructive criticism!”
I wait for them to applaud, to whoop and support me like my fellow colonists should, but all I hear is a husky voice clearing behind me. Fromimmediatelybehind me.
“Room for two more?”
Tristan hides his face behind his hands while Teddy’s booming voice fills the wine bar, and my heart seizes in my chest. “There’s always room for more queers! What’re your names, pronouns, and thoughts on giant rainbow special occasion dicks?” He clearly doesn’t understand the catastrophe-in-the-making.
A soft hand lands on my arm, and I freeze as it slides away. “Harlow Benoit, she/they.” She smiles gently at me as she slips around the table. “Pro–giant rainbow dick, for regularandspecial occasions.”
“Oh,shit,” Teddy slurs, squinting at her, then Laine. “I did not see you there.” He runs a hand down his slack face, then leans over and checks my pulse. “Zoe, you still breathing, baby?”
Good question. I wish I wasn’t.
“I’m Laine Woods, also she/they, and I’mpro-not-being-an-oversharing-drunk-asshole,” she says pointedly at me. Laine pulls up two chairs for herself and Harlow and squeezes them in at the opposite corner, as far asshe can get from me. She salutes the rest of the table. “Nice to meet y’all. Thanks for the invite, Hannah.”
Someone whispers, “Is she the—”
“Yep,” someone else says quickly.
Hannah laughs nervously. “Sure thing!” The group murmurs subduedhellos to the newcomers as they send me covert glances, askingare you okay?with their eyes. I should be. I’m over the threesome with Harlow and Laine,I am. But God, did they have to hear me bragging about my new dildo and renouncing Laine’s annoying face? I watch soundlessly as Harlow and Laine take their seats, Laine draping her arm over the back of Harlow’s chair.
A wave of nausea crashes over me.
“So, Laine,” Maeve begins, then clears her throat. “Do you have any use for a goat?”
Laine frowns. “What kind of goat?”
“You said you weren’t coming!” The words blurt from my mouth before Maeve can begin her sales pitch.
“I changed my mind, boss. That okay?” Laine’s voice is strained, like she’s struggling to keep her contempt for me from erupting all over the table. She’s barely looked at me since last week when I instructed her to contact Jamal, but she shows up now? Why? To show off Harlow and shove how much she doesn’t like me in my face? Ruin the only other safe space I have?
I slide clumsily out of my chair, its legs screeching backward against the concrete floor. I can’t look at either of them. My sweatpants, my unwashed hair, my mom’s old T-shirt blotched with years upon years of wine stains and a rip in one armpit that I wear when I’m feeling down. I didn’t feel self-conscious before because my friends love me, but in the eye-melting sexual glow of Harlow and Laine, I feel like an old-timeystorybook villain, drawn extra ugly so everyone will hate me and feel justified in doing so. The unreasonable boss. The lonely spinster. The tacky, drunk kiss-and-tell.
I make it to the sidewalk before the tears come, eyes blurring as I confirm my ride home request.
The door slams behind me, then reopens just as fast. Footsteps hurry toward my turned back. I don’t know which of my friends is checking on me, but I really wish they wouldn’t. The mayor’s snubbing, the run-in with Rachel, and now humiliating myself in front of Harlow and Laine? I need to cry this instant, need the release like steam fighting to escape a kettle.
“What thehellis your problem?” Laine spits from behind me.
Fuck. There goes the comfort hug I would have grudgingly accepted. My back stiffens, and I don’t turn around. “There are many problems,” I reply, hating the tear-clogged sound of my voice. “To which are you referring?”
