“Get home safe, Firecracker.” It’s my typical farewell when she departs at the end of a long day. Tonight, it strikes me how much I actually mean it.
Gravel crunches beneath her feet as she takes two steps backward. On the third, she turns, walking into the bar. The door closes with a click of finality, locking me outside.
18
Alice
“Areyou sure you don’t want us to drive you home?”
The gentle rocking motion of Whitney’s hands on my shoulders nearly makes me nauseous.
I wave her off with the piece of soft pretzel in my hand and pop that warm morsel in my mouth. The dose of late-night carbs will hopefully help me ease the morning low after a night of drinking. “I’m fine.” The dry bread sticks in my throat. I swallow hard. “You guys live way out of the way.”
“Nothing is really out of the way in Fairview Valley,” she argues.
“It is when your house is in the sticks.”
Most of the Powells live away from the center of town. Really the closest ride would have been Sutton, but he left hours ago. The fact he didn’t turn up after I sent him on his way shocked me. His stubborn demeanor normally wins out. He must really be sorry. Not that he has much to be sorry for. A simple apology is sufficient for the way he acted earlier this week, and though I haven’t told him as much, I forgive him.
“It doesn’t feel right sending you home in a ridesh-sh-share,” she yawns.
“Whitney, please. We’re both so tired.” Fighting her contagious yawn, I blink heavily at my best friend. “I’m a grown woman. Just let me find my way home in peace.”
She purses her lips. “Fine. But I don’t like it. You better text me as soon as you’re home, or I’m sending Jack over there.”
Using her arms as an anchor, I guide her in for a hug and kiss her on the cheek. Jack nods in agreement from behind her. “I will. Promise,” I tell them both.
Despite my assurances, they wait while I order a ride. Jack checks out the driver, going so far as to take a picture of my phone confirmation screen and the white sedan once it arrives.
The driver doesn’t look pleased that his midnight cab is under such scrutiny.
“Sorry. I have super overprotective friends.” I smile at the rearview as I buckle in.
“Super overprotective friends who are friends with law enforcement,” Whitney adds, blowing me a kiss through the open window.
“If you don’t cool it, I’m going to lose my nearly perfect 4.9 rider rating.”
“Better than someone taking advantage of you. Isn’t that right…” She checks the screenshot on Jack’s phone. “Clayton?”
The pure boredom on Clayton’s face would shrivel me in my boots. “Your friend is in good hands, ma’am.”
“Good.” Whitney steps back and taps the roof of the car. “Off you go. Love you!”
I wince. Clayton better not be trigger-happy with that one star.
“Love you too, Whitney.”
Not wanting to encourage any conversation with Clayton, I rest my neck against the back of the seat and close my eyes.I’m only slightly tipsy after our night out. Needing to watch my blood sugar keeps me from overindulging. Since hitting my thirties, I’ve found that sticking to a couple of vodka sodas doesn’t send me low too badly. Nothing that some well-timed carbs can’t help manage. There’s always the risk of being high tomorrow, but I’ll deal with that when it comes. I can do the most perfect thing for my blood sugar, and it still does whatever it wants.
The night dancing with my new friends was well worth what comes after. My friendship with Whitney is stronger than ever, and I’m finding all the Powell women to be warm, kind, and welcoming. The kind of girl gang I always dreamed of being a part of, deepening the feeling that this place could become home.
Clayton pipes quiet pop music through his car's speakers. The chilly air rushing past the open window prompts me to hit the switch and close it. I play with my phone, scrolling through my text thread in preparation to tell Whitney I made it safe and sound. We have to be getting close now.
My lids are heavy as I blink myself awake to unfamiliar scenery. My muscles protest as I sit up. Did I doze off? Twisting my neck left and right, a sigh escapes as I spot my car parked on the other side of the street.
“Ma’am? Is this your place?”
“Sorry. I’m still getting used to the neighborhood.” Opening the door, I step onto the cracked asphalt street.
