“Yes.” She gave me a weak smile and I watched her face turn toward the bar and the two middle-aged, balding men who were sitting there drinking beers. “Maybe we’re early.”
“It’s nine thirty.” I gave her a look. “When do the hotties come out?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ten thirty?”
“Uh, okay.” I sighed, my spirit sinking. “Exactly who told you this was the happening place for single women?”
“Yelp,” Mila admitted sheepishly.
“Yelp!” I groaned. “You know the bar owner probably posted some fake reviews to attract suckers like us.” I shook my head and looked around the bar once again. “And it looks like it only worked on us.” Except for us and the two middle-aged men at the bar, there was a big, bulky, tattooed guy sitting with a really skinny girl who looked like she was high on drugs. The bar was dark, dirty, and dingy, and I was confident that I would be spending no time dancing on the bar top this evening, or any other evening here.
“Let’s just get one drink and we can go somewhere else,” Mila said encouragingly as she walked toward the bar. “Maybe the first drink will make us feel better.”
“Of course alcohol will make us feel better. The question is, do we want to feel better in this dump?”
“Lara.” Mila looked at me with widened eyes as we both realized that the bartender had heard me.
“You ladies want a drink?” He looked over at me and barely bat an eyelid.
“Sure,” I said and reached into my purse to grab some money, feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d heard me. What if he turned out to be the bar owner? It wasn’t his fault that he ran a dumpy bar. I mean, he was trying to gain new clientele, it seemed, if his fake Yelp reviews were to be believed.
“What do you want?” he said again, looking bored. The expression on his face almost made me turn back around.
“We’ll get two vodka sprites, please,” Mila said. “Ketel One, if you have it.”
“Ketel what?” the bartender asked, looking confused.
“Ketel One Vodka?” Mila said hesitantly. “It’s, um, a brand.”
“I have Smirnoff.”
“That’s fine,” she said quickly, and I sighed. “This is going to be a long night,” I whispered to her. “I might have been happier lying in bed, crying my eyes out.”
“Lara, that’s not funny,” Mila chided me, but I could see the smile in her eyes. “I promise the next bar will be much better.”
“Uh-huh, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I keep my promises.” She looked hurt.
“You said this place would be swarming with hotties and the only thing I think it’s swarming with is hep B and C.”
“Lara,” she chided me again, but this time we both started laughing. The bartender handed us our drinks and we slid onto the two barstools in front of us. I saw the two middle-aged men giving us the once-over and I gave one of them a scornful look. As if! To my shock, the guy stuck his tongue out of his mouth and flicked it against his lips. I looked away from him quickly and then at Mila.
I am going to kill you, I mouthed to her before taking a huge gulp of my drink. “And it will be a painful death. A very, very painful death.”
“Sorry.” She grinned and downed her drink. “Not too painful, I hope.”
“As painful as Parker was the other night with his blue balls,” I said with a straight face, and then we both started laughing. I wasn’t sure why I found it so funny. I still felt humiliated and rejected, but Mila had been right. It was better for me to be out of the house, where I didn’t have to spend my time feeling sorry for myself and crying over Parker. At least now I could commiserate and have some laughs as well.
“Hey,so where do you think you want to go next?” Mila chugged down the last drops of her drink quickly and gave me a quick glance.
“Home,” I said quickly. Even though I was enjoying our time out together, I still wanted to be that miserable person in bed, watching sad romantic movies and feeling sorry for myself as I gained ten pounds stuffing my face with candy and ice cream.
“You can’t go home.” Mila glared at me. “We’re already out.”
“Yeah, we’re out, but I don’t want to be out anymore.”
“Lara,” she whined.
