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“Three,” Miranda says, cutting me off while holding up three fingers.
“Really, I’m fine,” I protest.
“No. You need to have one with us, to celebrate.” Amanda turns to the bartender. “Three.”
“Right away, madam. Salt, or no salt?”
“Salt,” Miranda answers. He turns to the back bar and starts preparing the massive drinks.
“I really don’t like tequila,” I say to them both, hoping to get out of this.
“Stop,” Miranda says. “All you taste is lime. It’ll be fine.”
“Besides,” Amanda adds, “they’re probably tourist trap drinks. Ya know, really weak.” The girls chat while I tune them out and watch him assemble our drinks. Speaking from experience, these are definitely not tourist drinks. As he pours half a bottle of Patron into a very large mixing cup, I see a hangover in my future. I’m so screwed. When he pulls out the fishbowl sized glasses, the nail is put in the proverbial coffin.
“Ohmigod!” Amanda squeals. “Those look fantastic!”
“Thank you, madam. If you need anything else, my name is Amani.” He places one massive drink in front of each of us.
“I hope we’re staying at the bar. I would need two hands to carry this and I’m not sure I would make it very far,” I mutter in annoyance.
“Thank you,” Miranda says, essentially dismissing me as she stirs the ice around with a straw. “Ladies, here is to an amazing evening and to Amanda’s wedding tomorrow.”
“Cheers,” we say before taking a sip.
I watch the girls sip their fishbowl, neither one making a face.
“Holy shit, this is fantastic!” Miranda exclaims. Amanda nods in agreement.
Deciding if you can’t beat them, join them, I take a daring sip. Making that just-ate-a-lemon face, my cheeks suck into my mouth. It’s citrusy and really, really strong. Closing my eyes, I shake my head, trying to get rid of the bitterness. Damn you, Patron!
“You don’t like it, madam?” Amani asks, seeing my reaction.
“She’s fine. The drink’s are amazing,” Amanda answers while shooting me a stop-being-a-baby look. If I finish this drink as fast as they are, I’ll be flat on my ass before intermission. Maybe, if I take tiny sips, it’ll last until the show. “So, after the show, we need to find a club.”
“Yes, I want to dance, too,” Miranda says.
“Good. I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” Amanda says looking at me, daring me to disagree.
Forty five minutes later, both Miranda and Amanda are done with their drinks. I, on the other hand, have more than half left.
“We need another one of these,” Miranda shouts down the bar at Amani, waving her huge empty glass.
“Chase didn’t tell me you were such a lightweight,” Amanda jokes.
“I don’t really drink tequila. I’m more of a beer and wine girl.”
“Well, we need to loosen you up a bit, I think,” Amanda says. “Shots!”
“Yes, shots!” Miranda concurs. I inwardly cringe, although Amanda lifts her brow at my reaction.
Amani comes back to our end of the bar. “Ladies.”
“We need three shots,” Miranda says to Amani.
“Of?” he asks.
“She’s getting married tomorrow, so something good,” she says, motioning toward Amanda.
