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She opens her eyes dramatically and sits back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest.
“Bunny, give it a rest.”
“I was right!”
Picking my glass back up, I finish the rest of my champagne and then hold it in the air until the bartender notices me. I'm going to need a lot more alcohol.
“I was right! Say it!”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Say it!”
I just shake my head.
She smacks my knee. “Dahlia, I want you to admit it. If not for me, then for you. I was right. All this time, you've been all buttoned up, all living inside your head, pretending that you had no emotions, no desires, nothing. You've always been, you know… uptight.”
“I am not uptight!” I gasp, appalled.
“Oh please. You are the uptightest.”
I squirm in my chair, looking over my shoulder to make sure those other women aren't listening in on this.
“I'm not. I'm just cautious. I don't see any reason to go around —”
“— what? Go around being free? Being happy? Giving that a shot?”
“There's no need to be sarcastic.”
She sighs. She presses her lips to the side and tips her head. “Okay, fine. I take that part back. But seriously? Isn't this better? Can’t you admit it just a little bit?”
I think back, pondering last few days, the last couple weeks or so. Maybe she's got a point.
“It is sort of fun.”
She nods, her eyes bright and gleaming.
“It is fun!” she agrees. “Because, you know… I was right!”
Fine, whatever, she was right. I'm not going to say it out loud.
A few more people come into the room, shuffling toward the lounge chairs, coming up to the bar. Stan walks another couple of women toward the bar and delivers them, then returns to his post at the front door. In moments, the concert begins. Bunny squints at the closest LED screen over the top of her drink.
“Damn, that is a good-looking man,” she sighs.
“What? Are you serious? Kirkman?”
“Oh, yeah… I've always loved him. I mean, just look… it's like he glows! He is sort of amazing.”
I make a face, but try not to say anything. Bunny’s taste in man is not always the most awesome, but what's the harm? She certainly seems to know a lot more about these sorts of things than I do, anyway.
The VIP room fills up a little bit, but never gets congested or overflowing. Halfway through the concert, the tables are set with a modest but delicious buffet of paella, shrimp cocktail, and oysters on the half shell. Bunny loads up a plate and munches on it hungrily as she watches the concert through the screens, absorbing every moment.
After the show is over, I realize I am starting to feel a little bit tipsy. I've never been a very heavy drinker. Two glasses of champagne are usually my limit. I'm pretty sure I've had three. The one in my hand might be number four? I should definitely stop.
“That was amazing,” Bunny breathes. She slides from her barstool. “What do we do next? I brought a bag… should we go play slot machines? Is there a pool or something?”
“Well… Kirkman probably be here in a few minutes, so do you want to wait?”
