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“That’s what worries me,” Kate interjected. “I want my best friend back. Ever since that bastard walked out on you, you’ve been like this.” Kate made a desperate gesture. “I hate to see what you’ve become. You used to be cool. And confident.”
Danielle reflected on the truth in Kate’s words. She used to be confident about her self-image. She was proud of her curves. She might not be the image of Hollywood beauty standards, but she held a special allure all her own. Men of all shapes and sizes couldn’t resist checking out her chest. Her all-natural F cup boobs never failed to attract their attention. And her shapely lush backside and hourglass waist had always earned her a double take from every creature with a cock. She was the very incarnation of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus in spirit. Radiant. Glowing. Sensual.
Until that damn wedding gown disaster.
Suffice it to say, any self-confidence she had was knocked to the bottom rung and seemed to stay there.
Danielle held up her hands. “Listen, I just need to take time to heal, okay? I thought Brian was my soul mate. I was wrong.”
“Yeah, but how long are you going to wallow in pain like this? It’s already been three months. You should move on. I bet Brian moved on a long time ago.”
Danielle sighed. “If I stop making fat jokes, would you stop badgering me with blind dates?”
“Deal.”
The door to the restroom opened and a stream of flushed-faced girls entered. Danielle shimmied past them. Kate shadowed her. Her best friend halted her when they were about to step into the bustling restaurant area.
“Wait,” Kate said. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “On second thought, let’s ditch them.”
“I beg your pardon?” Danielle pretended to look scandalized. “Does mine ear deceive me? The honorable Kate Winter wants to play hookie on a date? That’s shocking, madam. Indubitably shocking.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I got buyer’s remorse too, okay? Will is a droll.”
“Well, I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
“And Alan is no better. He sounded more interesting on his profile.”
“Where did you round up these people?”
“Remember when I had a business trip to Orlando last week? I met a few reps from Socor who are single and it snowballed from there.” Kate pulled out her phone and started texting.
Danielle craned her neck, peeking over Kate’s shoulder. “What are you going to say to them?”
“That you got violently sick and had to go home. We both take a rain check.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Throw me under the bus.”
“Deal with it. You owe me that much.” Kate hit send and stowed her phone back into her satchel with a triumphant sneer. “Let’s go.”
They barged into the kitchen, apologizing profusely along the way and exited through the back door. The hot, humid temperature ambushed them as soon as they stepped outside. Kate laughed uncontrollably.
“I can’t believe we ditched them,” she said between her giggle fits.
“We’re bad people,” added Danielle.
“Yes, yes. We’re bad. We’re the only girls in the world who ditch their lousy dates. Well, let’s go.” Kate pulled her hand. They tottered along the alleyway and crossed the parking lot.
Danielle hiccupped. The nice buzz she had gradually dissipated, leaving her with a lingering hangover. They stopped by a Cuban food stall and ordered their bitter, potent coffee and Reuben sandwiches.
Kate chose the farthest bench and settled in. She unwrapped the sandwich and dug in with gusto. They hadn’t had dinner earlier. Just drinks. They met up with Will and Alan at Galapagos and supposedly would head to a comedy show on Bicknell after that. Chappelle headlined Miami for a week before continuing his tour to Tampa, but Danielle had a feeling no matter how hilarious the show would be, it couldn’t salvage their disastrous date night.
Danielle sipped her coffee. Slowly, the simmering buzz from the alcohol ebbed away. She took a bite of her sandwich and savored the complex sour and salty taste. Her stomach calmed gradually.
She took a breather. Deep, long exhalation. The breeze from the sea gave respite from the hot and humid weather. She could smell salt in the air. Along with burned charcoal and pungent seasoning. Laughter and a seductive Latin beat rumbled in the background, along with the soft crashing of ocean waves.
Friday night in Miami.
Mating night. And everyone tried to get lucky.
