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“Jessie.” She stammers, and please help this poor girl because Boston is about to lay down the charm so thick she’ll think they’re getting married next month.
“You sticking around for the concert?” Boston asks, his voice dropping his voice an octave. He’s selling sex right now, and a laugh bubbles against my chest.
“Yeah,” she says, trying hard not to appear as flustered as she is, “my friends and I got tickets.”
“Awesome, I’ll keep an eye out for you.” Boston says, grabbing the cups that just appeared from the counter. I grab the other one and nod to her. The girls in the stand squeal as we walk away, and I chuckle to myself.
“Why tie yourself down to one woman when you can have anyone you want?” Boston asks as we make our way back to the tent. I spot Bristol sitting with Andy, the tour promoter, talking animatedly and laughing. I don’t have to think too hard about the response to his question, it’s always been her.
“Why would I want anyone else when she exists? She’s it for me, man. No more groupies, no more ‘just for one night’, I don’t want to live in the moment anymore, I want to plan for the future.”
“Happy for ya, man. More for me.” he replies with a smirk and a shrug.
The girls’ laughter carries as we make our way to them, Andy cackles at something Bristol said and makes a circling motion around her head and then laughs harder.
“What’s so funny, ladies?’ Boston asks as we approach.
“Oh my god, we were talking about her wedding dress and what a monstrosity it was.” She runs her thumb under her eye to wipe away the tears.
“Oh yeah, what did it look like?” I ask, imagining Bristol in a wedding dress. There’s no way she looked anything less than beautiful, but I want to hear what a complete shit show her wedding was.
“You don’t know?” Andy says, eyeing me like I'm crazy. Like how would I not know what it looked like.
“No. Should I?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Well she was-” Andy starts, but Bristol cuts her off immediately.
“In a lot of papers and magazine articles. I think we made the cover of the Inquirer.” She laughs nervously. Andy looks at her like she’s grown another head, and I feel like I missed a chapter of this story somewhere. .
“Huh, must have missed it.” I reply, my lips pursing with annoyance. Her wedding has something to do with her secret. I just know it. I feel like Sherlock Holmes right now, trying to put all the pieces together, the worst part is my boy Watson knows the truth and won’t tell me.
“I better go.” Andy says, confusion marring her face. “The Plight is on at one thirty.” She reminds us as she grabs her clipboard from the table.
“Stop by later, I can tell you all about the stupid swan in the middle of the yard.” Bristol yells as Andy walks away. The girls both laugh, and Andy shoots her a thumbs up.
What in the hell is going on?
***
Tequila is a truth serum for a lot of people. It can make you happy, or angry, sappy, or horny, but it almost always brings out the truth. Whiskey lies, tequila tells the truth, and vodka varies. I’ve lied to myself a thousand times with whiskey, I’ve made mistakes and had the time of my life with vodka, but tequila, I’ve always been a sap on tequila.
Bristol tilts her head back as she downs her second tequila shot. Yes, I got the tequila, yes, I know what it does to her, no, I don’t fucking care. I need answers, and if she needs a little liquid courage to let them out, so be it. Her tongue darts out to lick the lime perched in between her thumb and forefinger. Her face screws up from the taste, but I’m too invested in her tongue right now to laugh at her bitter face.
“Oh god, who let me do another one?” She laughs loudly. Her eyes are bright and her smile is a happy one. Huh, maybe tequila was a great idea.
“You’ve only had two.” Boston reminds her as he takes the glass bottle from the small table in front of us. He pours three shots out into the small plastic cups, hands us each a salt packet and a lime wedge. He knows what I’m doing, he just isn’t going to say anything because Boston loves drama and a drunk Bristol.
“Back to back.” She cackles, yes cackles. It’s like she let a hyena take over her mouth for a moment. I smile at her, and for the first time in days, she smiles back.
“One more, and I’m done. We’ve gotta play soon.” She says suddenly serious, her face stoic as she remembers where she is, but then she breaks out in a laugh, and I cannot help but laugh with her.
I grab the shot glass from the center of the table, and the other two follow, holding the small cup in the center of the table I signal for a cheers. Boston and Bristol hold their cups next to mine as I remember a cheers that Alex used to say.
“Cheers to you fucks, cheers to me, let’s go out there and make them scream.” I call out, hitting the glass against theirs. Everyone hoots and licks the line of salt from the top of their hands. I throw the shot back quickly, not wanting the bitter liquid to hit my tongue as much as possible, and the alcohol burns my throat as I bite into the lime wedge hoping to subdue the taste.
“Fuck that’s terrible,” Boston says with a grimace. His face is turned up as he takes another bite of the lime.
“Really?” Bristol smiles. “I like it. A lot.” Her eyes find mine across the table, and I can’t help but notice the flames she’s throwing me. They aren’t the burn in hell flames that I normally get, these are ‘I’m going to suck your dick like I’m mad at it’ flames, and I am one thousand percent on board for that heat. Drunk frisky Bristol is one of my favorite personalities of hers.
