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Then the suite door swings open, and we hear the sound of two sets of stiletto heels clomping down the hall.
“Hey, y’all!” Mysti May calls out. “Guess who I found waiting for me down at the bar!”
A group-wide eye roll commences.
“Unless you’re Mysti May,” Percy stipulates beneath her breath.
“Silly bird could use a few sober decisions to balance the scales a bit,” Liam agrees.
“I think she missed me,” Mysti May coos, trekking in with her arm around Ladyboy Celine Dion.
But Ladyboy Celine Dion is looking a little worse for wear right now. In fact, Ladyboy Celine Dion doesn’t seem to be having a very good time at all.
“I left my drugs here,” Ladyboy Celine Dion tells us all, looking somewhat apologetic.
“Check the bathroom,” I suggest, and she clomps off to search for whatever illicit substances she decided to stash in our toilet or beneath our sink last night.
“Isn’t she great?” Mysti May coos, watching Ladyboy Celine Dion leave.
We all share a look.
“Myst, we’ve gotta talk about your love life, hun.”
“This isn’t healthy,” Percy agrees.
“We just want what’s best for you,” Becky says sweetly.
“And you might need to stop falling in love with any tart who asks to see your tits,” Liam adds. Like he’s trying to crack an eggshell with a jackhammer.
“You…fuck you, guys.” Mysti May blinks…then scowls. “All y’all get to make drunken decisions, and they turn out fucking perfectly, then allmineend up being trash? This ain’t fair!”
It looks like I’m not the only one on the verge of a breakdown. It’s only just hitting me now…but this trip has been pretty fucking awful for Mysti May, too. Becky and Liam might just need a tetanus shot or two, and Percy definitely needs a hairdresser…but I really do feel for Mysti May.
Or at least, I’m starting to, when I hear a sharp, shrill yelp come from the bathroom. A shaggy brown blur comes flying out through the bathroom door and hits the wall, then takes off running through the hotel suite.
It takes me a second to sort out what’s going on.
Percy gets there first.
“The monkey’s got the drugs!” she yells, diving across the floor at the renegade primate.
It kicks her in the face before leaping onto Liam’s head. Becky sees a quick solution there, grabbing her purse and swinging it at the furry little face-hugger…but a moment too late.
Instead, she just ends up hitting Liam in the face with her Louis Vuitton while the monkey scrambles into the kitchen with a massive bag of weed, Mysti May in hot pursuit.
It’s fucking chaos, is what it is. I don’t even bother dealing with it—instead, I just tip the bottle of tequila back against my lips and finish off what’s left of it. Might as well, right? I’ve already ruined my life this weekend—can one more drink really hurt?
And that’s when it happens.
That’s when I remember marrying Lachlan fucking Williams.
