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9
Nina walkedinto the bar and looked around, trying to spot Karen’s red hair in the crowd, an old trick from college that had guided Nina to her best friend even at the most crowded fratparties.
She didn’t know what she’d expected when Karen insisted she meet up with her, Robin, and Amy for their standing Wednesday happy hour date, but it wasn’t this tiny box in Soho, packed with so many people she couldn’t even see the bar, let alone find a way toit.
A hand shot up from deep within the crowd, and a second later Karen’s copper head popped up through the masses. She waved Nina forward, and Nina began the complicated process of navigating a path through thecrowd.
After a flurry of apologies that no one seemed to hear, Nina emerged at the back of the bar, relieved to see that Karen and Robin had commandeered a smalltable.
“Jesus,” she said, taking off her coat. “Who are all thesepeople?”
Karen laughed. “It’s always likethis.”
It wasn’t exactly quiet at the back of the bar, but the roar of the crowd had dulled enough that Nina could hear the words coming from Karen’s mouth. It wassomething.
“I’m going to get a fresh round,” Robin said, sliding from the booth. “Amy’s late, and you know what thatmeans.”
“What does that mean?” Nina said, taking Robin’s place in thebooth.
“It means we should have two cocktails waiting when she gets here,” Karensaid.
Nina laughed. “Gotit.”
“What’s your pleasure?” Robin askedher.
Nina thought about it. When she’d been younger, she and Karen had always ordered Cosmos or Appletinis. Somewhere along the way, Karen had graduated to whiskey on the rocks, while Nina had made her way to everyone’s favorite Mom drink — vodkacranberry.
But she wasn’t anybody’s mom, and even if she was, it didn’t mean she had to beboring.
“Vodka martini,” she said, answering Robin’s question. “With anolive.”
“Nice,” Robinsaid.
“Want some help?” Ninaasked.
“No, thanks.” Robin patted her silvery hair. “I bartended in college. Got to keep up my skillset in case this whole nonprofit thing goes toshit.”
“Vodka martini.” Karen’s voice was tinged with surprise as Robin made her way toward thebar.
Nina shrugged. “Time for achange.”
“I couldn’t agreemore.”
“Where is Amy?” Nina askedKaren.
She finished off the drink in front of her. “Probably stuck with a client, either at the office or on the phone outside. She works like adog.”
She was wearing a deep purple blouse that set off her green eyes, her makeup impeccable, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders. It was enough to make Nina second-guess the comfort-over-style decision she’d made back at the apartment, a decision that had resulted in old black jeans — big in the waist, tight in the ass since she’d been hitting the gym — an oversize sweater, and nothing but tinted lip balm on herface.
“Poor thing,” Ninasaid.
“She loves every second of it,” Karen said. “How’s it going in Brooklyn? How’s the newgym?”
For two weeks, Nina’s gym search had been her only contribution to her meet-ups with Karen, Robin, and Amy. They’d all had an opinion about whether she should go with the expensive neighborhood gym or the giant, warehouse-style facility that was only twenty bucks amonth.
“It’s good,” Nina said. “And I got ajob!”
Karen leaned back, looking impressed. “Really? That’s incredible! Doingwhat?”
