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One
Aria
HereIam,athirty-year-old, newly divorced woman drinking my third bottle of wine while dancing around my condo in my cheeky underwear, wearing my baggie “Biggie Smalls” t-shirt and listening to Beyonce, “Irreplaceable”. I am singing at the top of my lungs at five in the evening on a Wednesday. My divorce was finalized today after a yearlong battle. I am a free woman. A seven-year rocky marriage and three years of dating down the drain.
Though the intoxication was coursing through my veins, I could still hear him in the depths of my mind. “You fucking fat bitch! You want a fucking divorce? I will make your life a living hell because I will not give you a fucking cent. I cannot be seen with someone like you. A fat pig who does not know how to please her husband or take care of herself. I mean you could not even carry our damn baby because you are so fat and overweight.”
Being on the larger side for a woman, I never let my body size define me. I have always embraced my curves. Yes, I have a big ass that jiggles when I walk. I have wide hips and thick thighs that have an obsession with one another. My waist is not tiny, but not too wide either. My breasts are all natural, full and big. I loved my body, but his words hurt. They cut me deep, deep into my soul, but I would not let him see how his words affected me. I kick myself even now for not thinking of something better to spit back, but even in my mind today, I still answer with what I said all those months ago. “Okay. Hope you at least wore a condom with Kimberly because she seems like the type that would sleep with almost everyone in the office.”
I do not need a man to define me. Or a marriage to define me as a woman. I am entering my screw men era and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it either. This is about me finding myself and who Aria is. And right now, I’m finding out that I love drinking wine on a Wednesday afternoon and dancing like no one is watching me or judging me.
I go to meet with my four best friends Hope, Hayley, Quinn and Caroline at our favorite bar that serves the best margaritas in Seattle. A night with my girls is exactly what I need to celebrate my recent freedom from the Was-Band.
I arrive late to the bar because my client was talking my ear off about the property that they just put an offer in on. Must be nice to wire two point two million dollars on a building of your choosing. The Seattle Commercial Real Estate market is fast paced and competitive. There have been countless times where I have had to pull something out of my (fat) ass to make a deal happen, and this deal looks like it might be one. This one I might have to get creative on. However, I need to take a step back and recharge before I tackle it. Let’s be honest, I will most likely get an idea while having drinks with my girls, and I’ll have this deal done by tomorrow evening.
Hope has a margarita in front of her and is ordering a round of shots. Hayley is flirting with the waiter. Quinn is laughing at something Hope just said, and Caroline is most likely texting her boyfriend––excuse me, fiancé.
Approaching the table, I hear Hope ask Hayley, “How can you juggle dating four different guys? I can barely handle the one I am dating currently. But four? Fuck.”
Hayley flips her long blonde hair behind her dainty shoulder and rolls her green eyes. “Hey, I am upfront and honest when they ask me out. I tell them that I am not interested in settling down. I like to have fun, and I date more than one person. This way, it saves me from getting my heart broken or any feelings involved. Been there and done that. No thanks. This way everyone knows what’s up.”
Hope blinks at Hayley. “I swear sometimes you are a man in a hot-as-fuck woman’s body.”
Pulling out my chair, I hang my purse on the corner of the backrest. They all smile at me and say, loudly, “Ding Dong the Small Dick is Gone!” I cannot help but laugh and bow like an idiot. Though, it is true. The small dick is gone. Boy, bye.
I grab the shot in front of me, throwing it back and my face says it all. Fuck, I am not a vodka girl and Hope knows that asshole. Reaching for the margarita in front of me to wash it down and say, “Really Hope? Vodka? You could have at least picked good tequila tonight,” I whine. She just laughs at me and orders a few more, but I override that order and ask the waiter for a tequila shot.
After the next round of shots, Hope is the one to speak first. “You know, I was thinking the other day––”
We all groan because when Hope starts off by saying that it never leads to anything good. I widen my eyes, “The last time you said that, it resulted in all of us going deep sea fishing during a storm!”
Quinn chimes in, “Hope, this better not be another thing for an article, because last time, I thought I was going to die on that damn boat.”
“Okay, you all need to let that go. I don’t know how many times I have to apologize to you cry babies. We all agreed to never speak of that trip again. But no, Quinn, it is not for one of my articles, I know better now. I was thinking that we should all go to Las Vegas and celebrate our girl, Aria here, on her divorce from limp dick.” Hope wiggles her eyebrows at all of us.
We all look at each other, I am the first to raise my glass. “Vegas, here we come baby!” I shout, and the rest of the girls shout with me. “Vegas!”
I have this overall feeling that this mini getaway to celebrate, is going to somehow or another be life changing. How? I have no idea. A sense of awakening and finding myself. Now, the question is…is Las Vegas ready for the new Aria?
Two
Aria
Thereisjustsomethingin the air when you step off the plane onto Las Vegas land. I feel free and could care less how I act since this is what they call. “The Divorce Capital of America”, and I cannot think of a better way to celebrate the end of my marriage than getting drunk with my best girlfriends. This mini vacation that Hope concocted, is exactly what we all needed for sure. All I care about is drinking my weight in margarita’s while lying out by the pool. There is no one for me to report back to or call to check in with, but I have a funny suspicion that Hope has more planned than just sitting by the pool.
As I am lying in one of the cabana’s lounge chairs, yes Hope did outdo herself by renting a cabana with drinks and food included, she says, “Ladies, tonight we are hitting The Strip. Our mission tonight is to find someone for Aria to have some fun with.”
Hayley adds, “Yes! To finding a hot man to help Aria get over her dirtbag of an ex!”
Quinn and Caroline cheer them both on––laughing at my friends, I raise my glass and say, “Good riddance to that chapter of my life and here is to the new one. One where I have you all by my side to support me and cheer me on. Let’s have a wild weekend, girls!”
And wild it would be.
After we spent most of our morning at the pool and well into the afternoon, we decided to have a low-key rest of the day before heading out tonight for dancing and whatever the night brings us. I changed into a simple black t-shirt dress that hugs my curves and hits above my knees. It has a scallop neckline, showcasing the girls, with my white tennis shoes. I tie my hair into a messy bun while pulling out a few strands to frame my face. Keeping the makeup light, only mascara and lip gloss since I got some sun today, and I don’t want to overdo my face. That will be for later. We are walking the strip, checking out the sights on the main drag, when I see a tattoo shop that reads, “Sin City”. For a while now, I have wanted to get a tattoo but was always told by Greg how trashy it would look, and people with tattoos are lowlifes who have no jobs and are drug addicts. I thought tattoos were beautiful. The artwork they can create on one’s body is amazing and pure talent. Plus, it takes years to perfect their skills with the tattoo gun.
I stop in front of the shop staring at the sign on the tinted window. I can see a little bit of the shop and there are a few people inside. The girls stopped talking when they realized I stopped walking. I turn my head to them and smile. They smile as well, and Hayley opens the door for me.
The tattoo shop is edgy with artwork hanging all over the deep red walls and the couches in the front are black leather. There is a back room I can see off to the left, which I assume is where the piercings would be done. There are four occupied stations to the right of the shop, each with a small chair on wheels, a stainless-steel tray table, and a long, black chair the client lies in. Across from the front counter, a short woman with a blonde pixie cut and hot pink highlights stares at the computer screen in front of her.
