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“Check.”
“Cash and credit cards?”
“Check,” I reply, opening my tangerine print passport holder to expose the neatly tucked in bills and bank card. I slip my airline confirmation inside and flip it closed.
She nods her approval and brings her pen down to scratch that off her list before moving onto the next item. “Sunscreen?”
I give her a droll look. She’s acutely aware of my skincare routine; I don’t step outside without protection on. Ultraviolet radiation will not be my downfall.
She lifts a perfectly shaped brow at me and I sigh in return, but humor her anyway. “Check.”
“Luce, how often does Rumor go off the grid? I think she’s got it down by now. No need to police her. You’re giving me serious flashbacks of Sister Beatrice at Central Catholic, and those are not memories I want to relive.” Jesse shudders and swallows down the last dregs of her mimosa.
“It’s important to be prepared, Jesse. She only found out last night that she’s leaving today for a vacation in another country. Would you prefer her to forget something and be stranded?” Lucy chides, her mother hen voice in full effect.
I tune out their bickering and pick up my Nikon, snapping a few shots of Scarlett lounging on the velvet chaise at the end of my bed. Her golden tresses are tied back in a messy braid with loose wisps framing her heart-shaped face. My bestie is a goddamn stunner. I relish the opportunity to get some candid shots of her. She tips the champagne flute back for another sip, completely oblivious of me and my camera—just how I like it. The light streaming in from my bay window reflects off the glass in her hand creating a rainbow of color playing across her.
A few snaps later and she’s onto me, rolling her eyes with enough sass to fill the room. “No photos this early in the morning, Rumor. I’m not your Parisian girl, you can’t paint me,” she says, flipping me the bird.
“Good thing I’m shit at painting, then.” I wink and turn the camera towards Lucy and Jesse who unsurprisingly are still engaged in a riveting discussion on the importance of planning.
Gag me.
These two are like Tom and Jerry. Complete opposites and fated enemies, but one hundred percent best friends for life—everyone knows Tom only chases Jerry because he has to, not because he wants to. Similarly, Jesse riles up Lucy because it’s a necessary evil in getting our resident mother hen to relax her feathers. And as an added bonus it allows Lucy to focus on our daredevil babe and keep her in check.
“You should leave, you’re going to be late to work,” Lucy tells Jesse.
“That’s right, why aren’t you at the shop? I thought you had to open this morning?” I ask while easing my camera into its travel case and double checking that the 50mm lens and charger are packed inside.
“Tommi ended up opening. She had a client who could only come in at the butt crack of dawn.”
“Celebrity?” I ask. They’re usually the only ones that request appointments outside of the tattoo shop’s operating hours.
“Nah, but just as high profile.”
Makes sense. You have to spend a pretty penny to get a tattoo from Tommi, and she’s more than worth it. The five of us babes have matching lavender sprigs tattooed on the right side of our rib cage courtesy of Tommi. It’s the one thing we all have in common, our love for lavender scented everything.
“Is that all you’re packing?” Scarlett asks, rifling through my canvas backpack.
“Yep. What more do I need?”
“How about more clothes?”
“It's just a weekend, all I need is a couple bikinis, a wrap cover up, and a sundress for the plane ride home.”
The room grows silent—Lucy and Jesse have ceased their argument in favor of staring at me with varying levels of confusion and concern. You’d think they’d know me by now. Know how I live when off the grid or on vacation. I don’t need numerous suitcases; give me a bikini, sun hat, and my camera, and I’m good to go.
“I don’t understand you, not sure I ever will,” Scarlett says, shaking her head and closing my backpack. “But I trust you know what you need, so I’ll leave it to you. Is there more champagne?” She holds up her empty flute and smiles wolfishly at me.
“You’re such a fucking lush,” I tease, slipping out of my room to grab the champagne and orange juice from the kitchen.
“And you love me just the way I am. Besides, Jesse is the alcoholic of our group, I’m just toeing the line,” Scarlett yells after me, cackling.
I don’t catch Jesse’s reply, but I’m sure she grumbled something about being Irish and having to live up to her ancestors—her go-to response when we pick on her drinking, which is often. The girl can flat knock back Guinness and whiskey like nobody’s business.
“You know, it’s pretty insane how often you win contests,” Jesse says as I saunter back into my room and top off her and Scarlett’s glasses. “I’m starting to think you have the luck of the Irish and not me.”
“Cause and effect, babe. You get back what you put out into the world. I’m always throwing positive vibes, bright light, and happiness out there, so it makes sense that the universe throws it right back at me. Doesn’t mean it always works that way, but everything comes out even in the wash.”
