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“You guys are the best.” I wiped a pretend tear from my eye.
Lauren jumped in. “Yes, we are. And don’t you forget it!”
“To my best bitches,” I toasted them with my coffee cup.
“Best bitches,” they all resonated.
“Okay, but seriously, when are you gonna fuck him?” Jenny prodded.
“What?” I feigned shock, bringing my hand to my heart. “Why?”
“’Cause I’m living vicariously through you right now!”
“Soon,” I promised without thinking. And my stomach flipped at my admission. “And it has to be soon.” I looked down at my empty plate and wondered if Michael might taste just as good as my dessert. “I got two callbacks for head chef positions in San Francisco.”
Their words overran one other as they congratulated me and asked questions about the jobs I’d be interviewing for in a couple of days.
“It sucks you might be leaving again so soon, but I get it,” Audrey said.
“We all do,” Jenny agreed. “This is great news.” She grabbed me in a tight hug.
“I know. I didn’t think I’d hear back from any of them so soon. If I can get back up there ASAP,andget the money from Tim, then I can finally put that chapter of my life behind me and pick up right where I left off. I’m overwhelmed at the moment with everything going on here, but I’m excited.”
“You’ll get the job you want, and everything will work out. I just know it!”
I looked at my three best friends in the world. The girls who always had my back no matter what. They had seen me through the thick and thin, the ups and downs. And they never faltered. I knew I could always count on them.
ALWAYS.
Siena
The next morning, we satoutside Stella’s, donning our sunglasses to shade our sensitive eyes from the bright morning sunshine. The air was cool and crisp, the perfect weather to nurse our hangovers.
“Cell phone,” Lauren said, holding out her hand, her ebony hair back in a sleek ponytail. She pulled her mustard-colored cardigan tighter to her, her black and white plaid scarf still hugging her neck. I begrudgingly dug it out of my abyss of a bag, hoping to avoid this moment as long as possible. It was, as Lauren put it, time to “shit or get off the pot.” Avoiding the inevitable was only going to prolong this. The fact of the matter was, I not only needed my money back, but I also needed closure. I didn’t want—couldn’t have—this connection with Tim, and the money was the final thing I needed to handle so I could cut ties once and for all. I turned my phone over and over in my hands, nervous about contacting him.
Lauren drummed her amethyst lacquered fingertips on the table, thinking out loud. “What should we say?”
“We?” I tucked my hair behind me. “It’s just me, notwe. I don’t have multiple personalities.”
“This is a group effort,” Audrey corrected me. “Wehave your back, andweare with you all the way on this. So,‘we.’” She quoted the invisible word in the air.
“How about ‘Hey, dickwad, I need my money back’?” Lauren suggested, leaning forward, elbows on the table.
“Ooh, I like the dickwad part. Or asshat.” Audrey laughed loudly, then cringed, pressing her temples, her dark auburn hair a messy knot on her head. “I hate hangovers!” she groaned, unbuttoning her bulky camel-colored coat. “Jesus fuck, it’s hot. I’m sweating balls in this jacket.”
“Yeah, we can smell the alcohol seeping out of your pores,” Lauren teased.
“Look who’s talking,” she snapped. It was uncharacteristic of Audrey to go off like that, to yell at any of us. We looked at her, wondering what the hell was going on. She waved her hand. “Sorry,” she grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. That was all she said.
We collectively blew it off, figuring it was just the hangover talking, but something nagged at me about her quick, bitchy response and then her nonchalant attitude when she dismissed it.
“Drink more water.” I filled up her glass and slid it to her. “You need to hydrate.” Digging back into my bag, I produced a bottle of pills. “Everybody take some aspirin. And hydrate, for god’s sake.” I unlocked my phone, held it out for Lauren. “Can we get back to this? I want to get it over with.”
Lauren pulled her ponytail tighter against her scalp, getting into serious thinker mode. “Right, okay.” She took the phone and started typing. “Hey, asshole, I need my money. Send it to my grandparents’ address.” She looked up with an arched eyebrow and a cunning smirk.
“No, absolutely not.”
“Ah, why not?” She pouted, crossing her arms.
