Page 56 of Troubles

“Fine. Francie and the bar boys gave me a wad of cash to make sure you got something beautiful that would knock your mom and Maryse on their asses.” She puts her hand up cutting off my protest. “We all know you’re all about doing everything yourself, but just take it this time. Really. Strut into that wedding looking like a rock star with your beautiful man and let them know—rub it in their fucking faces—that you got your Prince Charming.”

33

Lis

To celebrate finding something fantastic to wear to the wedding, and mostly because we are out of Twizzlers at this point, Gracyn and I head to the bistro. We grab a couple of seats at the bar, and order a shit-ton of food. Sangria, fried calamari, goat cheese and tomato bruschetta, eggplant au gratin—and tiramisu. The dress is forgiving, so thankfully this splurge won’t even matter.

“So, thank you, G—for today. I hate shopping unless you make me.”

“Lis, you hate shopping regardless. God, you hate doing anything that’s just for you. Seriously, be selfish once in a while. It’s okay, you know.”

“Yeah, I feel like I’ve gotten better at it—maybe? How are you doing?”

I scoop some eggplant onto some garlic toast, garlic and spices bursting in the air. “You miss me or are you liking living alone?”

“Mmm, I’m alright. I miss you always, you know that. It’d be nice to find another roommate though. I hate that you’re still paying rent and don’t even live there.”

Gracyn grabs a fork and divides the plate of calamari in half, leaving a huge gap between the piles.

“Yeah. I hate that I’m not paying for anything with Aidan right now. He keeps telling me not to worry about it, but it’s killing me, being dependent.” I reach past her for the lemon and squeeze it on my half of the calamari.

I lean back in my seat and look out the front windows, watching people go by. There are couples walking hand in hand, families getting ice cream from next door. There is love out there and my friend needs to find some.

“So, what about Gavin? Heard from him?”

The eye roll she gives me is epic—Olympic quality.

“And how would I hear from him, hmm? No contact. That’s—you know what? Forget it. He was fun, a fling. Just leave it alone already, please? Please?”

“Someday I’m going to get you drunk enough to spill. Are you dating at all right now?”

She grumps a no into her wine glass and grabs a lemon-less ring of squid, popping it into her mouth.

I shake my head and go back to staring out the windows, and watch as a girl crossing the street stops right in the middle. A car screeches to a halt, the driver yelling at her. She doesn’t seem to notice, focused intently on something in front of the gelato place next door.

“Holy shit, what is she doing?”

Gracyn’s head pops up just as the chick waves off the driver and dashes the rest of the way across.

“Weird. Hey, I’ll be right back, I need to check when I’m working again.” And she bolts for the back room with her phone clutched tightly to her chest. She’s so making my head spin. I swirl the deep red wine around my glass, lost in thought.

“Hey, can I get a margarita, heavy on the tequila? Rocks and salt, please.”

The girl from the street drops her clutch on the bar and slides into the seat next to me. Her phone vibrates inside the clutch, stops and starts in again. She pulls it out, swiping the screen angrily.

“There’s nothing you can say that will make this right, so stop. I don’t—” The last thing I want to do is listen to her phone call, but she’s right there. And pissed. “—no, you do you. It’s fine, I’ll figure something out and get my shit out.” She disconnects and tosses her phone on the bar.

She drains half her drink in one gulp and drops her glass back down on the bar. Gracyn wiggles back into her seat on the other side of me and looks back and forth from me to the girl with her eyebrows up in her hairline.

“Sorry, y’all didn’t need to hear my mess.” She slams down the rest of her drink and rattles the ice at the bartender. “Just keep ’em coming, sugar.”

As she downs the second margarita, tension seeps out of her and sanity finds its way back in. And we all realize that Gracyn and I are just sitting there, watching this poor girl’s shit show unfold.

She looks from me to Gracyn to me once again, empty glass and back up to me again.

“Wow. Um, sorry. Really.” She reaches out her hand. “I’m Kate, and honestly, I’m not a psycho, I just… Holy shit, my day has gone to hell in a hurry.”

Her Southern twang from earlier is working its way out of her voice, like she’s willing it to go away. She slides her glass toward the edge of the bar and taps the rim as the bartender looks over.

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