Page 12 of In Love with the Devil

“Pretty much.” She nods.

Pretty…Why is that word sticking to my brain?

“Yeah. I’m too invested in my career for the drama, anyway." Mindy gathers the garbage from our meal, smiles at me, recuperating within seconds, as if there'd been nothing to be upset about. "Hey, it’s Saturday. Wanna take advantage that we aren’t swamped with work and go to a bar after this? We haven’t partied in so long. The alcohol might help burn off the fat from these amazing burgers and fries.”

“Um… I don’t know.”

“Come on. Help a girl forget the ex-asshole?” She sticks out her bottom lip, looking comically pitiful, which makes me chuckle.

“Okay, but not a dance club 'cause I’m not dressed for it like you.”

“Fine, fine.”

At the Bar

Everything in the bar is black, including the slab of marble holding our drinks. Trust fund babies roam around in elegant clothing while a mix of pop and foreign music plays in the background. I like the atmosphere although I never feel like I fit in places like these. Thank God for alcohol. It numbs the leftover pain and my anxieties. Even drunk, I don’t tell Mindy any of my concerns–especially because I don’t know if it’s all in my mind, but also because tonight is about her. Mindy makes me drink a fourth tequila shot and I’m gone. There’s no way back to sobriety unless I go straight to bed and sleep for eight hours. Now, I no longer care if I’m dressed sexy enough to go to a club. We end up dancing to Spanish music all night, sticking together even when we’re dancing with guys. Some time after, a guy named Fernando sweeps Mindy off her feet. She doesn’t dance with anyone else the rest of the night.

Fernando seems like a nice guy, but appearances are always deceiving. While dancing with a bunch of other guys, I see her giggling and having fun with him. Suddenly, Dr. Michaelson’s sky-blue eyes run through my memory. I catch myself wishing he were there to dance with me.Unbelievable.I roll my eyes at myself.

Mindy’s snoring wakes me on Sunday past noon. We’re both still wearing last night’s clothes on my bed, the disgusting aroma of cigarettes and alcohol on us. Yuck. How did we make it home? God, I hope we didn’t drive.

“Mindy?”

“Hmm?” She moans with her eyes still closed.

“Wake up. You hungry?”

“Oh Jesus, how much tequila did we drink?” She grimaces while holding her head.

“I lost count after ten. How did we get home?” I ask her and sit up trying to figure out how sick I'm feeling.

“Taxi.”

“Oh thank God. I thought maybe you drove.”

“I’m crazy, not suicidal.”

I chuckle and turn my face to watch her slowly sit up. “We need to eat or we’ll get sick soon.”

“Alright, brunch is on me,” she says.

“Let me shower first.” I get out of bed and head for my bathroom while she sits up, looking as if she’s lost.

“No way. Let's just brush our teeth. I need food yesterday.”

During brunch, we hardly talk as we eat, and drink enough water to satiate a garden, before taking aspirin for the splitting headaches. I vow to never drink Tequila again.

After we pick up the car from the bar’s parking lot, we are out of energy, so we watch Bridgerton ‘til eight p.m, on my couch, where we lounge around with half eaten snacks scattered on the coffee table. When Mindy stretches and gets up from the couch, my heart sinks because I know she’s about to leave. The fun is over and I’m going to be all alone to sleep. The thought of being by myself makes me feel lonely and there's an overwhelming fear that rises from the pit of my stomach, a chill that I can't shake. Goosebumps rise on my arms. It doesn't help that I have to get up to go to a job where I hate everyone. I push all these thoughts and sensations away because I don't want her to worry about me.

“Alright girl. Maybe we can get together again next week and this time,planto go dancing?” she asks.

“Yeah. Thanks for everything. Keep me posted on what happens with Tom.”

“He’s out. I think I’ll call that guy from last night in a day or two. He’s been leaving me texts all day.”She smiles while lifting her cellphone and shaking it.

“Fernando?” I ask, surprised.

She shrugs her right shoulder and I mirror the gesture while still sitting, looking up at her. “Life is short. Why not text him tonight?”

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