Page 2 of Draft Pick

“Cussed like a sailor and smoked like a felon with nothing to lose. God, I miss that woman.”

“RIP,” I murmured in solidarity.

Darby shook off the brief heartbeat of nostalgia, saying, “Tonight is all about shaking off the past like a bad dream and embracing the future. You’re the shit, girl, and it’s time you start realizing it. You’re blond, beautiful, with banging curves. There’s no way we’re starting our senior year in college anchored by stupid men. In fact, I think we ought to swear off men entirely and find ourselves girlfriends. Let’s embrace the stereotype and explore our sexuality before life leaches the adventure out of us.”

My face screwed into a skeptical frown. “Become a lesbian? I don’t think that’s for me.” I was all for shaking off the shackles of Derek’s hold on me but switching teams wasn’t on the agenda. “You go for it, though. I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.”

Darby laughed. “Eh, I’m not sure it’s for me either but I guess you don’t know unless you try.”

“I have a vagina. I don’t need to play with someone else’s.”

“Yeah, fair point,” she conceded, squealing and motioning toward our friends to join us.

Evie, Lark, and Sloane crossed the crowded floor, joining our table. Even though I hadn’t been excited about spending my evening in a local bar away from the usual San Jose State campus haunts, I was happy to see the girls.

“There she is!” Evie exclaimed, wrapping me in a tight hug like the spicy Latina she was. “You’ve practically disappeared from life! I was starting to worry that you’d transferred schools or something.”

“Yeah, we were about to require proof of life from your roommate if we didn’t hear from you soon,” Lark said, pausing to tie up her long red hair in a messy bun. “What are we drinking tonight?”

“Me and Darby started off with tequila shots, but we’ve both ordered beer,” I answered, returning to the subject of my roommate, “And good luck with that, she’s never home these days. I think she might be an escort or something,” I admitted, the tequila shot loosening my tongue. My roommate, Danielle, rarely appeared around the apartment, but she had designer clothes and drove a sports car. Also, as far as I could tell, she didn’t have a job either. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but unless she’d fallen into a trust fund situation, all signs pointed to something involving paid time with wealthy men. “No judgment from me, get that bag, sis,” I said, shrugging.

“That’s the gig I want,” Sloane decided. “Tell her to help a sister out. How do I get started? I mean, safely, of course. I definitely don’t want to end up locked in a basement somewhere.”

“Sloane, you’reloco. You want to be a hooker?” Evie said with an incredulous peal of laughter. “What would Bob say?”

Sloane waved away Evie’s question. “Bob-Shmob. I’m too young to be tied down. Besides, I think I might be polyamorous.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Although, last week, you were a sapiophile because you listened to one lecture by a guest professor who just happened to be hot,” I reminded her. Sloane was notorious for flitting from one idea to another. None of us took her seriously, and it was easier to nod and accept whatever she was latched onto.

“That’s different. I’m serious this time,” Sloane protested in between, motioning for the waitress for another round of drinks. “I resonate with the whole concept of loving multiple people. I mean, from an anthropological standpoint, we’re not meant to be monogamous.”

“I can totally see that working for you,” I said, tipping the waitress for my beer. “But you might want to let Bob off the hook before you do. He’s crazy about you and doesn’t seem the type to share.”

Sloane and Bob — the most mismatched duo if I’d ever seen one — but at least they were together. Bob adored her even though she fed him a steady diet of anxiety with her constant indecision and mood swings.

No matter what Sloane did, Bob would be there to cuddle her at night.

Ugh. No, I wasn’t going to do that. Darby was right; I’d spent long enough buried in my grief over my break up with Derek, and maybe it was the tequila starting to take hold, but I was ready to have a good time.

Derek hadn’t been the best of boyfriends. Why was I so bent about his leaving? Rejection sucked, no matter how you sliced it. And now…I hadissues. Before Derek, I hadn’t been insecure about myself, but now, I felt like damaged fruit.

Suddenly, my imperfections loomed large in my head, and the thought of getting naked with someone new filled me with dread.

Of course, I couldn’t admit this to Darby, or she’d bop me on the head for being dumb, but it was true. I guess I had to find a way to get over it, or else my senior year would be very dull, and I couldn’t let Derek think he’d won by breaking me into small pieces.

‘I will survive…’someone was singing the Gloria Gaynor classic, and it was going straight to my soul. Yeah, that’s right, I would survive and toss the memory of Derek and me in a box marked shit-to-be-forgotten.

Enough of the pity party.

The music was popping, my toes were tapping, and my friends were the absolute best, so what the hell, let’s tear this place down.

It’d been a while since I’d taken the stage. The second shot of liquid courage burned away my introverted nature, and I was humming under my breath. “What are we singing tonight?” I asked, breaking into the low-key squabbling between Sloane and Evie. “Old-school Britney? Or a tried-and-true classic, Love Shack by the B-52s?”

“I’m not drunk enough for that,” Darby said but gestured to me, “you don’t need us, you can actually sing. Go, take the stage while we take some more shots.”

A tremulous smile curved my lips as I eyed the stage. A karaoke bar was the only place I felt able to let loose. I’d never dare sing without the protection of a dimly lit bar, insulated by the diminished expectations of drunk patrons, but I missed belting out a few songs. Another casualty of Derek’s influence — he thought karaoke bars were cliche and played out.

“Starlie, it’s not like anyone’s going to get discovered in a karaoke bar,” Derek had said derisively one night when I’d begged him to go out with me so I could sing. “Karaoke is sad, babe.”

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