Page 24 of Hale Yes
“Happy birthday!” Artie yells into my face on the sidewalk outside the Butterfly Martini Bar in Manhattan. Then he grabs me around the waist and squeezes me tightly.
“My turn to hug the birthday girl,” Lehra, my other best friend, announces, pulling him away and embracing me herself. My friends are very huggy, and it took me a while to get used to that when I met them a few years ago. For a while, I did this weirdly stiff shoulder pat thing, but they just kept hugging me every time I saw them. And now I relish the affection these two dole out and even return it.
“Thank you both,” I laugh as Lehra releases me. “You smell amazing.”
She sniffs her own wrist. “I do, don’t I? It’s one of Hale Cosmetics’ fragrances. As soon as you told me you accepted the job offer, I went out and bought a bunch of their products insupport.” Lehra purses her lips, showing off a pretty peach lip gloss that suits her flawless pale skin. “Got this too.”
“Great color on you,” I tell her as we enter the bar, which also serves the best comfort food. The dim entryway is almost like a grotto, the darkness offset by neon-colored butterflies hanging from the low ceiling. I love this place.
“Can we be in Charmaine’s section?” Artie asks the hostess, and a minute later, we’re being seated in a round, purple leather booth.
“My husband texted that he’ll be a couple minutes late. He was tied up in a meeting,” Lehra tells me once we’re settled. There’s that H-word again, and I freaking love how excited she is about being married to Cruz.
I met Lehra a few years ago during my dermatology residency at Columbia. My chief resident invited a few of the residents to attend a charity event at our hospital, and Lehra was there with a group from Bouvier, the fashion company where she works. We were seated beside each other at dinner and immediately hit it off. A week later, she introduced me to her friend, Artie, and they became my people.
“Let’s see what I want today,” I say as I pick up the card with the drink specials.
“You’re drinking during lunch on a workday?” Artie questions in surprise because I would normally never do that. Drinking and working in a laboratory don’t mix.
My lips roll into a smirk. “This morning I handed in my resignation, and Joyce panicked. Told me she would see about getting me more money and then went all conciliatory.” I raise my voice to replicate Joyce’s annoying tone.“Gosh, you should take the rest of the day off since it’s your birthday, Dr. Bell. No, really. I insist.”
Artie strokes his ginger beard. “Isn’t that the same chick who griped when you were doing mercury testing and wanted to know what the planets had to do with cosmetics?”
I laugh. “Yep, that’s her. I honestly felt relieved when I handed her the resignation letter. I think this is the right move for me.”
“I agree,” Lehra says, but her smile holds a hint of sadness. “It’s bittersweet though because we’re going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I tell her honestly. I didn’t have a ton of friends in school because I was so much younger than my classmates. Lehra and Artie taught me how to give and receive unconditional friendship, and that’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.
“We’ll just hijack the Bouviers’ private plane and come visit you,” Artie suggests with a flourish of his hand, like that settles it.
“I’m pretty sure that would get Lehra fired from her job,” I remark. Lehra recently took over as the personal assistant for CEO Auburn Bouvier when his previous one retired.
Charmaine approaches and greets us before asking, “What can I getcha?”
“Gimlet and the house salad,” I say, smiling up at her.
Lehra tilts her head and hums. “Ummmm, a Moscow mule for me and a sweet tea for my hubby. We’ll split a large order of the Irish nachos.”
Charmaine turns to a smirking Artie. “And what will your crazy ass have?”
“Loaded fries and…” He pauses dramatically. “A dirty martini.”
Our server puffs out a breath and a weary, “How dirty?”
His grin turns wicked. “I want it to betwo syphilitic sheep fucking in an outhousedirty.”
“Jesus, where do you come up with this shit?” she mutters, though her lips are twitching in amusement as she wends her way through the tables and back to the kitchen.
“I think we’re her favorite diners,” Artie announces, opening his satchel and pulling out a slightly wrinkled gift bag. “For you, babe. It’s from all three of us.”
“I’m here,” Cruz announces, setting down the box in his hand, squeezing his big body in beside Lehra, and gripping her chin before giving her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. “Hi, wife.”
“Hi, husband,” she coos. They stare at each other like the world would end if they looked away.
“Dear god, cut it out! I’m getting the diabetes just from watching you two,” Artie whines, and the couple finally breaks eye contact with self-deprecating chuckles.
“Cruz, have you heard from Gianna or Auburn today?” I ask. “She called me yesterday to say she can’t make it for lunch because the baby is sick.” Gianna is married to Auburn Bouvier, and their daughter, Eliana, is only a few months old.
