“Stop fidgeting,” Veronica scolded, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass. “You look like you’re about to rob the place.”
“I feel like I’m about to fall out of this dress,” Debbie hissed back, acutely aware of the many eyes that had watched them cross the bar. She wasn’t used to being looked at; at least not like this.
“It’s a power move,” Veronica said, her eyes scanning the room like a general planning an attack. She was in her element, elegant and confident in a red dress that managed to be both sophisticated and alluring without looking like it was trying too hard. “And stop pulling down the hem. Guys are suckers for legs. It’s part of the plan.”
“What plan? Operation Mortify Debbie?” She shifted uncomfortably on her borrowed heels, which were already causing her calves to cramp. “Because if that’s the goal, we’re succeeding spectacularly.”
“Operation: Make Tony See You as a Sexual Being,” Veronica corrected her. “If we’re gonna get him thinking about you romantically, the first thing we need to do is get him thinking about you as more than just a comfortable sweatshirt he’s known since second grade.”
Debbie recoiled slightly. “So I should do what? Show up at his door naked?”
Veronica actually paused to consider this. “Hmm... naw. Good idea in theory, but you’d probably be blushing so much you’d pass out. We need to ease you into this.”
“I was kidding,” Debbie said, not sure if Veronica caught the sarcasm in her naked question. “V, this isn’t me. I don’t do the ‘look-at-me’; I do the ‘are these clothes clean and comfy’.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Veronica said, signaling a passing waiter for drinks. “You’ve been ‘you’ around Tony for fifteen years, and where has it gotten you? Friend-zoned with a capital F. We need to shake things up with a ‘shock and awe’ campaign that shows Tony there’s more to Debbie Campbell than the girl next door who trips over her own shadow.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Veronica cut her off firmly. “Trust the process. I’ve helped at least three friends get out of the friend zone, and one of them is married now. To the guy who used to call her ‘bro’.”
Debbie winced. Tony had called her ‘dude’ just last week. Maybe Veronica had a point.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Veronica said, her plan now fully formed as the waiter set two pink cocktails in front of them. “I’ll pick out a guy, and you’ll go up and practice flirting with him. A dry run.”
Debbie picked up her drink and took a desperate swig, needing the liquid courage. It tasted like someone had melted a strawberry Starburst candy into grain alcohol. “Practice flirting,” she repeated flatly. “With a stranger.”
“Exactly. Test drive your feminine wiles.”
Debbie nearly choked. “I have feminine wiles?”
“All girls do. Yours are just a little more dormant than most. Kinda like a volcano that hasn’t erupted in a while, but still has all the lava beneath the surface.”
“You’re saying I could destroy a small Italian village.”
Veronica thought about it. “You’re right. Bad analogy. I forgot who I was talking to.”
“No. I think you probably had it right.” Debbie took another deep swig of her drink.
Veronica scanned the bar, her gaze sweeping past several tables of interchangeable finance bros before landing on a target of perfect opportunity. He was a macho lounge lizard right out ofthe 80s, complete with a thick Tom Selleck mustache and pastel Miami Vice sports coat. He sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink that glowed an unnatural blue under the mood lighting.
“And we’ve got our first victim,” Veronica said. “See the guy with the mustache over at the bar? Mr. Peacock?”
Debbie followed her gaze, nearly choking on her pink abomination of a cocktail. “Uhm, yeah...?”
“He’s your target.”
“No way,” Debbie balked, almost spitting up her drink. “He looks like a pimp.”
“He’s perfect,” Veronica countered. “Low stakes. Zero emotional investment. You’re not here to actually pick him up. You’re just here to test-drive your flirting. Think of him as a training wheel. You crash and burn with him, who cares? You’ll never see him again.”
“I don’t know,” Debbie said, tugging again at her hemline that seemed to creep up every time she wasn’t paying attention. “I’m really not good at this kind of thing. I’m more of a fumble awkwardly and make self-deprecating jokes until someone takes pity on me kind of flirter.”
“And where’s that gotten you?” Veronica said. “I’ll answer that — friend-zoned. And to get you out of that, we need this ‘shock and awe’ campaign. And stop hiding your legs.”
Debbie bit her bottom lip and let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll try this.”
“Good.” Veronica reached into her purse and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. “Now here, take this.” She juggled one out and handed it to Debbie.