Page 52 of I Love to Hate You
Samantha and I each grab one of Kendrick’s arms and pull him away from the bar, forcing him toward the VIP section upstairs. As we walk, I don't even have time to marvel at how awesome it was for Kendrick to do that for me, because when I look over my shoulder, both men are now standing at the bar and watching us intently as we walk away.
Thirty-Three
~ MAYA~
“To giving our first pitches as interns,” Samantha yells as she holds up a shot glass full of whiskey. “And to Kendrick and Maya absolutely crushing it. Cheers, everybody!”
“Cheers!” we all scream in unison, before slapping the bottoms of our glasses on the round table between us and slamming back the shots.
My throat burns as the liquid slithers its way down, but it feels so good to have the liquor hit my stomach and numb away a bit of my frustration. This has been the most rollercoaster day I’ve had in a long time. After giving the pitch with Kendrick and feeling like everything was going well, my father took all of the greatness into his palm and crushed it with one flex of his fingers. I cried almost the entire drive here, just to meet with my friends and be assaulted by an asshole at the bar. I should've immediately punched him in the face, but I held it back because I didn't want to ruin the night. This is supposed to be a celebration, but what I feel more than anything is disappointment and irritation. It’s almost as if I’m not allowed to be happy. My life is cursed and no matter how good things look, the ugly truth is always just beneath the surface, ready to reach up and drag me back down again.
I’ve never been into self-loathing. In fact, I always abhorred girls in college who only had self-deprecating things to say. It was like they only liked themselves when some boy liked them, too, and it irked the hell out of me. I vowed to never be like that, even on mornings when my father was being the absolute shittiest version of himself. While I can admit that I took my frustrations out on people who probably didn't deserve it, I never asked anybody to feel sorry for me. I never needed anyone’s sympathy and would lash out if I felt like they were giving it to me. Tonight is really no different, but I’ve matured a bit since college and have a lot more to lose with my internship, so lashing out at people isn’t the way to go. Instead, I’m going to drown my sorrows in whiskey, and hopefully by the time I’m feeling good and buzzed, I’ll have forgotten about the father I have to go home to and the asshole who put his hands on me to start the night. Maybe all I’ll be thinking about is Kendrick, and perhaps he’ll be thinking about me, too.
“Let’s take another one!” I bellow after only sixty seconds have passed since the last shot. Everyone in the group looks at me funny, but slowly their heads begin to nod.
“Fuck it, I’m down,” says Samantha, followed by a hand gesture from Chad.
“Let’s do it. This is a celebration, isn’t it? Let’s turn all the way up and get lit,” he says, and although I cringe at the mention of getting lit, I laugh it away and motion to the bottle girl who’s still close to us. She saunters back over with a smile and leans down so she can hear me.
“Six more shots for us, please. Whatever whiskey you brought us before, just run it back,” I tell her.
She chuckles as she walks away to grab our drinks, and I pick up my glass of whiskey and Coke and take a sip of it. Everyone else at the table leaves their drinks where they are, but I don't care. After one shot and a few sips of my cocktail, I can already feel a buzz approaching like a car with its lights on in the night. It’s roaring full speed ahead, and I’m standing right in the middle of the street ready to be pummeled.
“Chad, how the hell did you get us into VIP, man?” Kendrick yells across the table.
Chad, who’s seated with his back to the gold railing behind him, smiles as he lifts his bottle of beer. “It pays to have connections, bro. What can I say? I’m a somebody.”
“Somebody who’s powerful enough to get us into VIP at Club Asylum?” Derek asks with a raised eyebrow. “Almost sounds like you're somebody who we’re aiding and abetting.”
Samantha and Erica giggle while Kendrick’s face stays straight.
“Seriously, bro. You know who runs this place, right?” he asks.
“Who doesn't?” Chad answers. “If you're from Philly, you know who Solomon King is.”
“I’m from Strawberry Mansion,” Kendrick says.
Everyone in the group’s eyes widen. “Oh, so youreallyknow who he is,” Samantha quips with a giggle.
Kendrick lifts his glass and takes a sip before setting it back down. I notice that whatever he's drinking definitely didn’t burn his throat on the way down.
“Yeah, he was like my idol growing up,” Kendrick admits as he sets his glass back down. “Even though he’s a known gangster, all of us worshiped him because it was like he made it out of a situation the rest of us were stuck in. My friend, Simon, lived his entire life trying to be like Solomon King, and I was trying to be like both of them, but that life isn’t as easy as the legend of Solomon makes it seem, so I ended up going to college and doing an internship with you guys.”
“Well, we’re glad you did,” Samantha says.
“And how did things turn out for your friend?” Derek asks.
Kendrick’s mood instantly slumps. All emotion drains from his face and his eyes drop to his lap and stay there until the bottle girl comes back to the table with a gold tray covered in shot glasses.
“It’s shot time again,” she announces, pulling all eyes onto her as she leans forward and places each glass on the table. Once she walks away, I immediately pick up a glass and hold it in the air while everyone else hesitates.
“What are y’all waiting on?” I chirp. “Lift them up and let’s go.” Reluctantly, all of the interns pick up their glasses and hold them in the air. “So, this one is to those assholes at the bar downstairs who tried to give me shit just for wanting to order drinks, and to Kendrick who swooped in like Black Panther to save me. Here’s to my superhero.”
Samantha’s eyes bulge as she looks around the table at everyone else, who look just as shocked as her. Even Kendrick’s eyes widen, but he smiles nervously and lifts his glass higher.
“To me, I guess,” he says, making everyone laugh.
“Fuck it. To Kendrick,” Samantha screams.
