Page 10 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

“Nope. I’ve already signed the non-disclosure.”

“Non-disclosure?” Cate says. “What kind of business do you own?”

“I’m a communications consultant—mainly crisis stuff. Companies call me when something goes wrong. I can never talk about it.”

“No one wants to talk about it tonight,” Savannah sighs. “We’re at a bachelorette party, not a business forum. And I think it’s time we play a little game.” She sweeps her hand in the air as our waiter sets a bottle of tequila right in the middle of our table.

“No!” I slam my back against the chair. “I am not playing Truth or Tequila tonight. Hell no!”

“Oh, really?” Savannah laughs. “Because I seem to remember a pact we made when we graduated that we’d play it five more times at each of our bachelorette parties.”

“Maisie!” I look at her—my eyes pleading.

She holds my hand. “Soph, we did make a pact—”

“We played it at my bachelorette, then at Tay’s, then Serena’s, and now at Maisie’s.” Savannah’s folding her fingers down to count each one until only one finger’s remaining up—her middle finger. She holds it up to me. “And if you can ever find a man to marry you, then we’ll play it at yours.”

“Do I even want to ask what Truth or Tequila is?” Cate looks justifiably worried.

“No, you don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “Unfortunately, we’ve been playing it since our first week of college. It’s theMean Girlsversion of Truth or Dare.”

“That’s why Sophie always wins,” Savannah says, screwing off the top of the tequila bottle. “Mean girl to the core.”

“Please. You’re the only mean girl at this table. I just haven’t met a dare that I won’t do. No matter how hard you try to come up with one.”

“So there are dares in the game?” Cate’s eyes are racing around the table.

Maisie puts her hand on Cate’s shoulder. “Basic rules: You choose between telling someone the truth or doing a shot of tequila. The twist is that these bitches,” she says, pointing around the table, “get to choose who you tell the truth to and what the truth is. The goal is to make the truth so awful that you force your opponents to drink.”

“That sounds horrible,” Cate says. “Can they make something up that you have to tell someone?”

“Oh no. We don’t have to make stuff up,” Maisie says. “We tell each other way too much about how we feel about exes, friends, and family. This game capitalizes on that.”

Cate laughs. “Well none of you know that much about me, so I can probably win—”

“I know enough about you.” Maisie sits back and peers over her sunglasses. “Like how you hate your sister’s husband. How’d you like to call Sarah and tell her that?”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” Maisie laughs. “It’s part of the game. And I can use that truth every time it’s your turn, so you either have to call her or drink.”

Cate shakes her head and frowns. “So when does the game end? Or does everyone just drink tequila all night?”

“You don’t want to get drunk because when the group determines you’re too drunk to have another shot, then you have to perform a dare that, of course, the group gets to choose. The game ends when someone completes a dare.”

“So if Sophie always wins, I guess she can hold more tequila than the rest of you.”

Everyone collapses on the table laughing except for Cate and me.

Savannah lifts her head just enough to spit out, “Sophie’s the biggest lightweight ever. She can’t hold anything. It’s why she doesn’t want to play.”

“I don’t want to play because we’re grown-ass women now, and the only reason you never get drunk is because you have absolutely no filter.” I shove the table toward her. She looks up again. “The last time we played you told your mother-in-law that her breath smelled.”

“Well, it does,” she says, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Yeah, and now the poor woman eats so many Altoids, her teeth are going to rot out by the time she’s sixty.”

“This game sounds horrible,” Cate groans. “How do we make it end quickly?”

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