Page 5 of Love & Other Disasters

“Yeah…”

Buzzed and starving the puzzle pieces came together in her mind. This new guy was Brent and Frat Guy was his college friend, the man that they’d planned to meet. Violet clenched her fists, heart palpitating, and it took every ounce of self-control to remain seated. Elle turned wide-eyed and introduced Violet to Brent.

“I’m Katia,” she heard herself say. Holy cow, she was in so much trouble.

Elle excused herself to the powder room and Violet followed.

“Omigod, Omigod, Omigod,” she chanted after the door closed behind them. “I’m going out the bathroom window. Tell them I had a migraine or fell in or whatever…”

“You’re not going out the window. It’s okay,” Elle said, checking the stalls. Empty.

“How is it okay? We gave Frat Guy a fake name, and now he’s friends with your boyfriend and might be moving here.”

“When you’re our age, boyfriend is such a weird term. I like date or significant other.”

“How is that helping?”

“Sorry,” she shrugged. “It’s all good. He only said he was thinking about moving here. There’s a high probability he won’t, and even if he does, Nashville’s a big town, and you’ll never see him.”

“And if you and Brent go out with friends or have parties, I’ll either not come along, or change my name.”

“You’re jumping way ahead of yourself here,” Elle said. “We still have the same situation. You’re going out there, being someone else, and having a lot of fun with it. Pretend like it’s one of those plays you performed back in college.”

Violet took a deep breath and released it through puffed cheeks. Her buzz had disappeared. “You know I was a terrible actress, right?”

“No, you were amazing,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Wait, did you ever tell Brent who you were bringing along tonight?”

“I don’t remember,” she chewed her lip. “If I did, he doesn’t remember, either. So we’re set.” She pulled a lipstick from her purse and reapplied. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t do this.” A million migrating butterflies in her stomach replaced her buzz.

“You want to go out there and tell them the truth?”

“God, no.”

“Then, what choice do we have? And don’t you dare say window,” she pointed at Violet.

Damn it. Defeated, she nodded, took another deep breath, letting it pass through puffed lips, and followed Elle out the door.

Members of the staff were delivering plates of food to the table and her hunger had disappeared along with the buzz. But she needed sustenance because she wouldn’t survive the rest of the evening stone sober. Brent and Frat Guy stood at their arrival. Men still did that? Brent, who’d shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, helped Elle with her seat.

Violet slid onto the black booth seat with the plush brown back, and had to admit they were a classy looking group. Thanks to Elle’s dress and makeup magic, she looked elegant. On a normal day, however, she was someone Frat Guy wouldn’t think twice about or recognize. The waiter returned and asked if they needed anything, and Violet requested a drink menu.

“Elle’s been ordering my drinks, and now it’s my turn,” she smiled and took the offered menu. “Let’s see,” Violet scanned the selections and pretended not to notice that Frat Guy leaned in, reading the menu over her shoulder. A light, musky cologne lingered when he moved. Two things came to mind one was that Elle had skipped the classic side of the drink menu, and two, it was difficult to think with him in her space.

“I can’t wait,” Elle said.

“Make it good,” Frat Guy said in her ear. His accent didn’t sound Georgian, but she wouldn’t ask. Personal questions would beget personal questions, and she’d stay as far away from that as possible.

“Oh, I have it.”

He flagged down the waiter and deferred to Violet to order first.

“I’ll have a French 75, and my friend will have the Monkey Gland.” Violet grinned at Elle, who stuck her tongue out; then shook her head, smiling. The guys roared with laughter.

“Another scotch,” Frat Guy ordered between laughter. “You need anything?” he asked Brent.

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