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“I don’t think you’re supposed to use that word anymore,” Petra announces and drinks her tequila shot before shuddering for a very long time. “I just remembered I don’t like tequila. I think I’ll try vodka.”
“You shouldn’t mix alcohol,” I warn, winning frowns from everyone except Hunter who aggressively nods.
“Are you the designated driver?” Yvette asks when Hunter keeps watching over everyone’s drink order.
“God no. I’m just trying to keep things sane, so I won’t get punched in the face again.”
“What bitch punched you?” Petra sneers and then laughs at her voice’s weird pitch.
“Carys got in a fight with a skank.”
Carys slams her hands flat on the table. “I’ve got to speak my truth. Silencing me is like silencing a prophet.”
“Your knowledge is legendary,” Petra insists and smiles in a sloppy way.
“Yeah, but you’re pregnant, so I can’t allow a bitch to punch you,” Hunter explains and sips her Jello shot. “I took that punch, and I’ll take another one tonight if you start shit.”
“Not if but when, sug,” Siobhan insists. “Carys has been in a weird mood all day.”
“Try carrying this kid.”
Siobhan glares at her older sister. “I carried two at the same time.”
“Yeah, six years ago. You don’t even remember.”
The sisters flip each other off while Hunter takes a sip of Carys’s drink. “Is this lemonade spiked?”
“No, bitch. Stop hassling me,” Carys snaps and glares at Hunter. “Think you can take me? Be warned, this kitty has claws.”
“If you weren’t pregnant, I’d already have you on the floor, begging for mercy.”
Carys snorts. “Yeah, probably. I can’t beat your butch moves.” Then, she eases out of her chair and goes to hug Hunter. “Thank you for getting punched to protect me.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“No, this is a preemptive hug for when I get you punched later,” Carys explains and sits back down. “I’m feeling hormonal tonight, and I can’t even get wasted like you whores.”
Siobhan ignores her sister’s threats and hugs me. “You’re home,” she says and nuzzles my hair. “I missed you.”
“Hey, you never said what happened with the dad from the girls’ school. How did drinks go?”
Siobhan narrows her eyes and snarls. “The asshole showed up and announced he was only interested in me for his own sexual pleasure. He apologized for wasting my time and left. Without a doubt, one of my brothers got to him. Probably Indigo, that puritan motherfucker.”
Hugging her, I gently drop some logic on my bestie. “I know you’re bummed, but the guy was going through a divorce. I bet he’d spend most of the date bitching about his ex.”
“You’re right, but I still want to be able to make mistakes with bad men like every other woman. Why must I be forced to live a solitary life until my Mister Right appears? I want to whore shit up, too.”
“After the wedding, when things quiet down, I’ll be your wingman. I promise we’ll hit up places without any bikers interfering.”
“I’ve always adored your naivety,” Siobhan murmurs and hugs me.
We continue to hug each other through Carys requesting the DJ change the music from pop to country. Meanwhile, Yvette talks about Claw’s tongue and how he refers to her as his butterfly.
“I came out of a cocoon or some shit,” she tries to explain. “I’m a beauty or something. I never really understood, but it sounded nice.”
“You need therapy,” Petra insists. “I’m going to see a therapist to help me deal with my bad marriage.”
“What the fuck makes you think my marriage is bad, bitch?” Yvette hollers, startling me out of my hug with Siobhan.
