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Millie rolls her eyes then grabs me by the shoulders and turns me away from her. “If you’re going to get drinks, then go get drinks. If not, then I’ll go myself.”
I turn my head to look over my shoulder as I start to walk away, “As you wish.” I wink at her.
She’s shaking her head, but she’s smiling, and it’s my favorite thing that has happened all night.
I return with our drinks, and we pass the time people-watching, mostly sitting in silence. Occasionally Millie points out people that she knows, but mostly we are watching awkward flirting and failed passes. By now, most of the married couples have left for the night, leaving a rough-looking crowd who are all a few too many drinks in to be making any sort of responsible decisions.
Millie points towards the bar. “Look at that couple.”
I look over and see a man who is presumably in his mid-to-late fifties with a scantily clad woman clinging onto him who has to be at least 25 years his junior.
“Is that really what men want?” Millie says, almost disgusted. “There isn’t a part of her that is real.”
I’m a little taken back. Millie is usually the first person to rally other women and is certainly not the type to look for anything negative to say. “I’m sensing some hostility.”
“It’s not hostility,” she states matter-of-factly. “It’s just, whatever happened to admiring someone for their mind over their body?”
“Can’t both be admired?”
She scoffs, “Not in my experience. It’s all talk. Sure, you say you want someone who is real and has a mind of her own, but as soon as some bare-legged Barbie doll in a short skirt comes walking by then it’s goodbye reliable and hello fake bake bimbo.”
I instantly remember that idiot boyfriend she had a few years ago. The one that had her in tears after they broke up. The one that left two days before Christmas to go on some vacation with another woman. Even the thought of the pain he put her through makes me want to hunt him down and pummel him to the ground.
“You’re giving me judgy face.”
I take a drink while I decide my next words. “I’m not judging.”
“Yes, you are,” she argues. “But I can’t expect someone who dated Corporate Barbie to understand.”
The disdain in her eyes makes the green around the iris blaze, overpowering the blue.
I take my napkin and wave it in surrender. “I didn’t mean to start a war.”
Her eyes soften. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I agreed. “But I will admit, Natasha wasn’t my best decision.”
Though I will defend myself on one point: it wasn’t all about her looks for me.
“That’s her name! I just called her Evil Elsa.”
I snort, and I start coughing, choking on my drink.
Millie purses her lips trying not to laugh.
“Have to admit, that is a new one.”
“Maybe to you, but trust me, the rest of us had plenty of names for her.”
“Of course you did! And what about you with what’s-his-name, Jeans Boy!” I mock.
Millie is the one to choke this time. “Denham?”
“That’s what I said.”
She hiccups.
“How about a truce? I think we’ve both had some bad judgment in the past.”
