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Standing next to Mindy in the elevator, I wished I’d said no and stayed home. My idea of the perfect birthday celebration was pajamas, pizza, whiskey and coke, and aLord of the Ringsmarathon. Not the club scene.
I knew I was too young to be this jaded about college nightlife, but I couldn’t help it. The party scene simply felt old and tired.
Maybe it was because I was anold soul,as Dad always told me. Maybe it was because I’d suffered a tragic loss at a young age, making the pastime of drinking till you drop seem rather a waste of time. Or maybe I just didn’t want to sweat out the night in a packed club while strange guys groped me.
Either way, it didn’t matter. I loved my best friend, and she’d refused to let me sit home on my birthday like I’d wanted to. So here I was.
I glared down at her since I was about a foot taller. She beamed back with a syrupy-sweet smile.
“Oh, come on, Gen. Don’t be so grumpy. Tonight, I want you torelax. Nothing else to worry about. Just have fun.”
Her baby blues pleaded with me to loosen up.
“Nothing to worry about,” I exhaled a deep breath on a semi-smile. “Fun. Got it.”
“Awesome. Now let’s go celebrate!”
We were total opposites in just about every way. She was petite, slender, and tan. I had inherited my height and dark hair from my dad. But my milk-pale skin and ice-blue eyes came from my mother.
“Stop brooding,” muttered Mindy.
“I’m not.”
Right before the elevator doors opened, Mindy shifted and glanced sideways under long lashes. A telltale sign of guilt I recognized from our long friendship.
“What? What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she protested too innocently. “Just that I forgot to mention that Steven is coming with us.”
The elevator dinged. The door opened.
“You didnotset me up on a date tonight,” I grated out.
“No, I promise! Not a date. He just wanted to come along. As a friend. That’s all.”
I eyed her with suspicion. “Whatever. But I am not on a date. This is my night, remember?”
“Yes, of course!”
She hooked her arm through mine as we entered the lobby of her mother’s upscale New Orleans condo. I was still surprised by what an unemployed divorcee could afford, but then there was always an endless stream of wealthy men in this city willing to bestow treasures on attractive, charming women.
We waltzed into the lobby, arm in arm, clip-clopping across white marble to a set of gold brocade sofas. Her boyfriend, Dazzling Dave, jumped up along with his buddy, Slippery Steve. Monikers I gave them and kept to myself so that it wouldn’t hurt Mindy’s feelings.
“Ladies, ladies. You two look divine.”
He gave us his signature smile, beaming his super-straight and over-bleached teeth. Yet again, I longed for my pj’s and Jim Beam and Viggo Mortensen.
“Hi, David,” Mindy gushed, instantly gluing herself to his side.
Steven stepped up, eyeing me from top to toe. “Hello, Gen. You look awesome. Ready to celebrate?”
“Hey, Steven. Thanks. Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I tried not to grind my teeth as we pushed through the glass doors into the night. Steven and I had a failed blind date nearly a month ago. I hadn’t realized that watching a Will Ferrell comedy in the dark was a contact sport—not until I went out with Slippery Steve.
The ride downtown from the Garden District in David’s convertible definitely lightened my mood. Cool night air hinted at autumn. Canal Street buzzed with life. Neon lights blazed from one end to the other, highlighting everything from liquor stores to Commander’s Palace.
