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“You’re a dead man, Tanner,” Enzo says, not that I need that assessment.
I unwittingly make eye contact with Enzo and, knowing I stepped in it pretty good this time, attempt to get a smile out of him anyway. “That went well.”
5
Ada
“There she is,” Karlene says cheerfully, “the woman of the hour.”
Which is a nice thing to hear, except I regretted coming out the moment I opened the door. This isn’t an ordinary Saturday night at The Tap & Grill, our favorite hangout, and there’s an abundance of Mardi Gras beads and mini penis straws to prove it.
I’m much too exhausted for this kind of scene. Besides, this is a bachelorette party for a bride I hardly know. She’s an old friend of Karlene’s, and though we’ve met a few times, she lives in Islip and doesn’t come around that often.
“Hardly,” I answer, waving hello to Timmy, the bartender.
“I already have your drink,” Karlene says as I approach the group.
“You’re a gem,” I say, taking the vodka and club from her. “Thanks.”
“Stacey, you’ve met Ada before.”
I hug the bride-to-be, careful not to spill my vodka all over her or mess with her veil.
“Congratulations. Almost. The wedding is next month, I hear?”
Her huge smile tells me this isn’t their first pit stop, which I already knew from Karlene. To be honest, the only reason I’m here is that Kar dragged the whole damn bachelorette party to my favorite bar, claiming I couldn’t say no if they were only two blocks away.
Which was a fair point.
“Yep, Saturday the 20th,” Stacey says.
She catches me looking at her very unique straw. “I told them, no veil. No penises. No stripper.”
“Two out of three.” I laugh. “Someone doesn’t listen very well.”
“I’m fully expecting a naked man at some point.” She lowers her voice. “But it’s fine. I didn’t really mean it.”
I laugh. “So what’s the plan for the rest of the night?”
Karlene jumps in. “We’ll stay here long enough to convince you to come to Flashbacks.”
“In the Meatpacking District?”
Stacey flags someone down at the entrance. “Yep. Please come?”
As much as I love to dance, I hadn’t planned on staying out all night. Coming into a new account at this point means working weekends.
“I’d love to, but . . .”
The bride-to-be cocks her head to the side and gives me a plaintive look. Literally gives me big eyes as her friends look on.
“Are you serious? You’re giving me puppy dog eyes right now,” I tease. Turning to Karlene, I say, “Where did you find her?”
Both women know I’m done for, as if I’d say no to the bride. Which is how I find myself three vodkas later, my hair in desperate need of a hair tie after dancing at Flashbacks to four ’80s songs in a row.
By now, I’m glad Kar dragged me out.
“I need a break,” I shout to her.
