“Take a lime and shake your salt,” Stella said as she shook her ass for emphasis.
I held up my glass and announced, “Haley is a bitch.” We all slammed our first shot back.
Everly immediately began refilling while the rest of us grabbed our lime and salt.
“Men are assholes,” I proclaimed as I waved my glass in the air again, and everyone downed their second shot. “I feel like we need some J-Lo and Shakira in here.”
Sadie, one of the deputies, ran to the jukebox and searched for songs. When “Booty” came on, we all got into the rhythm and got two—or maybe five—more shots into us as well.
By the time we had listened to every Latin artist we could think of and I believed that I could now speak Spanish, my world was spinning. Not as in spinning out of control but spinning as in, the fucking room wouldn’t stop moving.
“Okay, pile into my car, I’ll take you all home,” Everly announced.
“Hey.” I patted her cheek. Everly grabbed my hand. Okay, maybe I patted a little too hard. “You can’t drive and drink.” I thought about what I had just said. “Um, I mean drink and drive.”
“I haven’t had a drink; I’ve been filling the glasses and watching you be crazy-ass fools.”
“No.” I shook my head, which made my stomach shake too. “Not crazy-ass fools, crazy over some asshole.”
“Night,” I hollered to everyone in Everly’s car.
“Night, sweetie,” Sadie called after me.
“Love you, bitch,” Stella boomed for my neighbors’ listening pleasure.
“There’s no crying in baseball,” Harley shouted.
“What?” I turned around and almost stumbled. “What?” I asked again.
“I don’t know. It sounded good to me when I said it.”
I paused and stared at Harley like the freak she could be. “You’re weird.”
“Nah, just drunk.”
I unlocked my door and stepped in, letting out a sigh of relief at finally being home. For some reason, I wanted to talk to Aaron, like now. I needed to hear his voice and tell him exactly how I felt.
Stumbling back to my bedroom while dialing him on the phone, I decided that I could multitask. I’d get ready for bed and talk.
“Hello?”
I paused for a second, waiting for the beep.
“Vivian?”
I slipped on my nightgown and then crawled onto my bed. “Aaron?”
A chuckle rang through my phone. “Yes, you called me.”
“Oh, I thought I would get your voicemail or something. I was wondering why it didn’t have a beep. Your voicemail does have a beep, doesn’t it? I have to ask because I don’t think I’ve ever left you a message before.”
“I think I have a beep, I’ve never called myself before. But enough about the beep, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“You hurt me. No, that isn’t it, you pissed me off. I was starting to like you, but you blew it. Vivian Leigh Haines does not give second chances.”
“Oh. I hate to hear that because while you may have been just starting to like me, I was starting to more than like you.”
“But you left me. I know you had an emergency, and I shouldn’t be upset because being upset when someone has an emergency is kind of a dick thing, but then it was nothing, nada, nothing but a text, that was all.” I leaned back and rested my head against the headboard. “Men kinda suck, you know? Or maybe it’s me. I can’t figure it out. I hadn’t let anyone in, not even an inch, since Eric died, and the first person I do is not for me. How fucked up is that, like really? You left me there to face that Haley-bitchface-Loles. She kept shoving a mic and camera in my face to see if I was the person you were smiling at and asking why you left. I hate the media, have I ever told you how much I hate the media?”
“No, why do you hate them?”
“They are bottom feeders. They think everyone’s business is their business. They forgot the basic human respect that there are times you need to leave people alone, like when you are trying to bury someone. They want to exploit your every emotion and reaction as if it is everyone’s business how you cry or when you rage against things that are happening. It’s messed up, seriously messed up.”
“Yeah, I agree. They are intrusive. I don’t mind when they ask about plays after a game, but when I’m not on the court, I’m a normal person. For the most part, they let me be a normal person. I would rather them interview a doctor and ask them how many lives they saved today, or a judge and ask how many dangerous criminals they got off the streets.” Aaron’s voice was like perfectly aged brandy, mellow, smooth, and hung in the air with languid notes.
“How about not even them? Politicians only. If you run for a public position, then you are offering yourself up to public opinion. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with crap like Haley Loles coming into my bar to bombard me with questions.”
“She showed up at your work? What happened? You okay?”
“Nothing.” I scoffed. “She shouted a bunch of questions, but you know my patrons. They weren’t putting up with her shit. But, yeah, I’m fine. Oh wait, do you have a secret family?”
“What?” He chuckled. “No, I don’t have a secret family.”
“No. Stop. Don’t lie to me.” Okay, I was two sheets to the wind, but even I could tell I sounded like a whiney-ass woman. “I saw some pictures. You were with a woman and a girl; the girl looks just like you.”
“Some people that I had a very close bond to were killed in a car accident, which is why I had to leave immediately. The woman in that picture was the case worker. There’s so much more I want to explain, but would you mind if we talked about it tomorrow . . . when you will remember?”
I should have been annoyed that he thought
