“Okay. We’re going to fix this the same way we did when we were kids and one of us had a problem…with a pact.”
She scribbled Summer Fun Pact at the top of the napkin and then underlined it twice with heavy slashes.
I’d completely forgotten about the little pacts the three of us used to make. We’d made the first one in third grade when Charlie had to wear this crazy-looking metal contraption on her face to correct a pretty bad underbite. She was afraid people would think she wasn’t cool. So the three of us made a pact: Be Nerds Together. I still remembered some of our rules.
Take your style cues from your mom.
Always carry at least three textbooks in your hands on your way home from school, even if you have no homework.
Collect Crocs in multiple colors.
Over the years, we’d created dozens of similar pacts. But after the last one—the one involving my virginity that we were still not allowed to discuss—I guess we took a hiatus.
“Okay…rule number one,” Summer said. “Be spontaneous. If an opportunity for fun arises, take it. Don’t overanalyze it.”
“Unless it’s dangerous,” I added.
Charlie rolled her eyes and pointed to the napkin. “Add in parentheses that a majority vote determines if something is dangerous.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, that makes me feel safe with you two.”
“Next rule,” Charlie said. “Tell a joke to a stranger every day.”
That one wasn’t so bad. I nodded. “I like that. I have a ton of astronomy jokes I bet most people have never heard.”
Charlie pointed at the napkin. “Add in parentheses…no astronomy jokes. Or science-related ones, for that matter.”
“Good idea.” Summer wrote on the napkin again. “How about for number three…no more running as our exercise. From now on, we hula hoop, play Double Dutch, skip around town, pull together a dodge-ball game, and play hopscotch.”
I drank the last of my margarita. “I love that one!”
Summer chuckled. “That’s because you’re a lightweight, and the tequila already went to your head.”
I was feeling pretty good. Which reminded me...I pointed to the napkin this time. “We should throw a party at our house.”
“Now you’re talking!”
By the time we were done creating our Summer Fun Pact, we had laughed a lot and come up with ten rules. I was also pretty damn tipsy from finishing my second margarita. Things were becoming more fun already.
“I love you guys.” I smiled at my two best friends. “Thank you for making me spend this summer out here with you. It’s just what I needed.”
“Uh oh. We’ve entered the I love you guys phase of Lola’s inebriation. We better order a few waters, or we’ll skip the these hips don’t lie dancing phase and go straight to head hanging in the toilet.”
I stood from my chair and waved them off. “I’m fine. I’m not as big of a lightweight as you think. Though, I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back.”
In the small, unisex bathroom at the back of the place, I realized I actually was a bit drunker than I’d thought. Even though I was wearing flat sandals, I found myself wobbling as I hovered over the toilet to pee. Maybe some waters wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.
As I did my business, I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation we’d just had at the bar. I really did have the best friends. Even though they teased me a lot, Summer and Charlie had never steered me wrong. I decided right then and there I wasn’t going to let the rest of the summer pass me by. Sure, relaxing on the beach and reading were fun. But I was twenty-four, just came out of a dull, five-year relationship, and wanted to live a little. Even if it was outside my comfort zone, I was going to follow the rules of our new Summer Fun Pact. Starting right now, there was a new Lola in town. And she wasn’t going to overthink things. She was going to be in the moment and try things she’d never done before.
I took a deep breath and flushed the toilet, feeling excited about the rest of summer. Tonight was the start of good things. I could just feel it in my bones. In fact, I couldn’t wait to wash my hands and get back out there. Smiling, I reached for the stall’s door lock when suddenly something written at the top of the door caught me eye.
For a good time, call 409-5420
Huh.
Wonder what that’s all about?
In my margarita-induced haze, I decided to make good on my vow to be a little more fun this summer. Who doesn’t want a good time, right?
I snickered to myself as I dialed the number.
It rang a few times until a deep male voice picked up.
“Y-ello.”
Shit. I hadn’t exactly planned what I was going to say if someone answered.
“Hey!” I said enthusiastically.
“Hey!” he mimicked in a mocking fashion.
“I hear this is the number that people call when they want to have a good time around the island?” I shut my eyes and cringed.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” His gruff voice vibrated in my ear.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“Who’s this?” he shouted.
I hiccupped. “You first.”
“Mark.” He’d said it in an abrupt fashion, almost tauntingly, as if the word Mark were an expletive, the first name that came to mind—that wasn’t his own.
“I can tell you’re lying. You don’t sound like a Mark. And Mark isn’t an exciting enough name for…Mr. Good Time.” I snorted.
“Is this some kind of joke? I don’t have time for your shit.”
“This is 409-5420, right?”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah.”
“How long have you had this phone number?”
“I don’t know…a decade, maybe?”
“You must be local if your number is posted here. You know Salty’s?”
“The bar? Yeah.”
“How long has Salty’s been around?”
“It’s new,” he said. “Eddie opened it a few years ago.”
“Then, it’s you. It’s your number. You’re Mr. Good Time. Someone seemed to think that if people wanted a good time, they should call
