“What do you think of setting up the bar here?” Brynn points to the corner of the empty event space. “We can bring in our chalkboard, and Paisley, one of the bartenders working that night, is great at hand-lettering so it will look pretty too.”
“Ask Quinton, it’s his event. I’m just here to take notes for setup. All the decisions are his to make.” I can’t even be bothered to care anymore. I already have plans to spend tonight with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while I update my résumé.
Apparently, Quinton is capable of making friends with some people, and Maxwell Lewis is one of them. Between their relationship and Brynn’s longstanding one with the Mustangs organization, she volunteered to donate her services to this event. And because of Quinton’s and the venue’s schedules, she was nice enough to come out during the only time they could squeeze us in.
If I wasn’t too busy hating my life right now, I’d be really excited to be spending time with her.
But instead, all my enthusiasm for anything including Quinton Howard Junior is long gone and I have adopted the mood of an angsty teen instead.
“Um, yeah. Okay, I’ll ask him.” Brynn turns to find Quinton, but only takes a few steps before she’s walking back to me and grabbing my arm, dragging me out of the room.
“Brynn!” I hiss out. “What are you doing?”
She doesn’t answer until we are in the bathroom with the door locked behind us and the faucets all turned on.
“What happened?” She stands in front of me, her hands firmly on her hips and fire behind her eyes.
“Nothing happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t even try that shit with me.” She jabs a finger into my shoulder and I’m convinced I’ll have a fingertip-sized bruise later. “If you knew my friends, you’d know that I’ve been witness to Mustang drama for what feels like my entire life. I’ve even gotten Vonnie Lamar to break. You don’t stand a chance against me.”
“Lavonne Lamar? From Colorado Everyday?” My attention is that of a squirrel. “I loved when she was on that show! Did you see the episode where she did the fish pedicure? I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. Why’d she quit?”
“Oh my god.” She closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “You’re just like them. As soon as you and Quinton admit you’re into each other, you’re going to fit in perfectly.”
“Me and Quinton?” I put my hand on her forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever? Do you need me to call nine-one-one?”
She slaps my hand away, which, like the finger jab, also hurts way more than it probably should.
“I think you’re underestimating my deep knowledge when it comes to Mustangs romances,” she says. “I was a bridesmaid in Gavin and Marlee Pope’s wedding for a reason. TK and Poppy’s rekindling basically took place in HERS. I’ve conducted a deep dive over the courtship between me and Maxwell. And I won’t even get into how many wives and girlfriends I’ve counseled in my office after Wednesday meetings, but hint? It’s a fucking lot.”
“Well, ‘fucking’ is the largest form of measurement, so I can only imagine.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
“But the highest form of intelligence,” I finish for her. “Why does everybody always forget the end of that quote?”
“I think the real question is why do you know the entire quote?”
I have no good comeback for that. “Fine. Whatever. You win this round.” I revert back to my angsty teen routine.
“Ha! Victorious again!” She does a double fist pump before the realization that a double fist pump is way worse than knowing an iconic quote and lowers her arms in defeat. “Call it a tie?”
“I can live with that.”
We shake hands and suddenly, this feels like a very formal bathroom meeting.
“So now are you ready to tell me what’s going on with you?” she asks. “I know you weren’t thrilled about this stint with Quinton, but Liv and Marie both said you were making it work and actually feeling really good about the work you two were doing.”
“Wait.” I replay her words in my head. “What?”
I know Liv and Marie have been going to HERS. They’ve invited me a few times, but because I’m busy trying not to get fired, I haven’t gone. Friday nights spent writing statements that are continually ignored—but still requested—isn’t as much fun as I initially thought. Plus, I have the added benefit of sorting through the hate mail aimed at Quinton, which has been rerouted to me. Speaking of, if people who love the Second Amendment so much had the same enthusiasm for the First Amendment, my job would be so much easier . . . and less scary. What I didn’t know, however, was that I’ve been the subject of their conversations when they went to HERS without me.
“They’ve been coming in and doing gin tastings. They’ve been super helpful. I have three new cocktails ready for winter.” She doesn’t even pretend to be a little bit sorry that she’s boozing up my friends to gain intel.
And I’ll be having a conversation with Liv and Marie soon. I mean really? Betrayed in the name of gin?
How rude.
But also, relatable. I’d totally turn on them for whiskey.
“Okay, so yes, things were getting better.” I start to sit on the ground before remembering we’re still in the bathroom and activate my glutes and hamstrings harder than I ever have in my entire thirty-one years on this earth. Maybe if I get fired, I can start a new workout trend that takes place in public restrooms? I mean, spinning is so last year.
“That was, quite possibly, the greatest squat save I’ve ever witnessed,” Brynn says.
“Thank you!” I shout, even though I know it’s probably heard throughout the entire venue. But nothing gets me more excited than a simple compliment. “My knees didn’t
