When I pull up to HERS just after noon, it’s suspiciously empty. I parallel park right in front of the entrance and see the closed sign hanging on the door. I don’t let myself get too excited. I might not know Brynn and Vonnie well, but I do know they wouldn’t not tell me if they were canceling plans. So even though I want to accept this blessing and go get my donut, I know without a doubt this is terrible news for me.
I lean into the backseat to get my phone out of my purse. I signed Oprah’s pledge not to text while I drive and I take that shit serious. I might disappoint myself on a daily basis, but my promise to Oprah is not something I take lightly. One of her tips was to keep your phone out of reach, and now, ten years later, it’s just become a habit.
I find my phone at the bottom of my purse and see two missed calls and three text messages from Quinton. I know I deleted the one earlier, but I do work with him and I know I’m going to have to respond at some point. Might as well get it over with before I walk into a bar full of good booze and better people. But in a stroke of luck I’ve come to never expect, there’s a loud bang on my window before I open my messages.
“Hey!” Brynn’s innocent smile doesn’t fool me for a second. “The Lady Mustangs had their meeting here today and I have to get everything reorganized again before I can open back up to the public.”
I drop my phone into my bag, thanking all the stars in the sky for the excuse to avoid Quinton for a little bit longer, and pull my keys out of the ignition.
“Their meeting?” I walk around my car until I join her on the sidewalk. “Aren’t you a Lady Mustang too?”
“Maybe technically, but not really.” She pulls open the door for me. “I mainly do the bar stuff during meetings. I’m not an active member or anything.”
“Is she trying to act like she’s not a Lady Mustang?” Vonnie sets her martini on the table and even though I was a firm no when it came to drinking this morning, now I’m only slightly dedicated to that declaration.
I nod my head. “Yeah, she’s basically saying she’s just the host.”
“And I am!” Brynn laughs and I think she was going for carefree, but sounds slightly hysterical instead.
“Tanya!” Vonnie yells across the room to one of the other servers. “How many drinks did Brynn make today?”
“Is that a trick question?” Tanya grabs a couple of empty glasses behind the bar. “Zero. You know she was talking about balloons for the holiday party the entire time.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Brynn snaps before aiming her glare my way. “This is all your fault.”
How did I get pulled into this? “My fault?”
“Yes.” She puts her hands on her hips and says it in a way that’s so matter-of-fact that maybe it is my fault. What do I know anyways? I’m still the dummy creep who kissed my kinda-boss. “If you hadn’t made last night so amazing with those damn balloons everywhere, I wouldn’t have gotten the bug to throw an event and I wouldn’t have participated today. But you did, then I did, so it’s your fault.”
I don’t know what I hate more—her flawed logic or that her flawed logic actually makes so much sense to me?
“So what about last month’s meeting? Or all of the meetings last year? Your participation in those meetings is Elle’s fault too?”
Phew! I was just about to take responsibility for it too!
“Shut up.” Brynn collapses into the chair next to Vonnie. “You know I hate it when you’re right and I’m called out.”
Vonnie picks up her martini and stares Brynn down over the rim. “I’m always right, you should be used to it by now.”
This is the adult version of “The Song That Never Ends.” Brynn leans forward, ready to refute, when the front door opens. Liv’s long legs walk in first, but Marie’s voice leads the way.
As the owner of a cupcake bakery, she’s just on a constant sugar high, I’m convinced. When she’s not bouncing around, she’s a total grump who needs to be fed. She’s a toddler trapped in a grown woman’s body. Which is probably how she’s mastered making her money catering to the mom demographic of Denver. She’s wearing her signature TOMS with cuffed jeans and oversized blouse. It’s a stark contrast compared to the woman next to her.
Where Marie thrives on comfort, Liv thinks it’s a four-letter word. I think the last time I saw her in flats was when we were in high school. And the pointy-toed stilettos she’s wearing today are no exception. Her makeup is applied to contoured perfection and her long blonde hair falls down her back in flawless, glossy waves. And even with all of that, I have no idea if she came here from work, the gym, or a photo shoot. Liv is always on ten. It’s why she makes such a killing in retail and with her blog.
“Hey hooker!” Marie drops her purse on the floor by an empty chair and wraps her arms around me. “You look terrible.”
Gotta love friends who tell you how it is.
“Awww. Friends. Hugs. Wonderful,” Brynn cuts in. “Is it time for details now?”
“Yeah, time to spill.” Vonnie crosses her legs and leans back into her chair. “Poppy had a doctor’s appointment, so we’ll fill her pregnant ass in later.”
I’m glad everyone else is so ready to take a deep dive into my personal life, but I so am not.
“Liv and I think it was a Cam Hall thing,” Marie says. “Are we right?”
This is why you should end
