A loud knock sounded at the door.
Sara’s eyeball stared back at me through the peephole. Her pearly whites beamed with an exaggerated grin once I opened the door. She held up a bottle of white merlot and ducked under my arm, heading straight for the kitchen. After shutting the door and securing the deadbolt, I followed her.
She grabbed two wine glasses from my cabinet. “Cue up your preferred streaming service, my dear. And do you have any cheese? These eyes are hungry,” she said, somehow managing not to crack a smile.
I chuckled. “Top shelf in the door, but double-check. It’s pepper jack.”
“Ah, yes. Your fear that one of the peppers could be mold. How could I forget?” She snatched the cheese, shut the door with her hip, and winked. “Why do you have three pomegranates in your fridge? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in someone’s fridge, let alone three.”
“Uh, because I like them?” After looking for the remote control in every couch cushion crack, I was about to do the abysmal act of turning the TV on by pressing the button on the unit itself. “Besides, they have all sorts of benefits. Anti-inflammatory, natural antioxidants, cancer prevention…”
Sara gasped. “Cinnamon Bun Oreos? I thought they didn’t sell these anymore.” She eyed the platter of Oreos I purposely put on display and grabbed a handful.
“Randomly found some when I went to Bullseye the other day. I cleared their shelves,” I said with a snicker.
I had an epiphany and dropped to the floor, peering under the couch. There, resting amidst a modest collection of dust bunnies, stale corn chips, and cat fur, was the remote.
“Doing pushups now? Good for you,” Sara said, making the couch creak when she flopped onto it.
I snorted. “Me? Pushups? Maybe for my forefinger.” I mimicked the motion of clicking a mouse.
Sara shook her head with a smile and popped a cube of cheese in her mouth. As soon as I sat down, Sammy hopped onto the TV stand, his tail sticking straight into the air. The opening music started, and he paused right in the middle of the screen, rubbing his head against the people groping.
“He has three seconds before I start throwing cheese at him,” Sara mumbled.
She wasn’t kidding. Sara hated cats and never let me forget it. “Down, Sammy!” He turned and looked at us with pure boredom before continuing his head rub against the television. I sighed, stood up, and yanked him into the crook of my arm. Once he was on the couch, he did several circles and curled up in a ball next to my leg.
“That cat is so spoiled,” Sara said, sneering at him.
“If you owned more than betta fish, maybe you’d spoil a pet too.” I grabbed my wine glass and curled my feet underneath me.
Sara stuck her tongue out, and we watched Dirty Dancing for the rest of the night. I knew the movie so well I could quote it word for word. After the second time of me doing this out loud, she requested I keep my trap shut unless it was a commentary on Swayze’s glowing posterior. Instead, I resorted to “mouthing” the dialogue because I just couldn’t help myself. When I zoned out during Johnny and Baby’s first sex scene, my thoughts fluttering to the processing case in my office, I realized my worst fear. I was already invested.
The movie ended, but I stared into oblivion, gripping onto the remote like I’d fall through an invisible hole if I let go. Sara reached over me and yanked it from my grasp. The screen turned black.
“We’re going on vacation,” she blurted.
My eyes fluttered me back to reality. “I’m sorry, what?”
She flipped her phone around. A resort, with mountains in the background, a pool with crystal blue water, and a swim-up bar lit up the screen.
“Wow. That’s gorgeous,” I replied. It also looked very familiar.
She grinned and slipped the phone back in her pocket. “I’m glad you think so because it’s where we’re going.”
“Sara.” I chuckled, but it faded away when she didn’t join in. “Are you serious? You know I can’t afford anywhere like that.”
“It’s already planned and booked. Squared away our vacation time with the boss. And we leave tomorrow.” She stared at me with a mischievous smirk.
A breath hitched in my throat, and I stood, pacing the length of my living room. “Tomorrow? I have so many things to do. Packing, figuring out someone to watch Sammy, get shots.”
“All you have to do is pack a few dresses and a swimsuit.” She gripped my arms. “The bikini. Not the one piece. I already asked my friend to watch your cat. And we’re going to Greece, not a country known for malaria, Steph.”
The brochure. Was Sara psychic?
I stared at her blankly. “You knew I’d try to talk you out of this, didn’t you?”
“I did. Besides, this isn’t out of left field. You’ve known about this for a month, but have been putting it off.” She sighed. “You need this. We need this. I need a break from looking at dead bodies, and I’m sure if you find porn on one more suspect computer, you’re going to scream.”
Sara knew I was never one for spontaneity. Her act of prepping everything before telling me made me love her that much more. How would I ever repay her for this?
“Thank you, Sara. I—I can’t give it all to you right now, but I will pay you back,” I said, giving her my best pout.
She shook her head. “You put those big blue puppy dog eyes away. We can argue about you paying me back later.”
“How do you know my passport is current?” I narrowed my eyes.
She grinned. “Stop trying to weasel your way out of this. The department requires all employees to maintain current passports, and you are not the type to be out of compliance.”
Son of a nutcracker. I hated how well she knew me.
I bit down on my lip with such force I tasted blood. “Well, you better go then. It’ll probably take me all night to pack, unpack and re-pack again. You know me.”
Her grin widened. “I’ll need to wrap up a few things at work tomorrow morning. Meet me there, and we’ll take a cab to the airport. Deal?”
I nodded, already dreading the thought of a crowded airport.
After she left, I stared into my closet as if it were a mysterious cave. My wardrobe wasn’t what one would describe as…eclectic. Dresses with pockets were my go-to outfit for work. Comfortable and accessible. They were not, however, the type of attire you’d wear to some swanky resort. I shoved the work clothes aside, revealing skirts I hadn’t worn in years and a prom dress from fifteen years ago. Why had I even kept it? Like I could still fit into it. Not that I tried or anything.
The dress stuck out like a sore thumb, nestled into a particular corner of the closet. A simple light pink dress with an a-line cut and straps. The skirt portion flared out with flowy material like a cloud when you spun around it. It was the closest I could find to the dress Baby wore in Dirty Dancing. Before now, I never had an excuse to wear it.
I carried the dress to my bed like it’d wither away in my hands if I weren’t careful. Placing it down, I smiled, imagining myself dancing in it. By myself. Certainly not groping on some random stranger. Okay, so maybe this vacation wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I continued to grab items I imagined one would need for Greece. Holding the bikini in one hand and the one-piece in the other, an internal battle ensued.