She passed me my glass. “Grey Goose and seltzer with a fresh squeeze of lime? When did you stop being fun? I used to be able to count on you for at least a few tequila shots.”
The truth is, I used to be good for a whole lot more than a few tequila shots. In high school, and then throughout college, if there was a party, I knew where it was and who was hosting it. Nobody, not even Merritt, knew the true extent of my extracurricular activities. I kept everything balanced like a juggling act: how much I could drink and still function the next day; what nights Sam would be working late, and I could get away with throwing back a few extra; and which days I couldn’t drink at all because of an audition.
Sure, there were times I broke my own rules. I’d forget to throw away the empty wine bottles and Sam would come home to find them on the kitchen counter. Or, I’d end up missing an audition because I was too hungover or unprepared to go. But, when Sam proposed, I made a vow to clean up my act. Benji’s Bridal Boot Camp had done a pretty good job of keeping me in line although there were moments, especially with the wedding rapidly approaching, I crossed it.
I took a small sip and set it down on the high-top table. “It’s just ’til the wedding. Besides, I have Boot Camp in the morning.”
Merritt pulled the high-top toward her own chair. “Stand up. Let me look at you.”
I slid off my chair, and Merritt motioned for me to spin around.
“What have you lost, like eight pounds?”
I held up my two hands and wiggled all ten fingers.
“Ten pounds! Is this Sam? Is he pushing you to lose weight?”
I sat back down. “Sam? No, of course not. And it’s not about weight. I just want everything to be perfect.”
She softened her eyes. “Joey, you know there’s no such thing. It’s a wedding. If, at the end of that day, you’re married to the person you love, it was a roaring success. The rest is noise. Look at me and Naomi. Our wedding consisted of a justice of the peace and a taco food truck, and we couldn’t be happier.”
Almost five years ago, Merritt and Naomi originally planned on a large wedding at a beautiful winery in Santa Barbara that had a two-year waitlist. Between Merritt’s job and Naomi’s close ties to the community, their guest list quickly shot up to over three hundred. But, a month into the planning our mother’s health took a turn for the worse, and Merritt and Naomi decided to postpone their lavish reception in favor of a smaller, more intimate ceremony. My mother had been battling cancer for years, and they wanted to ensure she’d be well enough to attend. They promised her when she was feeling up to dancing again, they’d throw the biggest, most spectacular party to celebrate their marriage. She died just seven months later.
“Have you been talking to Sam?” I asked.
She laughed. “No, why?”
“At this stage of the game, he’s a bit weddinged out. He’s basically left all the rest of decisions to me. Says he doesn’t care who sits where or what flowers cover the tables. He wants us declared man and wife and couldn’t care less what canapés we serve while it’s happening.”
“Good for him. Speaking of which, where is my future brother-in-law tonight?”
“Probably still at the office. His hours have been insane lately. Taking off tomorrow and Friday apparently means he’ll be there until at least midnight tonight.”
“I could never be chained to a desk all day.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.”
Merritt tapped me on the nose. “You gave up acting way too soon. If you pounded the pavement just a little longer, I know you would’ve gotten your big break.”
A few years ago, Merritt helped me land a small recurring role on her show, which allowed me to get my SAG card. She always believed in my talents as an actress and thought I abandoned the dream way too soon.
I forced a smile. “I’m happy at the Gerber Agency.”
“How is Stephen Gerber these days? Still picking up his lunch?”
“Very funny.”
“What are you guys working on?”
“Casting for the new production of Cats.”
“Ugh, I hate Cats.”
“You do?”
“A lot.” She stood up from her stool. “I have to pee. I’ll be right back.”
Merritt shoved through a small crowd by the bathroom and got in line, while I sucked back the rest of my drink. I hadn’t eaten much all day, and ever since eliminating carbs, it didn’t take much for me to get a buzz. I reached around my bag and pulled out my phone. There was a text from Sam. He was still at the office and didn’t want me to wait up, especially since I had Boot Camp so early in the morning.
Poor guy, he was still at work burning the midnight oil, while I was getting pissed at a bar with my sister. Suddenly, I had the most brilliant idea of how to make it up to him. I sprang out of my chair and over to where Merritt was standing in line for the bathroom.
“Can I cut in front of you? Please.”
“Seriously?”
“Otherwise, I’m going to have to go all the way to the back of the line. I don’t think I can hold it.”
“Damn lesbian bars, you’d think they’d build them with at least two ladies’ rooms. Fine, go ahead,” Merritt said, crossing her arms.
I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, sis.”
I pushed past her and into the bathroom, where I locked the door. I lifted my shirt, and before I could second-guess myself, I took a topless selfie and sent it off to Sam. The photo was so out of character for me, I could only imagine his response. I sat down on the top of the toilet seat and waited for his reaction. A few seconds later, my phone pinged. I tapped open his text and gasped.
A dick pic? He sent me a dick pic from his office? Where? How? I thought he’d write back something like “wow” or “sexy.” I was not expecting a dick pic . . . but, considering our recent dry spell, it was kind of exciting.
Merritt pounded on the door. “Any day now, Joanna. There are like a hundred angry women in line to use the bathroom.”
“One sec,” I called back. I took one last look at the picture, then slid the phone into my pocket. Maybe I’d skip Boot Camp in the morning? It’d only be my first strike. Sam wasn’t going in to work. We could stay in bed all morning before meeting Merritt and Naomi for brunch. It’d been months since we’d last had sex. I chalked it up to schedules and work and wedding stress, but maybe if we could steal some time tomorrow, we could get things back on track?
I came out, and Merritt practically knocked me over as she rushed past me and into the bathroom. “I’ll be over by the bar,” I yelled to her before she closed the door.
I rummaged around my pocket for change and plunked it into the jukebox. Running my finger down the song list, I landed on an old favorite, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing,” and pressed play. I pushed my way to the bar and ordered us a round of Patron Silver.
Merritt came out of the bathroom and spotted me. She pointed to the jukebox and mouthed, “Was that you?”
I nodded, and she gave me a big thumbs-up as she squeezed her way to the bar. She sidled up to me, and I passed her the Tequila shot.
“What about bridal Boot Camp in the morning?” she asked.