Great.
I peered cautiously over my shoulder to see the drunk guy leering at Whitney’s chest. “Enjoy, ladies,” he slurred.
Here was something else I didn’t want to deal with: the advances of a shitfaced stranger. If we accepted these, he’d expect us to talk to him, or at the very least, say thanks. And I wasn’t about to thank someone who’d been aggressively ogling us all night.
“We don’t want them,” I told the server. “Send them back.”
“Wait a minute,” Whitney said. “Why are you turning down a free drink?”
“I don’t wanna talk to this guy, do you?”
“No, but we don’t have to talk to him just because he bought us drinks. That’s not how it works.”
The drunk guy leaned over, practically falling into my lap. “A simple thank-you would suffice, ladies.”
Whit turned to the server, who looked like he wanted to flee the scene of whatever crime was about to be committed. “On second thought,” she said, “we’ll send those back.”
As the server dutifully placed the shot glasses back on his tray, the drunk guy glowered. “You girls should show a little gratitude.”
“Excuse me?” Lia said.
“You heard me.” Spittle flew from his lips as he rounded on Lia. “You’re lucky anyone bought you a drink. If it wasn’t for your friend with her tits hanging out, I wouldn’t have looked twice.”
Before I could tell what was happening, Whit was on her feet, grabbing two shots off the poor server’s tray and flinging them in the drunk guy’s face. Amber liquid dripped down his cheeks and onto the front of his slim-fit polo. He sat frozen, shock and alcohol impeding his reflexes. People at neighboring tables stopped their conversations and turned to stare, eager to see what would happen next.
But we knew from experience: when Whit started throwing drinks, it was time to leave. We gathered our purses and jackets and hustled her out the door as she screamed a final “Asshole!” over her shoulder.
Out on the sidewalk, we straightened our skirts and smoothed our hair. “Everyone okay?” Dani asked.
We assured each other we were fine. It wasn’t the first time a drunk dude had harassed any of us, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
I hugged my purse to my chest and looked around. Rivington Street was bursting with weekend vibes. People smiling and laughing as they emerged from restaurants and ducked into bars. The party was just getting started, yet all I wanted to do was head home and hide under the covers. To left-swipe this entire night from my memory: Brandon, Alex, all of it.
“I think I’m gonna get going.”
“Hell no, you’re not.” Whit grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me down the block, toward Ludlow Street. “It’s rock ’n’ roll karaoke night at Arlene’s.”
Lia squealed. “Ooh! Let’s go. I wanna get there early so we can get our names on the list.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for it,” I said.
“Come on.” Dani squeezed my shoulder. “Think of how much better you’ll feel after you screech out ‘Life on Mars.’”
She had a point. There was no pain a little Bowie couldn’t heal. And no better way to forget about the misery men had wrought on my life than by making new memories with my amazing girlfriends.
3
Unfortunately, I didn’t remember much of what happened after we left Verlaine. The only thing I could recall with clarity was an abundance of Coors Light.
From the way my throat was burning, though, I’d obviously screeched out my fair share of David Bowie. And I had a vague recollection of wolfing down some mystery meat I’d bought from a cart on Stanton Street. In fact, there was still some garlicky gristle lodged between my teeth. Apparently, I hadn’t felt the need to floss before I fell asleep.
Sunlight sliced through the slats of my blinds. I squinted and struggled to sit upright, but the room was spinning way too fast for my liking. So I unplugged my phone from the charger and nestled back beneath the covers.
After we’d said goodbye in the wee small hours of the morning, the girls started a group text message. My ancient phone had died halfway through, so I turned it on now to catch up on the conversation.
DANI 2:25 A.M.
Does anyone know what happened to Whit?
LIA 2:27 A.M.
Last I saw, she was making out with some hipster in the corner of Arlene’s.
DANI 2:28 A.M.
Not that guy with the handlebar mustache????
LIA 2:30 A.M.
Yup.
WHITNEY 3:45 A.M.
For your information, handlebar mustaches are hot right now.
WHITNEY 3:46 A.M.
Besides he’s an actor.
WHITNEY 3:47 A.M.
At least I think he is.
LIA 11:04 A.M.
Did you get his #?
WHITNEY 11:52 A.M.
Why would I do that?
DANI 12:12 P.M.
Is anyone else in a world of pain right now?
LIA 12:15 P.M.
I told you not to do those SoCo shots!
WHITNEY 12:17 P.M.
Blech. SoCo is never a good idea.
DANI 12:18 P.M.
Uuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh
WHITNEY 12:25 P.M.
Mel what’s up with you?
LIA 12:27 P.M.
Yeah, are you feeling okay?
LIA 12:28 P.M.
That kabob you ate before you got in the cab looked pretty sketchy.
Funny, it didn’t look sketchy to me. Of course, I was so starved that I would’ve eaten anything at that point.
MEL 12:40 P.M.
A little hungover but other than that I’m fine.
I closed my eyes as a wave of queasiness sailed through my system. Maybe that street meat wasn’t the best idea. I should’ve listened to Lia.
My phone buzzed and I cracked one eye open to check the reply from the girls. But it wasn’t a text message; it was a Fluttr alert.
NEW DIRECT MESSAGE FROM JOE!
Oh, right. The guy I’d matched with last night before the parade of humiliation began. Did I even want to read what he had to say? Whit had warned me: Fluttr was not the place to find a respectable guy.
But I kept coming back to Lia and Jay. Nice guys were on Fluttr. It just might take some persistence to find them.