I’d spent half the night defrosting frozen vegetables on my chest while listening to guided meditations and trying to will the stress from my body.
“We’re here to tell you that we picked a side,” Naomi said. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a silk blouse the color of emeralds. Her hair was curled in loose waves that framed her pretty face.
“A side of what?”
“We’ve given it a lot of thought and we’re Team Lina,” Sloane said. She too was nicely dressed for a casual Sunday afternoon. She was wearing distressed jeans, heels, and a damn good smoky eye. “I wanted to make T-shirts, but Naomi thought it would be better if we just showed up and took you out.”
“Took me out?” I repeated. “Like to murder me?”
“No homicides, I promise,” Naomi said, heading toward my bedroom. “Why is there a packed suitcase in here?”
“Because I can’t carry all my clothes in my hands.”
“You were right not to wait on the T-shirts,” Sloane said, following Naomi into my room.
Naomi started pawing through my suitcase. “This is cute. Oh, and definitely these jeans.”
“Are you robbing me?” I knew Knockemout was a little rough around the edges but this seemed excessive.
“You’re getting dressed and we’re going out for a girls’ plus Stef afternoon, possibly night, depending on how much alcohol and fried food is consumed,” Sloane said, handing me a pair of jeans and a red sweater with a plunging neckline.
“We’re still working on the name,” Naomi added.
“But I wasn’t honest with you. I kept things from you,” I pointed out, wondering if perhaps they’d forgotten my treason.
“Friends give friends the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you had a good reason for not being honest. Or maybe you’ve never had awesome friends like Sloane and me,” Naomi said, tossing me my gigantic cosmetic bag. “Either way, what kind of friends would we be if we left you when you needed us most?”
“So you’re not mad at me?” I asked slowly.
“We’re concerned,” Naomi corrected.
“And we really want more details on you sleeping with Nash,” Sloane added with a playful eyebrow wriggle.
“He’s miserable, by the way,” Naomi said, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
“His state of misery is none of my business,” I insisted.
He’d knocked on my door twice yesterday after the disaster at the soccer game. The third time, he’d threatened to break it in if I didn’t at least confirm that I was okay.
To save the expense of replacing the door, I’d texted him a succinct I’m fine. Fuck off.
“Hurry up and get ready. We can’t drink all day if we don’t start now,” Sloane said, examining another sweater. “Hey, can I borrow this for my date with Nolan?”
And that was how I ended up at Hellhound, a dingy biker bar, on a Sunday afternoon with Team Lina.
The music was loud. The floor was sticky. The pool tables were all taken. And there were more wallets on chains than off.
“This place still makes me want to use a bucket of Pine-Sol and a pallet of Lysol before sitting down,” Naomi complained as we bellied up to the bar.
Stef grimaced and rolled up the sleeves of his Alexander McQueen sweater before resting his forearms gingerly on the wood. “Well, hello, hot bartender,” he said under his breath.
Joel, the gentlemanly bartender, was tall, muscly, facial hair-y, and decked out in head to toe black. His hair was a mane of silver swept back from his tanned face. “Welcome back, ladies,” he said with a smirk of recognition. “I see you brought a new friend along.”
Naomi introduced Stef.
“What’ll it be? Shots? Liquor? Wine?”
“Shots,” Sloane said.
“Wine?” Naomi asked.
“Definitely wine,” Stef agreed.
Joel’s gray eyes came to me. “I’ll have water.”
“Booooooo!” Naomi and Sloane said together.
Stef frowned at me. “Do you have a head injury?”
“I’ll get started on those drinks. Try not to punch anyone in the meantime,” Joel cautioned mostly me.
“You’re not drinking,” Sloane said.
“Water is a drink.”
“What Sloane means is why are you hydrating instead of being irresponsible and ordering adult beverages?” Naomi said.
“One of us has to drive,” I pointed out.
“One of us has a sexy as hell fiancé ready and waiting to pick up our charmingly intoxicated selves,” Naomi explained.
“Knox didn’t give you shit about coming back here?” I asked.
The last and, well, only time we’d been here had been the day I arrived in town. Knox and Naomi were in the midst of a breakup that neither knucklehead actually wanted. I’d whisked Naomi away from her shift at Honky Tonk and brought her here to the diviest of dive bars.
Sloane had joined us and the day almost ended in a bar fight when some of the dumber, drunker patrons thought they had an actual chance with us.
“That’s why Stef’s here,” Naomi explained.
“He made me promise to send an update every thirty minutes,” Stef said, holding up his phone.
“Is he still mad at me?” I asked, trying to sound like I didn’t care.
“He will be if he finds out you were planning on leaving town without telling any of us,” Naomi said.
This was why I didn’t have friends. Relationships of all kinds were too sticky. Everyone felt they had a right to tell you what you were doing was wrong and give you instructions on how to fix it to their liking.
“I wasn’t leaving town. I was going to move back to the motel and then leave town.”
“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience let you get a roach-borne disease when there’s a perfectly nice, clean apartment available to you,” Naomi insisted.
“I’d rather live with roaches than next door to Nash.”
Joel returned with our drinks. Two shots of God knows what for Sloane, two wineglasses filled to the brim, and a water with a lemon garnish.
Sloane made grabby hands at the shots.
“Thanks, Joel,” I said as he set the water down in front of me.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked me.
“I’m fine.”
“Errrrr!” Sloane, already one shot down, made a loud buzzer noise. “It’s against the law to lie during girls plus Stef afternoon.”
Naomi nodded. “Agreed. Rule number one: No lying. We aren’t here to pretend everything is fine. We’re here to be here for each other. I said here too many times. Now it doesn’t sound like a word. Here. Here?”
“Here.” Sloane tried frowning.
“They been drinking already?” Joel asked me with the arch of a sexy silver eyebrow.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He wisely filled two more glasses with water and set them in front of my friends before disappearing down the bar.
“Heeeeeere,” Naomi enunciated.
“Oh my God. Fine! I’m not fine,” I admitted.
“It’s about damn time. I was afraid you were going to make us keep going,” Sloane said, picking up her second shot and downing it.