“Ah, yes, Mrs. Cardigan, we have you at one of our best tables, right next to the bar, as requested.”
“Oh, you do love me,” I say.
“You can have all the drinks your little heart desires.” Greer takes my hand in hers and we follow behind the waitress, weaving through the restaurant. The space is dark, giving off nightclub vibes, but instead of a dance floor, the main space is spilling over with booths and tables. The textured surfaces of the walls are awash in blue uplighting, and above us there is a second floor of dining, also bustling with people. The beautiful restaurant is totally getting me in the mood to make some bad decisions.
We’re seated in a booth directly across from the gorgeous bar, which features a brilliantly placed wall waterfall directly behind the booze, representing the flow of alcohol that’s consumed daily.
“Daniel will be your waiter,” the hostess says. “He’ll be right over to take your drink orders.”
“Is Daniel single?” I unapologetically ask.
The hostess smiles. “He is.” She winks. “Have fun, ladies.”
“Hear that?” I ask, opening the narrow menu in front of me. “Daniel is single. He could be our first victim.”
“What do you mean, first victim?” Keiko asks.
Greer sets her purse on the table and says, “Before we get into the goals of the night, which I understand you have some?”
I nod. “Oh yes, one major goal.”
“As I thought. But before we get into that, I have a few housekeeping items.”
Of course she does, but I’m pretty sure these aren’t her housekeeping items. I lean back into the plush booth and fold my arms over my chest. “Let me guess—these are from Arlo?”
She smirks. “Are you referring to your overprotective brother who forced me to read this note from him?” She whips out a note from her purse.
See, I know my brother far too well, which, given our history, isn’t difficult. But he also bathed me in empathy and courage when I needed a place to lie low after I found out about TWSNBN.
“Oh, this has got to be good.” I motion with my fingers for her to hand the list over. “Give it to me. Let’s see what he has to say.”
Greer shakes her head. “Oh no, I’m going to have the distinct pleasure of reading this myself.” She clears her throat and reads, “‘Coraline.’” She smirks. He’s the only one who calls me by my full name. Always has, always will. “‘I understand the excitement of your divorce finally going through. Trust me when I say I couldn’t be happier that you’re free of that grotesque piece of shit.’”
“Ooo, I like that he said grotesque,” Stella says. “Adding a bit of that snooty attitude of his in there.”
Greer smiles. “He can be such a snob, and I love it.” Continuing, she reads, “‘But this is not a free-for-all of sowing any sort of untapped desires.’”
“Untapped desires.” I snort. “Oh, little does he know.”
Greer continues. “‘I expect you to have fun, but to make smart decisions. This is not the time to find a baby daddy—’”
“He did not say that,” I say, sitting up with humor spread across my face.
“He did.” Greer flashes me the note. “Right there—baby daddy.”
“Look at him with some hip lingo. His students are rubbing off on him,” Stella says.
Finishing, Greer reads, “‘This is the time to have fun, but for the love of God, don’t do anything rash. I’ll finish this off with the term Greer has been saying over and over around the house, preparing for this night.’” Greer’s head lifts and her eyes connect with mine. “‘Boy, bye.’”
Laughing, I clap my hands and smile. Yup, Boy, bye is right.
“Which leads me to my next housekeeping item.” Greer reaches into her purse again and this time she pulls out a silky, white sash. She stretches it to its length, and written in gold is “Boy, bye.” “Your sash for the evening.” She hands it over to me as if it’s a sword, ready to do some serious destruction tonight.
“This is fantastic.” I slip it on over my head and settle it between my breasts.
“It’s perfect,” Greer says.
“I love it,” Stella adds.
“It’s confusing.” Keiko pees all over our parade.
We all turn our attention to Keiko, who’s tucking her napkin into her neckline. “What do you mean it’s confusing?” I glance down at the sash. “I know the grammar probably doesn’t fill your quota of proper structural usage, but it’s slang.”