“Brendan Barnes.”
My heart stops and the room’s temperature spikes ten billion degrees. “The Pirate King from The Knights of the Night?”
Alana gives a small nod, and the squeals are deafening.
“You have the hottest clients. First Grae, and now Brendan. Both of those guys were in my mental rotation while my ex was fucking me,” Waverly explains. TMI, but not bad selections. “But now my boyfriend holds my attention long enough to get the job started and finished. A couple of times.”
“Did you see his interview for the season three promotional tour? The story about losing his chinchilla in a hotel room for two weeks had me cracking up for hours.” Izzy doubles over in a fit of giggles.
Katya leans back into the bench and sighs. “It’s the Pirate Prince that does it for me. The dark and broody, deep-down cinnamon roll kinda guy.”
“Wait? You mean you’re attracted to a character who is a literal description of your boyfriend? So weird.” Izzy is laughing so hard little tears leak out, but I can see through the emotional masks, and the story isn’t nearly as funny as she’s making it out to be. Poor Izzy is forcing herself to have fun. Been there, sister.
Waverly pushes her hair over her ear and reaches for her drink. “The Pirate King is fine… but he’s fictional. It’s super unprofessional for most of you, but I don’t work for Mastodon, so I’m allowed to objectify him…” She pauses her thoughts for dramatic effect, before adding, “Grae.”
The rest of the girls gush about how hot Grae is, and they are not wrong. I could get pregnant looking at him. Waverly fans herself, Izzy pulls her hair into a ponytail, and Katya has a lustful grin on her face. At first glance, Alana seems unfazed by the comments, like she’s heard them all before. But there’s a line near her right eye that wasn’t there before the conversation started. She swallows but never wavers her attention from her friends.
Is she uncomfortable? She seemed fine with us objectifying Brendan, but something about this seems different. Her breathing is controlled, but not because it’s natural—it’s because she’s forcing herself.
Super-inviting women who mask their feelings and have the same fan boyfriends I do? Have I found my people? Could these women be my tribe? Ok, be cool, Jenny. Your newfound bestie seems to be struggling here, and you’re the only one who’s noticed.
Time for a diversion.
“Who’s gonna pick the first song?” I chime in. “Are we doing hairbrush pop? Amanda Chase? Maybe classics like ‘Don’t Stop Believin’? Izzy, it’s your vice, get us started.”
“Oh, I’ve got one.” She grabs Waverly’s arm. “And you’re doing it with me. In honor of Nonna, we’re going to sing five ABBA songs. And”—she points to Alana—“you have to join us for one.”
Alana’s resting bitch face deepens. “I don’t do anything I’m not good at, and singing is one of those things.”
Izzy juts out her lower lip. “For Nonna.”
Alana sneers like she’s eating a bag of lemon coated Sour Patch Kids. “You’re playing dirty.”
I nudge her. “‘Waterloo’ doesn’t have the high notes. ‘Dancing Queen’ does.”
Her RBF loosens, and she responds, “Fine, but Jenny is singing, too.”
They all cheer, and Katya sets up the machine. While they’re all distracted, I lean over to Alana. “Thought you needed a topic change.”
She exhales. “Fucking neurodivergent super brains. It’s annoying how little I can get past you guys.”
She knows! I can’t tell if it’s a complement or not, but my fear of rejection isn’t freaking out.
I shrug. “I know a lot about masking, and yours was starting to slip. I figured I would help you out.”
She points her glass at me. “It’s fucking exhausting, and why I won’t go out again for another couple of weeks. I’ll blame it on work, but I already need to recharge.”
The other three women start singing, and it’s more than a car wreck—it’s one of those videos of cars driving downhill in an ice storm, and everyone is sliding into each other, and when it can’t get worse, it does.
Alana points to the stage. “This shit is your fault. I was hoping to keep them distracted for as long as I could without having them sing.”
“I think you’re missing the point of Vice Night.”
“I’m not missing it, but I was trying to avoid it.” She watches as Waverly and Izzy do matching hand motions, and Katya lags a beat behind, then turns back to me. “You’re a good addition. I approve.” I don’t know why this woman I’ve met twice now approves of me, and I don’t know why it means so much, but it does. “Do me a favor though?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Let your mask drop. Be the little chaos gremlin Nonna said you were. Two of those women are daughters of mafia bosses, the other is a former spy. None of them are judgy or have any right to be.”
