“Crap, you’re kidding—two in the morning. What the hell is wrong with you? I just finally fell asleep an hour ago,” she groaned.
Everyone around me was in stitches hearing her.
“Wow, the cackling hens are there,” she said through the line.
“Did we wake you up from that scene you just described?” Alley yelled out.
Dusty scoffed. “Shit, I wish.”
“So just your fantasy!” Teal shouted.
“I plead the fifth,” Dusty quipped and then in a teasing voice added, “So, what do I owe this displeasure to?”
“Be nice,” I told her. “We just miss you, and we're talking about my upcoming wedding. Or renewal of vows, whatever you want to call it.”
“You deserve this,” my friend said, such serenity in her voice that I felt my eyes get misty.
London, who was next to me, bumped her shoulder with mine. “You totally do.”
“Does anyone else think that Alley and Dusty are like almost replicas of each other in the personality department?” Jurnee asked. “Smartass with a heart of gold.”
“I can’t give a beatdown like Dusty,” Alley said.
“Bullshit,” Dusty shot back. “Bat or no bat, I have faith you can.”
“Oh my gosh, I just thought of something,” Brinley announced. “While we are all here and Dusty is on the phone, let’s pick her out a special ringtone.”
“Really? You all are gonna make me cry,” Dusty joked. “But yeah, I totally want one.”
“Put your thinking hats on, ladies,” Teal called out. “Some of us have songs based on our appearance, personalities, our relationships, and our pasts. We will find you a good one, girl.”
Dusty whistled through the phone. “Wait. I want to know what each of your songs are.”
Gemma jumped into the fray, taking control in her teacher voice—she was in her element. “Okay, this is how we’re going to do this, ladies. When I point to you, call out your name, your ringtone song, and who sings it.”
Dusty couldn’t see everyone nodding, their eyes glued to Gemma waiting for her command, but we were ready. Our friend was still young, but she was a great teacher; kids loved her, and even though her tone held authority, it was still kind.
“Okay, here we go!” Gemma yelled, pointing at Jurnee first.
“Jurnee. ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ by Van Morrison.”
“Summer. ‘Gorgeous’ by Kane Brown.”
“Alley. ‘Bad Reputation’ by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts,” she said with a smirk.
All the ladies' songs were chosen by the group, not by us, and we all went with it—some more enthusiastically than others judging by the satisfied look on Alley’s face.
Gemma pointed again, and we kept going.
“Teal. ‘Hero’ by Mariah Carey.”
“Brinley. ‘Baby One More Time’ by Britney Spears.”
“Ruby. ‘Oh, Pretty Woman’ by Roy Orbison.”
I nearly giggled at the blush on Ruby’s face as she took her turn. Summer had done the same. All my friends were beautiful, but Ruby and Summer were kind of in a league of their own, and they both thought we were silly for our song picks.
“Gemma. ‘Broken and Beautiful’ by Kelly Clarkson.”
