“Hi, Mummy!” Her sweet little voice comes across the line, tugging at my heart. “We went fishing this afternoon, and Grandpa let me drive the boat.”
I smile at the image of it, remembering doing the exact same thing at her age. “Well, that is just wonderful, sweetie. Sounds like you’re having a great time.”
“I am. I been in the new pool all day ’cept when we went fishing. Grandpa says I’m part mermaid. Grandma says I can stay up until 9 o’clock and I’m allowed to eat ice cream before bed.”
How is she back on ice cream again after vomiting up so much of it only a few days ago? Kids really do bounce back faster than adults. I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink, trying to discern if I look as tipsy as I feel.
My eyes are drawn to my chest by the glittery penis. Huh. Perhaps this T-shirt doesn’t look so bad on me after all. I cover-up the penis with my hand and wonder if it would be possible to lose 15 pounds, then get these stupid letters and the dick off of it.
“Grandma wants to talk to you.”
Awesome. “Okay, Honey Bunny. I love you so, so, so much. You have a terrific sleep, and I will call you again tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, chicky!”
“Brianna?” My mom says.
“In the flesh. Well, I mean, on the phone.” I chuckle at my own joke.
“How are things going?”
“Good, yeah, everyone’s having a great time,” I say, carefully pronouncing my words so I don’t sound drunk. “The villa is very nice. We’re finishing up supper.”
“Good,” my mum says, her tone conveying concern. “I just wanted to make sure everything is going all right between you and the rest of the girls. Sometimes these things get a little out of hand, and I don’t want you to ruin it for Amber.”
“Oh, well, thanks for your faith in me.”
“That didn’t come out right. It’s just that…you know how you have a bit of an edge? Maybe you could tuck that away for the next couple days and make sure everybody has a really nice time…for Amber?”
Rolling my eyes, I make a face in the mirror. “Yeah, don’t worry. I left all my sharp edges at home so no one would get hurt.”
“See? There’s that sarcasm. I don’t think you left all your edges at home, young lady.”
“Mum, I scrounged up a thousand dollars to be on this trip so I can make my little sister happy. Do youreally thinkI’d do that if I was planning to ruin everything?”
“Well, no.” She sniffs. “Not on purpose, obviously.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know how to behave, Mother,” I say with a sigh. “Now, I better go. I don’t want them to have to wait for me. They’re all eager to get to the first strip club. Apparently, it’s ladies’ night, and drinks are only a dollar until ten p.m.”
That’s not true, we’re not going to a strip club, but why not horrify my mother if I get the chance? I hang up the phone before she can protest, then pull the door open and walk very deliberately back toward our table, hoping I appear respectably sober-ish. A greasy-looking guy, who’s incidentally sitting at a table with either his wife or girlfriend, gives me the once-over and a knowing grin directly at my penis-clad chest. Gross.
Valerie screams when she sees me as though I’m her long-lost twin. “There’s Bitch One!”
Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, we’ve all been numbered now, like Thing One and Thing Two from Dr. Seuss, only in our case, there are Bitches One through Four. But that’s okay, at least it’s better than what they’re calling Amber. Instead of the Cat in the Hat she’s the C*nt on the Hunt.
I think I’ll have another drink…
***
“I’m not saying nobody else should get tattoos. I’m sayingI’m notdoing it.” We’re now standing in the lobby of Randy Andy’s Tattoos & Piercing Emporium, which, if you ask me, should be renamed Randy Andy’s Dungeon of Dirty Needles and STI’s. Other than Randy Andy, there’s a super-high-looking blond surfer dude already sporting sleeves of tattoos. He’s sitting on one of the metal chairs in the waiting area sipping a massive can of Red Bull as he pours over the sample binders.
It’s ten p.m., and for some reason, Quinn booked us for tattoos at this hour. I’m ready to go back to the villa, put on my jammies, and curl up with a book. Instead, we’re getting tattoos followed by barhopping until six a.m.
Quinn smiles at Andy. “Sorry about this. We’ll just be a second.” Turning to me, she lowers her voice. “I put a lot of work into finding the best place. According to Google reviews, this place has a 4.1-star rating, which is the best on the island.”
So for Quinn, “a lot of work” is googling something on her phone. Perfect. “Yeah, 4.1 out of five feels like a miss to me when it comes topermanently alteringyour body. That means, mathematically speaking, almost one out of every five people who walks in here excited leaves not-so-happyfor the rest of their lives.” I point around the circle, counting, “One, two, three, four, five. One of us is going to leave really upset. Possibly forever.” Glancing over my shoulder, I say, “No offense, Randy.”
“It’s Andy. None taken,” he says with a quick nod.
