I try to take a sip of my glass and ignore her question, but Chelsea points a manicured finger at me.
“What happened at the sex club, Dr. Morely?”
Savannah puts her drink down and rests her hand on her palm. “Yeah, what happened? In very explicit detail.”
“Do you remember the night we went out to the marina bar?”
“Carlson’s?” Chelsea so helpfully adds. “The very fucking hot bartender who popped your divorced lady cherry.”
I glare at her, but then nod. “Yeah, that one. He also has a membership.”
“He must make a lot of tips. I mean, he’s ridiculously good looking, but even so,” Savannah says.
“He owns the place.”
“Holy shit. What’s his name? Aiden? No, that’s the baseball player one. God, have you seen him?” Chelsea slurs, pulling out her phone and typing this man's name all wrong, but finally some images pull up. “Look at that tight little ass in those baseball shorts. But he has to be what? Forty-five now?”
“Ben is mid thirties, that must be his older brother. I wonder if he’s the one who got in the car accident.”
Savannah and Chelsea both squint at me in confusion, like they’re trying to follow my story that is making little sense.
“Alright, let me start from the beginning.”
Five salacious drag show performances,too much alcohol, and my current sexual history later…
“Why are you paying so much money when all you want to do is fuck this one guy? He sounds perfect, your little freak match,” Savannah says with a hiccup.
“You really went there every night this week to see if his brother is alright, and didn’t take up any of the other guys offering their willing dick on a platter?” Chelsea says, her eyes completely glazed over.
“I don’t have his number, and I felt bad. And okay, yeah, I wasn’t interested in anyone else there, just him.”
Savannah boops my nose. “You little sweet fucking perfect idiot. You know where he works.”
Chelsea snaps her fingers. “Right! You should just go there, check on how his brother’s doing and maybe I don’t know, peg him and come back and tell me what it’s like. Alex gets weird even if I grab a butt cheek,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
“Who would have thought our little Kate would wind up being the least innocent out of all of us? I agree. Go to his job and find out what’s going on. At least you won’t be going to that club all night just waiting around.”
“Isn’t that crossing some sort of boundary?” I ask, nibbling on my lip.
Maybe it’s the champagne sloshing around in my brain like a ship in Drake’s Passage, but this idea has some merit to it.
“I’ll think about it,” I say and Savannah looks irritated but nods, anyway.
“Are you sure you don’t want Alex to drive you home?” Chelsea asks as I sign our check and we walk out of the restaurant.
“That’s okay. I’m on the other side of town. I’ll see you guys next weekend. This was fun. I really am so proud of you, Sav,” I say, hugging her, and we both sway and nearly fall over as Chelsea’s husband, Alex, pulls up to the curb.
“Oh, boy, I see we all had lots of fun at drag show brunch,” he says with a smile.
“So much fun. Play your cards right, mister, and you might get a BJ,” Chelsea says, making Savannah and I both snicker like we’re twelve.
Alex shakes his head and clears his throat. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride, Kate? It’s not a big deal.”
I wave him off. “Nah, you guys head home. I’m putting in for a ride right now.”
“Text me as soon as you get home,” Chelsea says in her mom voice.
“Of course I will,” I say, holding up the phone, showing that my ride will be here in one minute.
