“I’m going to kill you!” I say, with a laugh, when I catch Leah’s eye.
She howls and waves her hands in the air. “Enjoy it Emma!”
I start to smile and laugh at her happiness when the stripper, who was standing on the ground in front of me, leaps from the floor, up in the air and lands on the bed with his knees on each side of my waist and he is straddling me.
Oh, dear God. I hope he doesn’t . . .
Yeah, he is.
The stripper dances and moves up my body, gyrating his pelvis. I raise my hands to cover my face, blocking out the sight of what he’s doing and the awful smell of stale oil and stinky boy that he is dripping all over me.
The girls love every minute of it. Lisa is the only one who looks slightly uncomfortable for my sake. I’m starting to question my judgment of asking my work friends to come out.
I turn my head to the side to avoid the banana hammock from coming anywhere near my face. The stripper sits straight up, and I am instantly relieved, thinking the show is over, when he does a mock push-up over my body and then pretends he is penetrating me.
“Okay, that’s enough!”
I push my hand out and shove him away. Rising from the bed, I push past him, ignoring his fake hurt look—puppy-dog eyes, a stuck-out lower lip, and hands over his heart. When Leah pushes a twenty into his G-string, all is forgotten, and he moves on to his next victim.
“You’re a good sport.” Lisa pats me on the back and hands me a drink. It’s pink, girly and just what I need.
“Yeah, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Crystal asks, helping me readjust my halter-top. “Aren’t you glad I told you to wear pants!”
I take a sip of my Cosmo and release the straw. “Thank God. I would have died if he did that while I was wearing a skirt!”
“Now that you got that over with, let’s dance!” Crystal beams and the three of us dance to the Calvin Harris song playing. It’s nice having Crystal and Lisa here. Turns out they were in need of a girl’s night.
Looks like I was too.
My life was always about music and perfecting my craft. I did go to a few keggers and house parties in high school. But not all the time. More often than not, I had a competition or recital to go to. Then in college I met Parker, who shared my passion. Instead of getting rip-roaring drunk, we went to dinner, art galleries, and the theater. My time in Pittsburgh was about culture. It was what Parker and I wanted to do.
I can’t say I never had fun. When I was back home, I was at the bar with Leah. Before she opened McConaughey’s, she worked there as a bartender when it went by another name. Amstel Light was my drink of choice, and I sang along to the silly karaoke tunes.
My Pittsburgh life and my Cedar Ridge life were complete opposites. When I was home I could let go. Leah and Luke were always getting me to do crazy stuff with them. But when I went back to Pittsburgh, I morphed back into the polished violist. It seems the longer I stayed in Pittsburgh, the more I lost the fun me.
My arms rise above my head as I dance, getting a little closer to Crystal and moving to the rhythm of the music. The beat is traveling from my fingertips down through my hips and into my toes. When you dance, you not only hear the music but you feel it. Maybe it’s the pink elixir working through me but I am feeling it—and it feels great.
The other girls, including Leah, join Crystal, Lisa, and me on the dance floor and the seven of us dance, forming a circle. We dance for a few more songs, twirling each other, some girls rubbing up against another in an attempt to be sexy and others just dance and enjoy the company. Exhausted, we all take a spot on the bed.
“This is the best night, ever!” Leah says, swaying slightly with her words. She has easily drunk double the amount I have. She turns to Crystal, and her finger loses traction in the air. “You are awesome! I’m so glad Emma found you!”
Crystal puts her arm around me. “I love Emma. She’s amazing!”
“That,” Leah says with a hiccup, “is very true. My sister is amazing!” Her words rise in a high pitch at the wordamazing.
Lisa and I exchange a look at my sister’s obvious intoxication. She’s not in the danger zone, just yet. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too smashed. Right now, she’s giddy drunk.
“What is it like living in Manhattan? Is it likeSex and the City?” Jessica asks.
“Yeah, do you, like, hook up with guys all the time?” Kimberly directs her question to Crystal and me. She learned earlier that Lisa is married.
Crystal and I both scrunch our noses at her question. “No.”
“Emma does not do one-night stands. She’s a good girl,” Leah says, leaning to the side before catching her weight and righting herself.
I take a big sip of my drink, trying not to think about the last time I was with a man.
“Except for the asshole,” Leah adds and I nearly spit my drink out.
