Well, fuck. I got what I wanted. I became buddy-buddy with my boss in an instant.
But the cost will be hefty…finding a husband by tomorrow.
Chapter Two
SCOTTIE
“Something strong,” I say, setting my purse on the bar top and sliding onto a leather barstool.
“Yikes, what happened to you?” Mika, my best friend, asks as he places a napkin and a bowl of pretzels in front of me.
I lean on the counter and say, “I had the worst day of my life.”
The only thing that can take this headache away is a flammable drink and a night at Stockings—the best gay bar in town with drag shows every weekend. I became addicted to coming once I found the place back in college, especially on the weekends. Not only are the drag shows fire, but I love the aesthetic of the bar. Concrete floors, black walls, and pantyhose everywhere. All shapes, all sizes, all colors. They dangle from the ceiling, they’re framed on the wall, and they’re the curtains for the drag show.
Looking for a good time, come to Stockings; you won’t be disappointed.
Mika winces as he starts filling up a tumbler with alcohol—not even sure what kind, but I don’t care. I’ll take whatever I can get. “Did Chad forget multiple commas this time?”
“I wish.” I toss my hands up in the air just as someone slides onto the stool next to me.
“It’s time to celebrate,” my other best friend, Denise, says as she slaps her hand on the counter. “Guess who just booked a big wedding for this weekend?” She points to herself. “This girl. The makeup artist booked for the Coopertart wedding got the flu, and they called me to fill in. Me! I mean, I hope the flu girl is okay, but oh my God, the luck. I’m telling you, this is going to be a game changer for me, and I plan on doing all the social media. We’re talking Brie Coopertart. BRIE!” she shouts. Silence falls between us, because this is really bad timing on Denise’s part, not that she’d know though. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you screaming for me? Mika, you love Brie.”
“Yeah, it’s just that Scottie came in here kind of upset.”
“Oh shit, really?” Denise turns toward me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I smile at her and muster all the excitement I can for my friend. “Wow, Brie Coopertart, that’s amazing. Isn’t that wedding the talk of the town right now? It’s being held at the public library, right?”
“Yes.” Denise eyes me for a second. “It’s supposed to be huge, and the media is going to be all over it. I was placed as backup in case something happened to her makeup artist, and lo and behold, she got sick. And once again, not happy that she’s sick, because that sucks, but also, I’m positively thrilled she got sick.” Denise claps the tips of her fingers together in glee.
Being the good friend that I am, I turn toward her and give her a hug. “This is huge. I’m so happy for you.”
Denise has been a makeup artist for several years now. She started doing makeup for fashion designers for their runway shows. She actually started with nails, volunteering to paint themodels’ nails. Then she worked her way up to makeup. She now has quite a successful online presence, has really come into herself, her brand, and I can easily see her going places with her determination. It’s fun to watch her grow—even if she’s wishing illness on others.
“Thank you. I met with Brie and the bridesmaids today to do a makeup trial, just to make sure I have everything they might need. I’m grateful it’s just her and two of her friends. Their wedding party is small, but the extravagance. I can’t wait. I’m spending all day tomorrow making a game plan, cleaning all my brushes, and making sure everything is ready for Saturday. Eeep, I’m so excited.”
Mika sets my drink in front of me and whispers, “Drink slowly.” Then he turns to Denise and asks, “Same as usual?”
“Please.” Denise picks up a pretzel and shoves it in her mouth. “Ahhh, I’m so excited. God, is that tar and stomach acid in your tumbler? I can smell it from here.”
I lift it to my nose and feel every hair in my eyebrows curl into coils. “Jesus, Mika. Is this gasoline?”
“You said you wanted something strong. That’s the strongest.”
Mika has been bartending at Stockings since I’ve known him; that’s how we met actually. I stumbled into the bar, looking for a good time, and he was the one serving. I, of course, was trying to hit on him because I was drunk and his black hair and gray eyes are hard not to drool at, but sad for me, he’s gay. Nonetheless, we formed a bond, and he’s now my best guy.
“That should be illegal,” Denise says, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Drink that and lose your esophagus.”
Mika plants an Angry Orchard in front of Denise. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not.” Denise takes a sip of her drink. “I’m scared for our friend.” She pokes me in the arm. “What could be that bad that you need a drink like that?”
“Strap in, because I have a story for you…”
When I set my drink down, I look up at my friends and find utter shock splayed across their faces, both blinking, both with their mouths open.
In the distance, our favorite drag queen, Miss Guided, takes the stage and cheers erupt all around us, but it’s all ignored as my friends process the day I just had.
