“Nothing to be sorry about. You think you’re ready to get out of here? We don’t have to go home, just to the car.”
“Mayyybe wecan go get fries or tacos? I’m starving.”
Bean chuckles. “Of course we can get fries or tacos. And at some point, you can tell me what’s going on. It must be bad. You smell like vodka and cranberry juice, and you only drink that swill when you’re depressed.” She stands up, groaning from being stuck in the same position for who knows how long, and stretches out her back before grabbing one of my bags. “You know I don’t stay on my knees that long for just anyone.”
“I should fuckinghope not.”
“You remembered your bridesmaid dress and shoes, right?”
“Wedding stuff isin that one,” I say, pointing to a bag. “It was the first stuff I packed, and I kept it with me instead of checking it justincase,” I sing-song proudly.
“Smart girl, must not have been drunk yet.” She starts walking toward the door, and I follow her, albeit a lot less gracefully.
“Oh, I was on my way to drunk. But I madesure to pack the important stuff first. Except my comb. Shit, I forgot my comb.” I stop and drop my head back. “It’s the best comb, with big, wide teeth, Bean.”
“So we’ll get you a new one.”
“Yeah, okay.” I puff out my breath loudly and start moving again.
We load my bags in the trunk and get in the car. Bean looks at me, concern showing on her face.
“Can weget deep-fried appetizers from Mickey’s?” I ask, breaking our silence after a few minutes. She raises an eyebrow in response, and I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Just…last night, I had thebest sex of my life and my heart broken. In that order.”
Bean cringes. “The guy from work you’ve been in love with for a year?”
I nod.
“Deep-fried appetizers it is.”
She pulls out of the parking garage and drives to Mickey’s Bar and Grill. We can always count on our favorite local place for greasy food, strong drinks, and friendly smiles.
Dolly greets us with a wide grin as we shuffle through the door. “Welcome in—Minnie! What are you doing here already?”
“I’m here forthefood,” I declare.
“Mmmhmmm.” Dolly puts her hands on her hips and furrows her brow before shaking her head, sending her white hair bouncing. “Go sit your ass down before you fall over.”
Bean steers me toward a booth. “Can we get some fried stuff A-sap please, Dolly?”
“And some margaritas?” I add.
Dolly laughs as she walks past us to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s not happening.”
“Figures,” I mutter, dropping onto the vinyl-covered bench with a thud.
“Don’t make me text your mother, Minnie Sinclair,” she calls out over her shoulder. Bean and I look at each other, eyes wide, and burst into giggles. Dolly has known us forever and has indeed texted my mother more than once about us being brats or needing a ride home.
Like the best friend that she is, Bean lets me talk about everything except why I’m home now instead of in a week. She won’t try to drag the story out of me for a few days, but if I don’t talk soon, all bets are off. She’ll go mama bear on me, demanding to know who hurt me, and then start making plans for revenge. I love her for that. I’m the same way with her. I put dead fish in the trunk of Bobby Miller’s car after he cheated on her. I hid those stinky things everywhere, too. He was finding them for weeks. It was glorious.
“Ugh, I should let Momknow I’m home so no one freaks out when I try to sneak in but end up making a shit ton of noise because I’m toooooo drunk to be quiet,” I say, my forehead on the table. I wish I had room in my stomach for the last mozzarella stick.
“I called her when I was on my way to pick you up.”
“Thanks, Bean.” I place my hand on the table, and she covers it with hers.
“You’re my best friend, Min. I got you.”
It’s late when she helps me get upstairs to my room. We don’t bother bringing my bags in. They can stay in the car until morning since it’s right next door. I should shower after all the booze and recycled air, but that can wait until morning,too. I toss my shoes, pants, and bra in the corner and crawl under the covers.
