In the sacred tequila temple. Pretending to believe in a ritual we don't understand, surrounded by people too drunk to care, whispering nonsense to each other while Noah blesses a lime and Lorenzo screams: "LET THE AGAVE CLEANSE US!"
Lorenzo stands up. "I AM EL DIABLO DEL SUR. I SPEAK FOR THE TEQUILA."
He has a shot glass balanced on his head. Someone pours directly into it from above. It overflows instantly. He doesn't flinch. Then a guy in a cowboy hat screams, grabs the bottle of mezcal, and chases another dude around the room.
"CLEANSE YOUR SOUL, YOU COWARD!"
A girl tackles someone into the cushions. We run. Literally run out of that tequila cult.
Gio has his arm around Lorenzo's neck, dragging him like a hostage while Noah is behind us, waving at the ritual people.
"Thank you! I love you! May the agave bless you forever!" The door slams shut behind us. And then Noah turns to me, out of breath.
"Rava, record this!"
He hands me a half-dead lime like it is sacred. "This is going to be Episode 1."
I lift my phone, already wheezing from laughter. "Of what?" He looks at the camera like it's HBO.
"Of my new series: 'Things My Therapist Said Not To Do'." The video is already recording. I am crying from laughter. I can't feel my legs. Everything is wet and sticky and smells like tequila.
Noah stands in front of me. Hair soaked. Shirt ripped down the side. Holding a firework in one hand and a traffic cone in the other. "This one's called Operation Flaming Unicorn."
I nearly drop my phone. "Noah, what the actual fuck—"
"TRUST THE VISION, YOU DICK."
Gio appears out of nowhere, holding a half-eaten sandwich and a Red Bull. Looks Noah up and down. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. Rava, stop recording."
"Too late," I wheeze.
Lorenzo is also five feet away, leaned against a lemon tree, violently throwing up, then raising a thumbs-up with his free hand.
Fucking legend.
Noah has wedged the traffic cone onto his head like a helmet. "I'M A CREATURE OF LIGHT AND FIRE!"
"You're gonna light your hair on fire," Gio yells, already tossing the sandwich and running after him. Suddenly, BOOM. A nearby firework goes off from someone else's yard.
Noah SCREAMS. Drops the firework. It slides across the lawn, spinning. Straight toward a group of people trying to climb a tree for no reason.
"INCOMING!"
Sparks fly. Screams. A guy falls out of the tree and lands in a kiddie pool with a saxophone. Gio dives on Noah, dragging him to the ground like they are in war. "I FUCKING TOLD YOU."
Meanwhile, a random girl runs past me yelling.
"DOES ANYONE HAVE ICE FOR MY PIGEON?!"
I don't ask. Somehow, a guy is now DJing using a car battery and a Bluetooth speaker.
Someone else rides a bicycle through the living room. And through it all, I just keep filming. I turn the camera on myself.
My hair plastered to my face. "If we survive this night," I say, dead serious, "we're never speaking of it again."
Flash. The firework explodes in the sky behind me. Noah sits up, blinking. "Did I win?"
"You fucking almost killed a saxophone player, bro," Gio yells at him while laughing. Lorenzo throws up again.
