I wandered around hoping to chat to Will, only to discover him making out with Jenny, who stopped sucking his face long enough to tell me that Yasmin only invited me because she wanted to hook up with Tristan. It wasn’t the worst night of my life, but it was at least top five.
“Tristan’s a snake,” Ada mutters, shifting on the bed. “If anyone’s proud of him, it should be for successfully concealing what a twat he is.”
“I know. But Iwasproud to be a nurse. Now I want to be proud of Afterglow. I just wish it was making money.”
“We’re not quite there yet?”
“No, we’re not.”
“So, we’re at the faking it ’till we’re making it stage, social-media-wise?”
“Pretty much.”
Ada sits bolt upright. “Hey, you know what brings in money?”
“I’m not doing ghost tours!”
“Boooo!” she says, falling back into the pillows. “Think of all the rubes we can spook! I will personally paint my face in liquid chalk and jump out at every man who comes in here. For free.”
“No ghost tours! I am not leaning into the bar’s murder history. People still call it ‘Bar Stab-a-Hoe.’”
“I prefer ‘Stabbies.’”
“Thanks, Ada.”
“Anytime. It’s still better than ‘Bar Navajo.’”
“Agreed. I swear, Uncle Mitch didonepeyote session in a NativeAmerican sweat lodge and made it his whole personality. That man needed DEI like I need to win the lottery.”
“More. I sincerely doubt there was an authentic Native American sweat lodge in the Waikato.”
“Probably not. But circling back to our former conversation, ‘Ex-Nurse and current owner of a struggling bar’ isn’t giving the bad bitch-reunion vibe I’m looking for.”
“I see.” Ada springs out of bed and starts rummaging through a side drawer. “You’re headed downstairs to prep, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
She produces a notebook with a flourish. “I’ll come with you, and we’ll brainstorm this thing.”
I hesitate. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here in your underwear and play shooty-gun games on the PS5 and destroy the self-esteem of gamer bros the world over?”
“Yes,” Ada says, hunting for a pen. “But that’s ultimately a lost cause. Helping you tear a new asshole in the reunion, on the other hand…”
“There’s hope?”
“Oh yeah,” she says, her dark eyes gleaming. “Let’s ride.”
We head downstairs, Ada talking a mile a minute about backless dresses and potential bar photoshoots. There’s nobody in the pub besides Aggie, leaning on the kitchen counter as she goes over next week’s specials. The old-timers will be in at three for the Saturday roast, but for now, the place is dead.
“Please don’t get too obsessed with this?” I beg Ada as I push open the door to the kitchen.
“Too late,” she says gleefully, pulling up a chair and opening her notepad. “I’m in special interest city. Population: me and your life.”
“What are you on about, Adalasia?” Aggie grumbles, looking up from her own notebook.
“Cece. I’m in charge of overhauling her image so she can fuck the dickhead of her dreams.”
Aggie harrumphs. “Start by getting her to show her tits for once.”
