Looking at my wardrobe, I tapped my foot as I reached for my phone.
“Bea?” I asked. “Hey, it’s Mia. Who’s hosting this evening?”
“Hey, girl, volleyball house, they’re goinghuge,” Bea told me excitedly over the phone. “You coming?”
“Absolutely,” I told her as I pulled out a little black dress. “Meet you there?”
When I confirmed the time to meet Bea, I checked the time and decided to take a quick nap before my shower and sleep off any lingering effects of my earlier hangover. By the time I left the apartment, there was no sign of my roommate and no text messages from anyone else.
I was on my own, and that made me sad. Forcing the sadness away, I vowed to have a great evening.
Late November was cold at night, and as I walked to the volleyball house with three-inch-heeled knee-high boots on, I regretted my choice of dress. It was too late to go home and change, and I looked hot. I wasn’t looking to hook up, but a girl had to be ready for any possibility. Unlike Ash, I didn’t hop from bed to bed.
Jerkface.
Bea was waiting inside the main entrance for me and quickly told me that Wade was miserable, as yet again he had lost a member of the band. Alex had quit to join some heavy metal cover band.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked Bea as we approached Wade, who looked like a kicked puppy.
“Get him really,reallydrunk, and then I’m going to take him back to my room and let him do whatever he wants.”
Squinting at Bea, I looked at her. “Will he, you know . . . be able, if he’s wasted?”
Bea grinned. “No, he won’t, but the idea he’s getting whatever he wants off the menu will perk him up . . . without being able toperkhim up.”
I laughed, and it was the first time I had laughed out loud all day. Yes, I needed this, away from the stupid football team and their stupid drama. “I love it,” I said as I opened my arms to give Wade a hug in commiseration and realized he was halfway to being hammered already.
Taking a bottle of beer off Bea, I looked around the party. I felt no guilt at being here. I was going to have a good night. I didn’t need a babysitter.
A few hours later, I was exhausted. My feet were killing me in these boots, Wade had slumped on the couch and was half asleep, and Bea and I had danced to almost every song played. Not one football player had turned up, and I think the volleyball team were sulking, but the basketball team were here, and I had seen the player, Denzel, who let Quinn make cocktails on Halloween, stare at me a few times.
As Bea went to the bathroom, I perched on the couch beside Wade.
“I have to give back all the advanced money, you know.”
Looking down at him, I saw him staring across the room, not really focused on anything. “What money?”
“I get advances for gigs, and now that Alex has decided to be the next James Hetfield, I have no singer and therefore no gig.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him as I rubbed his arm in commiseration. “You’ll find someone.”
Wade looked up at me. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked him distractedly as I watched Denzel watchmefrom across the room.
“Sing!” Wade cried out, causing me to jump in surprise.
“Wade!” I scolded him as I wiped the beer off my leg and glared at him. “I’m right here.”
“You sing so fucking amazingly, Mia, you would be perfect for my band.”
“We’ve had this conversation,” I reminded him. “I can’t.” Then I remembered my mom telling me to get a job. “How much does it pay?” I asked him quietly.
Wade turned in his seat so quickly I had to stand to avoid being knocked off the armrest. “I get four hundred, sometimes five. I keep one hundred for the band equipment, and the rest is a straight share.”
I had more beers than I needed to be able to do this math. “What is that? Seventy?”
“Seventy-five per gig.”
