“Havin’ a party, huh?” Civ snorts.
“Not exactly.” But it would be a nice alternative.
“I’ll text you the hotel name as soon as I book it. You still in Hollywood?”
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“Cool. It’ll all be ready.” He barely elevates his voice. Civ is definitely one of the coolest cucumbers I have ever met.
I hang up and turn back to Liv. She’s staring at the Bowman’s casket again, looking distraught. I have a feeling tonight's going to be intense.
“We can stay as long as you like. Everything is getting ready.”
“Thanks,” she whispers.
I put my arm around her again. I’ll risk the retribution.
Liv glances up at me, a storm of emotions brewing in her hazel eyes. Then she does something surprising. She places her head on my chest and weeps.
* * *
I feel strangelygood that Liv is comfortable enough with me to let her guard down. It’s not like we’re strangers. We have known each other since birth, but we haven't seen or spoken to each other in a long time. Friendships are sort of like riding a bike. You may not do it for a while, but it only takes a few minutes to get back into the groove.
That’s where Liv and I are, getting back into our groove. And it’s coming much easier than expected.
Civ texted me the address of the hotel, which we are currently pulling up to. It’s lucky Liv wore pants, or that ride would have been much breezier. I liked having her on the back of my bike. I liked having her arms around me and her chin on my shoulder. It felt natural. Felt right.
I secretly wonder what it felt like for her. Was it just a ride, or did it feel right, too?
She’s quiet as we walk into the light, airy, hotel lobby. She’s quiet as I meet Civ in the nearby bar to pick up the key. She’s quiet as we make our way up the elevator. She’s quiet as I slide the key card into the door handle of our room. She’s quiet as we walk in and get comfortable in our new surroundings. The hotel room is definitely not a shithole. The loft-style space has luxurious, white bedding, a huge couch, and floor-to-ceiling windows that show off LA. Civ did good. He set the place up perfectly, too. A bottle of tequila on ice, a saltshaker on the side, with a tray of shot glasses and cut-up limes. He went the distance, actually, with a cheese and fruit tray, too. In the bathroom, tucked under the sink, is a small bag with white powder. The exact place he said it would be.
We are ready to roll.
I sit down next to Liv on the couch. She’s taken her short jean jacket off and also her shoes. Her toes are painted pink, I notice. I have no idea why. Maybe I just want to inspect every inch of her. It's been so long since we’ve seen each other. Every minute spent together is another minute I realize how much I’ve missed her.
“Ready toblowoff some steam?” I make a bad joke.
Liv shakes her head. “So ready. Just please refrain from the comedy act.”
“No promises.” I reach for the tequila. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Liv agrees.
I pour two shots. We lick our wrists, shake some salt, pound them back, and then suck on the limes.
Whoa. My sinuses are now clear.
“Another,” Liv requests, and away we go.
I cut some coke on the glass table, and we take turns snorting lines. The wintery mix goes straight to our heads, and soon we’re relaxed, listening to Macklemore on the music channel, and watching the sun go down.
I watch Liv take another shot, licking her wrist before peppering it with salt. Almost the whole bottle of tequila is already gone.
“Where have you been the last ten years?” I spark some conversation. We haven't been doing much talking. Just drinking and snorting.
“Everywhere,” she relays with glassy eyes. “I went to the East Coast right after high school. To be with my mom.”
“Right, I remember. She moved out there right before your senior year.”
