Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  I threw my head back and gazed at the clouds. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Standing at a safe distance, now somewhat paranoid of fire, I walked up beside him and he lifted the dipstick for me to see. “I just had it changed two weeks ago . . .”

  “Must’ve gotten a leak, I guess.” He replaced the dipstick and sighed. “The engine’s probably seized.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked, clenching my fists.

  “It means Eddie’s a goner.” Vince tapped the edge of the hood.

  I could feel my nails digging into my skin, and I released the explosion of anger at the car door in one big swing. “FUCK!” I screamed. “God-fucking-dammit. How? In two days . . . everything . . .” On the verge of breaking down, I collapsed to my knees, tears flooding my face.

  Vince knelt beside me, his arms hugging my shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I can buy you a new car, any car—how about a Ferrari?”

  I pushed his hand away. “I don’t want you to buy me a new car, Vince. Stop trying to throw money at me.”

  His face soured, realizing the mistake. “Well, why don’t you take the EverGo? I didn’t pay for it. There’s no money involved and I never use it. It’s just sitting in the garage.”

  I shook my head, not considering the offer. I was too pissed off for his charity.

  “Just for the weekend,” he added, “or until you can find a new one.”

  I hung my head. There was no reason to refuse his offer, besides maybe too much pride, but I couldn’t let that stand in the way. Despite not liking handouts, I had to face the fact that I was drowning and needed a life preserver. He lifted me off of my knees as I yielded, accepting his offer.

  After calling Junk My Car, they came and towed Eddie away. It was hard to say goodbye after so many years of reliability. Vince whipped up a huge breakfast, but without much of an appetite, I nibbled on a few bites and that was it.

  With such a terrible week, it was hard to get excited for the night and Danielle’s bachelorette party, which I’d been looking forward to for so long, planning how it would all go. Now I didn’t care so much, and that was depressing in itself.

  “Come on, you need this,” Danielle said when I got home. “Tonight is a night to let go, to have fun, and forget about all that real shit, you know?” She grabbed my hands. “Let’s get you something to wear.” She dragged me to my room, and before I could protest, I was sucked into the glorious world of Danielle’s outfit compositional skills.

  Before long, we were ready to hit the town.

  22

  AN UNEXPECTED KISS

  Meeting up at Becky’s, I had forgotten about all the gear we’d bought months ago, storing it all at her place so Danielle wouldn’t find it with her snooping eyes. It turned out our outfits weren’t that important because of the pink tank-top dresses that read, “Help Us Tank Her Before She Sets Anchor.” We were all decked out with white “Bride’s Crew” pins and tiaras. Danielle of course had the complete package with a white tank-top dress that read “Tank Me I’m The Bride To Be,” a fancier tiara, a “Bride” pin, a fancy black sash that read “The Bachelorette” in hot pink, and a shot glass necklace that said, “Last Shot of Freedom.”

  By the time everyone had arrived, there were nine women in total. Danielle pulled me aside to warn me about one of the girls I didn’t know, an old coworker of hers. “Nikki’s a seductress,” she said.

  “And that means. . .?”

  “It means she likes to get women to do things—sexual things.”

  I sighed. “I’m not gay.”

  “Gay or straight, she doesn’t care. Just watch out for her, all right?”

  “For you?” I asked, a bit confused.

  “For yourself,” she answered. “She’s got a weird ability to lure girls in without them having a clue what’s going on—that is, until the next morning, when they wake up next to her. I’ve seen it happen before—more than once, in fact.”

  “Right,” I said sarcastically, nodding.

  Danielle pinched my arm. “I’m serious.”

  “All right, I’ll watch out.” I batted away her claws. “Your job isn’t to worry about me tonight; it’s to get as many free drinks as you can.”

  “Please, with these girls”—she held up her breasts—“I can get drunk in ten minutes.”

  “I didn’t say your job was to drink all the free drinks,” I laughed. We left a few minutes later, parking at the Park & Ride on Ninety-second by SE Powell, where we took the MAX downtown.

  When we arrived at Fifth and Burnside, we were about fifteen minutes early for our reservation. Portland City Grill was on the thirtieth floor, but the elevator ride only took a couple of seconds. Even though we were early, our tables were ready, situated in a corner by the windows. Half of our table was a booth and the other half were chairs, prepared for eight since Nikki was a last-minute addition.

  I sat in the booth by the right aisle, Danielle beside me. Bridgett went to sit across from me, but Nikki snagged the seat. Bridgett shrugged and sat at the opposite end by Becky.

  “I’m so glad to finally get to meet you,” Nikki said, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. She looked like a stereotypical blond bimbo, with too much makeup and big pink lips—this struck me as odd because Danielle said she was really smart. Apparently, this was her night to cut loose too. If she had dialed back the makeup, men probably would have referred to her as a blond bombshell rather than a bimbo. Danielle and Ashley often did just that, likening her to Carrie Underwood—only with Danielle’s bust.

  “You too,” I replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Danielle.”

  “I hope it was all good.” She unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. “Sometimes I have wild streaks that people like to talk about.” The waiter came by with water before I could reply, and we all ordered drinks, killing the conversation.

  “So, I here you’re dating a billionaire,” Nikki continued.

  I nodded and smiled weakly.

  “Don’t like to talk about it?”

  “They enjoy their privacy,” Danielle said, winking at me.

  Nikki shuffled in her seat. “Oh, so that means you won’t share how big his junk is?”

  “And why would you care?” Danielle asked.

  “I enjoy a real one from time to time,” she laughed. The topic turned to her stories of sexual conquest—something I didn’t mind, as long as the conversation didn’t return to Vince. I wasn’t comfortable talking about our relationship with people I didn’t know.

  The food arrived not too long after we ordered, the drinks flowing during the meantime, and I had to stop Danielle before she went overboard. It was too early in the evening for her to crash.

  Halfway through dinner and after her second drink, Nikki suddenly started rubbing my calf with her foot, her skin grazing mine with a soft, practiced touch. She didn’t look at me as she slid up and down, talking to the woman next to her. At first I thought it was an accident, but after a few seconds, her intentions were clear, and I shifted in the booth.

  About five minutes later she tried again, her bare leg on my bare leg. The weird thing about it was that I didn’t hate her touch. It was different than Vince’s hairy legs, so silky and clean, and more electrifying than when my legs grazed each other.

  We were all good and buzzed and almost ready to leave when Danielle, Becky, and I decided to go to the bathroom. On the way there, I overheard a guy say, “Look at those sluts.”

  I stopped at his table. “Excuse me?” My blood was boiling, my anger ready to blow after such a devastating week.

  “You can’t deny it,” the guy said. “You’re sluts.”

  “Yeah, hon, he’s right,” a woman said, the only one sitting with the group of five guys. “You’re sluts.” The other guys were all laughing, but said nothing.

  “Fuck you, you little whore.” The alcohol and rage destroyed my filter. “And fuck you, douchebag.”

  Danielle rushed back and grabbed me by the sh
oulders. “Hey, we’re better than that.”

  “Are you though?” the same guy said. “A slut like you? Come on.”

  Becky arrived and hauled me away before I lost it. “What the fuck was that all about?” she asked in the bathroom.

  “I have no idea,” I said, “they just started calling us sluts as we walked by.”

  “People are weird,” Danielle said, “let’s leave it at that and enjoy the rest of tonight. I’m not tanked yet, remember? So we still have a long night ahead of us.”

  I promised to let it go. On the way back to our table, the group harassed us again without a reason, trying to provoke us into some sort of confrontation. I gritted my teeth and walked on. We were heading for the door when I grabbed Becky’s half-finished margarita and turned back for the harassers.

  I could hear Becky behind me, “Maci!”

  I tossed the drink in the guy’s face and slammed the glass down on the table as the other four guys cried out, “Oh!”

  “Fuck you, morons,” I laughed. Becky yanked my arm, pulling me for the exit. A waitress was rushing over to us as we started speed-walking to catch the others. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I let out a laugh of sweet revenge, climbing into the elevator.

  “What just happened?” Bridgett asked. Becky and Danielle fed them the story on our way to CC Slaughters for some cheap drinks. I was all pumped up and ready to dance. As a group, we took over a large portion of the floor, but the music wasn’t what any of us wanted. “I want to dance!” Danielle yelled.

  “We are dancing,” I shouted back.

  “Dirty Nightlife is a few blocks down,” Nikki said, “that place gets really hot.”

  “Let’s finish these drinks and go,” Danielle said. We didn’t argue with her. It was her night, and no one really cared anyway, though a few of them wanted to go to Darcelle’s for a drag show. My head was swimming by the time I finished my drink at CCs. As maid of honor, it was my duty to see that Danielle paced herself and to make sure people didn’t force too many drinks into her hands. Sadly, I was unable to control myself, let alone her.

  Two random girls ended up buying Danielle another drink at CCs, so we stayed for a while longer before we gave up and went to Dirty Nightlife, which I had never heard of, but then again, I didn’t do the club scene, so that was no surprise. The club was packed, and cleavage was everywhere, including a few women wearing only bras. Stripper poles were scattered throughout the place, yet there were no actual strippers, only regular dancing partyers doing their own thing.

  Nikki ran over to a free pole with the rest of us in tow. A group of guys bought us a round of martinis and the night really took off from there. We all went wild: dancing, drinking, and laughing. Nikki kept climbing the pole and pointing at me, but I laughed it off, glancing at someone else while sipping on my drink.

  Tugging down her shirt so that her breasts were practically popping out of her tank top, she caught my eye again, and danced with her ass grinding against the pole, sliding down, then back up. She pointed at me again and drew her finger in toward her, signaling me to get closer.

  I didn’t know if she would ever stop, so I walked over to her. “Yeah?”

  “Dance with me.”

  I gave in. “Sure.” She placed a hand on my hip, scooting closer. I guess this was what Danielle had warned me about. She grinded her crotch against me, then spun around, bumping me with her ass. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but I clutched her hips and grinded back.

  She grinned with a trace of seduction. “Have you ever kissed a woman before?” she asked, leaning into my ear.

  “No,” I answered. I couldn’t see straight at that point. “But I’ve thought about it.”

  “How come you’ve never tried it?” She squeezed her breasts into mine and I felt a little turned on.

  “Don’t know.” I pulled back so I could see her better. “Never was in the situation to try it, I guess.”

  She turned around and danced down to the floor, then back up, running her hands up my legs. She spun back into me so that our eyes met. Her lips were wet with lip-gloss. Before I knew it, her mouth was on mine, her tongue exploring mine. I fell into the moment, rolling my tongue against hers.

  “What the hell?” Danielle broke us apart. “Maci, what are you doing?”

  “Kiss—kissing a girl.” I backed up. “And—and guess what—I liked it, Danielle. Just like the song.” I laughed at myself.

  “Then there’s no reason to stop,” Nikki said.

  Danielle put a finger up to her face. “Not this one, Nikki. I told you that earlier.” She looked livid with her friend.

  “You said not to sleep with her.” Nikki eyed Danielle, just as pissed off for the interruption. “You never said anything about making out.”

  “You told her not to sleep with me?” I asked Danielle, confused.

  “You know what? Keep her to yourself. I’m out of here.”

  “Good. It was a mistake you were ever invited anyway,” Danielle shouted as Nikki left. She grabbed my arm. “I can’t believe you, Maci. I told you to watch out for her.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Danielle. If I want to kiss a woman I—I can.”

  “Maybe you should take a break for a while,” she said.

  “That’s a good idea.” I grabbed my stomach. “I don’t feel so great.” I sat down at the table we had claimed earlier in the night.

  Bridgett sat down next to me. “Did you—did you just kiss a girl?”

  I nodded, my drunken vision seeing a few of her. “Yeah.”

  “How was it?”

  “A little arousing.”

  She spat whatever she was drinking. “God, I hope I remember this in the morning.” We sat there laughing, and I slowly, drunkenly drifted off into a hazy sleep.

  23

  I DO

  The next morning I had the worst headache of my life. I snapped awake on the floor in the hotel room we’d booked for the bachelorette party. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there and was pretty sure I had blacked out at the dance club. The hangover lasted all day, and I had thrown up more than once. I remembered little, but I did recall the one big event, especially when Bridgett brought it up again, laughing with her whole body.

  I went the entire week without telling Vince about the kiss, worried about his reaction. Sure, a lot of men say they think it would be hot, but when it came down to it, it was a guessing game. Guilt ate at me.

  Saturday morning came and I swore I had more jitters than Danielle, even though it was her wedding day. Everyone from the bachelorette party would be there except Nikki, including big-mouth Bridgett, who couldn’t keep a secret. On a positive note, she was keeping her distance from Vince ever since the theft ordeal, so the likelihood that she’d spill the beans was miniscule. I worried about all the others, though. People would be getting drunk, which meant their tongues would be getting loose, like mine had. Luckily, Vince had to work late Friday night and missed the rehearsal dinner, where I was asked several times if I was switching teams. All the jokes bounced off me for the first hour before I grew tired of them, and snapped at Becky.

  Danielle had packed the schedule for the day full of fun preparatory appointments and tasks. We started the day off right with a delectable breakfast with strong mimosas, then we got our nails and hair done, did our own makeup, and dressed at the venue. The Hostess House, a beautiful, elegant choice for Danielle’s smaller wedding, had a chapel and reception room, and a gazebo outside, where the two lovebirds were to unveil in front of each other prior to pictures.

  I almost cried twice while helping Danielle dress. She was so stunning in her gown, and all the emotion was getting to me, realizing that she was about to enter into a new stage in her life. “Are you ready?” I asked after we finished adjusting her wedding gown. It fit perfectly, the pure white fabric falling in a short train, with the surplice neckline showing off a great deal of cleavage.

  She nodded, happy tears running down her
cheeks. She clasped my hands. “I know things are about to change a lot between us when I move in with Ashley, but I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you. Even though we’re not related by blood, you’re my sister, and that will never change.”

  My eyes watered again: I was on the verge of losing my composure. I had no words for her, my emotions too wild, so we embraced each other in silence. “I’m so happy for you,” I said at last. “Come on. Let’s go see your bride.” I took the yellow sash and tied it around her eyes, blindfolding her. I guided her outside to the gazebo where Ashley stood, also blindfolded, next to her maid of honor.

  “Ready?” I asked. They both said “yes” with tense excitement. I nodded at the other woman, and we both untied the blindfolds at the same time, drawing them back. Both brides gasped. Instead of white, Ashley wore a yellow strapless sweetheart dress. The ball gown featuring a dropped-waist bodice bejeweled with diamonds, and a trainless floor-length skirt, layered in six ruffled tiers.

  Tears dominated the next few minutes as they relished the moment. Then we took pictures and the time flew by. We retired to the prep room a half hour before the ceremony. Danielle grew nervous then, pacing.

  “You can do this, Danielle,” I said in a calm tone. “You want to do this.”

  “I’m just worried about my vows,” she said. “I’m worried I won’t be able to say them. I don’t want to be up there bawling the whole time.”

  I hugged her tightly. “When the time comes, so will your voice.” The simple words comforted her enough to where she stopped pacing. Her mother and father also gave her advice each in turn as we waited.

  The wedding coordinator, a slender Asian woman, peeked into the room before rushing in. She wanted no one outside the wedding party to see the brides before they walked down the aisle. She was very particular about it. “It’s time. Maci and Becky”—she waved us over—“come.” She began ordering us around as we filed into line outside the chapel.