“Lily!” Amy screamed, hugging me like she hadn’t seen me earlier that morning. She had a bottle of champagne in her left hand. “Look what Grandma gave me for tonight!” She spun around, taking in all of the decorations in the hotel room. “Oh my God, you guys! I’m going to cry! I love it!” She ran over to the penis piñata. “Quick, someone take my picture!” She opened her mouth very wide next to it, while three girls snapped pictures of her. I tried not to roll my eyes.
Once she had selected her favorite of the pictures, sent it to herself, and uploaded it to both her Instagram and Snapchat stories, she declared it was time for a drink. I peeked at my watch and saw it was only eight thirty. I was in for a long night.
“Does anyone have a corkscrew?” she asked, holding up the bottle of champagne and pulling the foil off the top.
“I do!” Ashlee pulled one out of her monogrammed “Maid of Honor” bag. “A maid of honor is always prepared.” Ashlee grabbed the champagne bottle and opened her corkscrew as the girls grabbed glasses and chattered excitedly.
“Whoa!” I rushed to Ashlee’s side. “You don’t open champagne with a corkscrew.”
“You don’t?”
I sighed again and looked around the room, then took the bottle from Ashlee, told the girls to have their glasses ready, and expertly opened it, wondering what would have happened had there not been a responsible adult there. I poured a few drops in all of the plastic “bachelorette” cups that were shoved toward me.
“To Amy,” Ashlee declared. “The future Mrs. Gilchrist.”
“To Amy,” everyone echoed.
“Now let’s get drunk!” Amy yelled, and the ensuing shrieks made me worry we were going to have a hotel noise complaint on our hands very soon.
By the time we left for the first bar, I had a splitting headache and had already begun to debate whether Excedrin was a better choice than drinking. But I figured it would be less intense once we were out of that hotel room. Besides, we were going to a bar in Adams Morgan that I used to love hanging out at. Granted, that was when I was Amy’s age, but it would be fun to go back to one of my old haunts, right?
No.
They say you can’t go home again. Well, they lie. You can go home. Going home is fine. Your mom may nag you about being single, but at least she’ll cook for you and feign concern while bemoaning your failure to produce grandchildren. You can totally go home.
What you cannot do, under any circumstances, is return to your favorite bar after not having gone for the last six years. Because the same people are still there. No, not the exact same people, because the exact same people are now your age and probably home with their spouses, babies, and dogs. But the same generic, midtwenties crowd is absolutely still there and suddenly you’re the oldest person in the room other than three creepy guys, one of the bouncers, and the dude who is clearly the owner. But unlike the other geriatrics in the room, I was wearing a belt made out of condoms.
And in the time it took for me to get myself a single drink, one of the girls had begun making out with someone in a corner, another was sobbing at a table, and Amy had some guy nibbling on her candy necklace. Not my circus, I told myself, taking a sip of my martini. Not my monkeys.
I made a face. This was a terrible martini. Of course, when I still drank here, I didn’t drink martinis.
Screw it, I thought, drinking the rest in one long gulp. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
I turned around and ordered two shots of Jägermeister. Never a good idea, but maybe being drunk was the way to survive this night. The bartender poured the shots and slid them to me. I took both over to Amy. Half of her candy necklace was missing as she giggled with the guy who had eaten it. Maybe Megan was right and she’s not going to make it to the aisle.
“Come on Ames, it’s shot time,” I said, elbowing past the candy fiend.
“You take shots?”
I rolled my eyes. “Since you were in the third grade. Come on. I’m doing one with you.”
She took the shot glass, clinked glasses with mine, and threw the drink down her throat. “Ugh! What is that?”
I looked at her like she was an alien. “Jäger.”
“People still drink that?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. That’s what we always did shots of.”
She pouted slightly. “I need some Fireball to get that taste out of my mouth!” As if by magic, two other bridesmaids appeared with shot glasses of the cinnamon liquor she had requested.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to avoid choking the bride. While it may be rude to look at your phone while you’re out, it’s still more polite than publicly killing your sister. It was a text from Alex. How goes it?
Sweet baby Jesus, I wrote back. Save me from these children who don’t even know what Jäger is.
So teach them! Isn’t that your job in this wedding?
I tried. Amy demanded a shot of Fireball immediately after. Did that even exist when we were young?
I think we drank Goldschlager to feel fancy when we wanted something with cinnamon in it back in our day.
I have never felt this old in my life.
Lol. You’re what? 31?
32.
Ahh, I see, Alex replied. You’re ancient. With a granny emoji.
I laughed out loud, then jumped as someone sidled up next to me. “What’s so funny, bridesmaid?” the sidler asked. “Texting your boyfriend?”
I turned to size him up. Way too young for me, of course, but cute. And there was no harm in flirting a little. “No. No boyfriend. Just a friend who agrees it’s ridiculous to wear a condom belt when your sister gets married.”
He nodded at Amy’s veil. “That’s your sister?”
“Yup.”
“Nice. I’m Kevin.”
“Lily.”
“Can I buy you a drink, Lily?” I agreed and he ordered another terrible martini for me and a Bud Light for himself. The drinks came and he paid cash, then clinked his glass against mine. “Cheers.”
I scanned the room quickly. Crying girl was dancing with some guy, making-out girl was still making out, and Amy was laughing with a bunch of her friends, drinking their drinks through penis straws. Everything was under control. I could relax. “So Kevin,” I mused. “What do you do?”
“I’m an intern on Capitol Hill,” he said confidently. This was clearly a line that got him girls. “Still deciding if I want to go the lobbyist route or eventually run for office myself. What about you?”
“PR at the Foundation for Scientific Technology.”
“That’s cool. How long have you been there?”
I knew the truth about my age would shock him, but I did not give the tiniest of rat’s asses what this kid thought. “Ten years. I started straight out of college.”
“Ten years?” he repeated. “I can’t imagine doing anything for ten years.” He leaned in closer. “But that’s what I like about you older women. You know what you want. I always learn a thing or two when I sleep with someone so much older.”
I reeled like he had slapped me. “Have fun with that,” I said and started to walk away.
“Baby, don’t go,” he said, grabbing my arm.
I turned around and got right in his face. “Fine, you want to learn something from an older woman? First lesson: don’t call a woman old. Second lesson: don’t assume you’re sleeping with anyone. And third lesson: don’t ever touch me.” His eyes widened and he dropped my arm. I stormed off, leaving my drink on the bar, and only realized as I got to the doorway how much more effective it would have been if I had thrown it in his face. You don’t get enough opportunities to do that in real life, so you should always take them when they come.
I went outside to where the smokers had been banished and sincerely debated just going home. Yes, it would be rude because Amy was my sister, but honestly, she didn’t actually care if I was there. As the semi-responsible adult, however, I needed to make sure she made it home okay. And to survive until the end of the night,
I needed a buddy.
So I called Alex.
He answered on the third ring. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you home?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you mind coming out to Adams Morgan? I need reinforcements.”
Alex laughed. “Sure. Let me just change and get an Uber. Be there in like half an hour?”
“I owe you. Big time.”
He laughed again. “You can pay me in jumbo slice and leftover cake.”
“Deal.”
I had a beer waiting for him when he got there and greeted him with it as soon as he walked in. He looked me over, but refrained from commenting on my newly blonde hair, probably because I had been complaining about it nonstop in texts. “Nice belt.”
I looked down. I had forgotten I still had the condom belt on. I yanked it off and dropped it in the trash.
“Now that’s just a waste. You could hand them out to all of the people who are about to make terrible decisions tonight.”
“The maid of honor made them by hooking the packages together with safety pins.”
Alex shook his head. “Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I’m guessing.”
“She’s not even a knife. She might be a spoon.”
“I’m sure she’s a very sharp spoon.” He looked around. “I haven’t been here since before I was married.”
“You weren’t allowed out when you were married?”
“If I was a good boy, I could go to the movies.” He rolled his eyes at me. “You don’t still come to places like this, do you?”
“God no.”
A bar-top table opened up and we looked at each other, then made our way over. The two seats were pulled next to each other, providing a clear view of the rest of the bar. “We’re officially the oldest people here,” Alex said.
“Except that guy, who I think owns it.”
“Nah, he’s a narc.”
I laughed. “Oh God, we’re old.”
He gestured with his beer. “So I’m guessing your sister is the one in the veil.”
“Yup. That’s Amy.”
“And the guy eating candy off her neck? Not your future brother-in-law?”
“Nope. Total stranger. Super classy.”
“Definitely runs in the family.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I missed you.” Between the shower, the bachelorette party, Caryn’s salon mess, and trying to keep my head above water at work, I hadn’t seen him in person since the night I got back from Mexico.
He leaned his head on mine. “I’m here now,” he said quietly. “This seems pretty under control.”
“Who’s this?” Amy was suddenly at our table, a drink in one hand, the other on her hip. “Lily, do you have a secret boyfriend?”
I picked my head up, annoyed, the moment gone. “No. This is Alex.”
“Amy,” she said, sticking out her hand. “I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
Alex laughed. “I’m crushed. I’ve heard all about you.”
“Don’t believe a word Lily tells you. I’m delightful.”
“Funny, she told me you’re delightful. I guess that’s wrong.”
“She did not.”
“Did.”
Amy turned to me. “I like him. Where have you been hiding him? He’s cute too.”
“We’re just friends, Amy.”
“So, friend, what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
Amy raised her eyebrows at me. “Single?”
“Divorced.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“And you’re not dating my sister because—?”
“I’m gay.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”
“He’s not gay. We’re just friends.”
Amy made a face at me. “I need another drink,” she said, downing the rest of hers and handing me the empty glass. “Will you get me one?”
I glared at her, but got up to comply. Amy slid comfortably into my seat. “So, Alex,” she began. I made my way to the bar.
The crowd had begun to pick up. I had forgotten that the under-thirties didn’t even leave their houses until eleven and anything before midnight was early. It took much longer to get the bartender’s attention, so I ordered another drink for myself and another beer for Alex as well while I was there.
By the time I made it back to the table, Alex was smiling at my sister. “You’re welcome,” she said when I handed her the drink.
“Thank you is the traditional response.”
“I’ll let Alex tell you,” she said sweetly, giving me a wet kiss on the cheek. “Back to my party! It was nice to meet you!”
“Tell me what?”
He laughed. “Your sister invited me to her wedding. As your date.”
I blinked rapidly. “She did what now?” He shrugged. “My mother is going to have a field day with this one.”
“I told her my answer depended entirely on you.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I asked you first.”
He shrugged again. “Could be good practice for Tim and Megan’s. And it will keep your older relatives from asking why you’re still single.”
He had a point. “Okay,” I said, feeling a twinge of something other than dread about my sister’s wedding for the first time since it was announced.
“It’s a date,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
When the evening devolved, it devolved quickly.
Ashlee came to find me, her hair disheveled and her face green. “Kayla, Taylor, and Fiona are all throwing up,” she said.
I shook my ponytail holder–covered wrist at Alex. “Duty calls.”
“Gross. I’ll sit this one out.”
“Keep your phone handy. I might need help getting Ubers.”
“Will do.”
I followed Ashlee and handed her a ponytail holder just in time for her to vomit into the sink. I did not miss this phase of young adulthood.
Madison seemed to be running the show in the bathroom, switching from stall to stall, holding girls’ hair. “Here,” I said, handing her three ponytail holders.
She looked at me gratefully, a slight sheen of sweat shining on her forehead, and then began tying up a girl’s hair for her.
Taylor flushed the toilet and exited the stall. “I feel better,” she announced. “I’m going to get another drink.”
“Nope,” I told her cheerfully, steering her toward the wall, away from the door. “You’re done.”
Ashlee seemed much more composed after she threw up, and I suspected her nausea was more from the smell of vomit in the bathroom than from too much alcohol.
I realized Amy was nowhere to be found. “Has anyone seen my sister?” Ashlee and Madison exchanged a look. “What?”
“She was talking to some guy,” Madison said, and Ashlee shot her a murderous look.
My shoulders dropped. Not now, Amy, I thought despairingly. I knew my little sister had inherited some of my self-sabotaging ways, but she was within three weeks of the altar.
“Where?” I asked.
“The booths by the dance floor,” Madison said.
“Round everyone up,” I told her. “We’re heading back to the hotel. I’ll get Amy.”
I made a beeline for the booths. But when I got there, I found Alex sitting next to Amy, the guy who had been eating candy off Amy’s necklace across from them.
“What are you doing, Alex?” Amy slurred.
“Being a cockblock,” he responded matter-of-factly. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
She punched him lightly on the arm. “You’re so silly. I’m not doing anything wrong. Am I, Luke?”
Luke looked none too pleased with Alex or his declared intentions.
“Come on, Ames, time to go,” I said, planting my hands on the table and leaning directly into her sightline.
“Last call.”
“No it’s not,” Luke said, checking his phone.
“It is for us,” I said firmly. Alex stood and offered Amy his hand.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Amy said again, petulantly, but she took Alex’s hand and stood.
I put an arm around her waist. “You only say that when you are, in fact, doing something wrong. Don’t forget, I’ve known you since you were born.”
Amy pouted, then burst into tears. “I really wasn’t though. I love Tyler. I wouldn’t mess that up.”
Alex gave me a look and tilted his head toward the door. I nodded.
Madison and Ashlee were crowded at the entrance with the rest of the girls. Two were sitting on the floor, looking like they might throw up again. “I’ll see if I can grab a couple of trash bags from the bar,” Alex said, surveying the situation. “How many Ubers do we need?”
I counted the girls. “Two regulars and an XL. I’ll order the XL, you do one, and Madison, can you do the third?”
She nodded and pulled out her phone.
“Let’s get everyone outside to wait. The fresh air will help.”
Amy was crying onto Ashlee’s shoulder, and I counted the girls again. We had left no man behind.
Madison took the first batch of girls in her Uber, Alex took the second, and I brought up the rear with the last of us. No one threw up in mine at least, and I helped the four drunk girls into the elevator and up to our suite.
Alex opened the door for us, his eyes wide. “This sounds like it would be every guy’s dream. But get me out of here, please.”
I laughed. “Can you hang out a few more minutes?”
“Now that you’re here, yes.”
“Thank you.”
I helped the drunkest two girls into their pajamas, gave everyone a bottle of water, and told them to brush their teeth.
“Thanks, Mom,” Amy said, her tears completely forgotten.
I rolled my eyes. “Wash your makeup off too. The last thing you need is your skin breaking out before the wedding.”
For the Love of Friends Page 23
