Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,3
Ew.
Me: Hard pass on the strip club.
Raelynn: Such a good girl. Live a little.
Me: …
Raelynn: Fine. Dinner.
Raelynn: Party pooper.
Nova: Have a drink for me and be safe.
Just knowing I’d be able to relax and talk the last twenty-four hours out with Raelynn tonight helped ease some of the stress that weighed on me since I left my father’s last night.
I hated that Nova couldn’t be there. She completed our love triangle, as Raelynn called it. She was the calm devil’s advocate, always challenging us to think of the other person’s point of view, while Raelynn plotted the murder of whatever hurt her or her friends.
We’d all met in our Freshman year of college when we stood by and watched in horror as someone performed all four parts of Bohemian Rhapsody by themselves for a talent show that didn’t really exist. We’d caught each other’s eyes and started laughing in unison, and the rest was history. We’d held each other through each crazy, emotional struggle and adventure over the last four years.
I was ready to laugh and have a little too much wine and pretend duty didn’t pull me down with each step.
“Hey, bitch,” Raelynn called as soon as I stepped through the door of the glitzy restaurant.
The host waiting to greet us, merely raised a brow at her loud greeting. Not that Raelynn cared. It didn’t matter that we stood in one of the top restaurants filled with soft jazz and light conversations. She came barreling through like she had when we first met in college.
Loud and uncaring of what others thought, she was everything I never knew I needed in a friend. She took my proper slacks and had me switch them out for holey jeans. Needless to say, my father wasn’t her biggest fan, but tolerated the friendship.
“Hey, bitch,” I said much quieter once she was in my arms.
She smacked loud air kisses next to my cheek and declared, “Let the drinking commence.”
People stared as she walked by in her fitted nude dress, barely staying up with thin spaghetti straps. Once we reached the table, we both waited for the host to help us into our seats and hand us our napkins.
Raelynn grew up in the same kind of world I had. The one of etiquette schools and charity galas and an extra house in the Hamptons. The only difference was that she was born with her freedom. She had zero expectations of who she needed to be as long as she didn’t shame the family beyond repair.
“Can I get you ladies anything to drink other than water?”
“We’ll take a bottle of Dom Perignon.” She winked. “To start.”
“I may not be up for the night you have planned,” I said once the waiter walked away.
“You never are. Although you look like it in that jumper. All white looks good on you. And look at those shoulders. You pull off strapless well.”
“And it has pockets,” I joked.
“Even better.”
The waiter came back with our champagne, filling the slim glasses until the bubbles almost overflowed.
“You know…” Raelynn started, the devious glint in her eyes. I tried to brace myself for what would come next, but I could rarely prepare for whatever came out of her mouth. “You should just start boinking everyone you can. Be the ho you want to be.”
I almost choked on the drink I was taking.
“Oh, my god. I do not want to be a ho.”
She sighed with disappointment. “I know. You’re miss goody-goody. Missing the cardigan you love so much, but rocking the pearls still.”
I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to adamantly deny and list off all the ways I challenged the rules, but I couldn’t.
I was the rule follower of our group. Even Nova, the quietest of our tripod, broke more rules than I did.
“You know, you could still let loose even if you don’t go full ho.”
“I don’t know,” I said, fingering the pearls she’d mentioned. “You know I’m not great at one-night stands.”
“Yeah, you tried it once and ended up dating him for almost a year. And when that ended, you slapped your chastity belt on and threw away the key.”
“Oh, my god. Keep your voice down,” I said, glaring but still smiling.
She topped of her champagne and leaned back in her seat, looking around the restaurant.
“What about him?” she suggested, nodding her head to the back corner. “The one in the blue suit and no tie. Talking to the man in tweed. Who wears tweed in summer? Ew.”