degrees.
I’d rather end up like Hollis than like her brother and sister, Lucien and Fiona.
Yes, I am going to work at the stadium once I’m unpacked and moved into my new house—but I’m doing it on my terms: under a contract that I negotiated, until I no longer love it.
You only have one life to live, and now that I’m an adult, I’m living it for myself.
Sure, the progression to independence has taken me a little longer than my cousin, who said no to everything the family offered straight out of high school—but I’m getting there.
Slowly but surely, I’m becoming my own person, freed from my gilded cage.
My eyes stray to Fiona and Hollis, both holding court at the wine tasting slash sex toy event her best friend Madison arranged, a white BRIDE sash hanging horizontally across her chest. She’s wearing a white long-sleeved jumpsuit, a white wig cut into a flirty, chin-length bob, and a tiara.
The rest of us? Pink.
Pink dresses, pink wigs, pink sashes.
It’s classic bridal party and bachelorette attire, half classy, half trashy—celebratory so it’s all oddly appropriate.
To quote the bride: Wear pink to make the boys wink.
I feel flirty and cute in my platform wedges and blush midi dress that’s far more appropriate for warmer weather. I feel sexy for the first time in who knows how long, but I highly doubt any boys will be winking my way tonight.
I give my light pink Barbie wig a fluff. Despite the playful getup, I still scream “good girl”.
In the center of the room is the hostess, an outgoing saleswoman named Ginger, with a vibrator in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. She’s loud, proud, and not the least bit embarrassed.
“…has stimulation for those of you who can’t climax from penetration, which is between ten and forty percent of you,” she’s saying, and my brows go up. “Fun fact, orgasms get better with age, so if any of you ladies are pushing forty, your best years are yet to come.” She laughs. “Come. Get it?”
Ginger passes the vibrator in her hand to Madison, who looks it over before passing it along to another bridesmaid. The blonde holds down the button and watches as it springs to life, buzzing in her hand and making everyone giggle.
“That model uses a USB to charge so it’s much quieter than the models that use batteries.”
So modern.
I’ve never actually held a vibrator—or had one—so would I know what to do with it if I ordered one tonight?
Ginger goes on, holding up yet another pink, gel, dick-shaped item. Similar yet smaller. “This hot number is called The Quickie, and everyone will receive one in their swag bag tonight, compliments of the maid of honor.”
The ladies in the room hoot and holler.
I blush.
Madison airily raises a hand, waving like the queen, adjusting her neon pink wig and invisible crown. “Do go on, you’re too, too kind. No, no—your praise isn’t necessary, the gratitude is enough. Please, hold your applause.” She’s bowing now, dramatically. “Go forth and orgasm—and remember me fondly.”
Someone in the back of the room catcalls and whistles between her teeth.
Ginger clears her throat. “Now I’ll introduce you to the couples’ toys.” She holds up a blue object shaped like a teardrop with a hole in the center. “This is our most current C ring, the Zing Ring…”
I zone out since I’m not part of a couple and therefore have no need for a couples’ toy, let alone a sex toy to begin with.
I don’t realize I’m standing on the outside looking in until Hollis’s best friend Madison wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me a nudge toward the bar.
“You seem quiet. Is everything okay?”
I blush, not wanting to be a spoilsport or a goody two shoes, or the Debbie Downer of the party. “Am I? Sorry, I’ve had a long day,” I explain, somewhat abashedly. “I have to move into my new place this weekend, along with everything else that’s going on with the wedding.”
Madison hugs me. “You must be beat! But I’m glad you came. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”
Yes, it has been. Back when I was in grad school out east, Madison and Hollis flew to visit me a few times and we went out and had ridiculously amazing dinners, shopped, and drank. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a party or the company of friends; it’s just that…I’m so damn tired.
“Do you need help? Moving in I mean?”
“No, I think I have it