hard. “I’m not sick,” I told myself. “I’m at the club. Everything is good. I got this.” Meanwhile, my stomach felt like a bag full of wiener-dog puppies were wrestling around in it.
“We’ve never officially met,” Texas said.
“I’m Roxy,” I said.
“And I’m—”
“Texas,” I said.
“We keep running into each other around town,” Texas said. He looked me in the eye. “And every time, something really unexpected happens.” I felt a jolt of electricity tingling through my body.
Suddenly the rockabilly supermodel I’d seen with Texas at Whole Foods appeared in front of us. “There you are!” she said. I looked up at her long mane of hair, styled in perfect waves. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She was clearly not pleased, but trying to rein in her annoyance. “Have you been hiding again?”
“Hide from you? Never,” Texas said with a smile.
It was then that the most horrifying thing you could imagine happened—I leaned forward and threw up. Vomit splashed everywhere, including onto the rockabilly girl’s nude, patent leather heels.
“Oh God!” the flawless beauty shrieked, jumping backward out of the spray.
I heaved again, so hard it made my stomach muscles cramp. Instead of recoiling, Texas took my elbow, but even the awareness of his hand on my skin didn’t stop the next heave and splash. Artemis sat down on the other side of me, patting my back. “I got you, honey,” she said. “I got you.”
All of a sudden it came to me like a bolt of truth lightning and I yelled: “Dirty Steve! You bastard,” and heaved again.
As soon as it seemed the heaving had subsided, Artemis said, “All clear for a minute?” I wiped my mouth, nodding.
Artemis helped me to my feet and hustled me out through the club. Another wave came over me but I fought it down until we were past Logan Ray Jones and on the sidewalk, where I threw up again ferociously.
“Get it, girl!” Logan yelled.
Immediately the wave of nausea was replaced by a great wave of euphoria that one only feels after a serious bout of puking has passed. “That’s it for now,” I said.
“Let’s get you home, then,” Artemis said.
Texas stepped outside, hurrying toward us. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I yelled, a little wildly.
“I got her,” Artemis said. “We’re parked right there.” She pointed toward her car.
“Parking angels. I’m not drunk, by the way,” I said with all the haughtiness I could muster. One of Texas’s eyebrows shot up. It might have been cute if I’d been in a better state.
“We’re fine,” Artemis insisted. She put her arm around me and we tottered off toward her car.
On the drive back to my house she had to pull over so I could lean out the car and puke until I was staring at a barf puddle. “Pull forward,” I said, and Artemis rolled the car forward just a little so I had a fresh patch of pavement to look at as I barfed some more.
When we pulled up in front of my house, she said, “I’m going in with you.”
Roscoe exploded into joyful yapping to see us. That’s one thing about having pets—you never walk into your house and feel unloved or ignored.
“What an adorable wiener dog!” Artemis exclaimed.
I staggered into my bedroom, kicking off my new boots and peeling off my dress. “I’m sorry to ruin our fun night,” I said, as I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed.
“You only had a couple drinks,” she said from the doorway. “Do you have a stomach bug?”
“I think my boss Dirty Steve gave me some expired sushi as revenge for blackmailing him.”
“That fucker,” Artemis said, plopping down on the edge of my bed.
“I should have known better. Free sushi is never a bargain.” That made her laugh. “What a dick,” I heard myself saying, and I wasn’t talking about Dirty Steve anymore. “I mean, that girl. She was about twenty-two and a giraffe.”
“Probably his sister,” Artemis said without missing a beat.
“Ha! In rom-coms it’s always, like, his niece, right? But that was nobody’s niece.” My own voice sounded ominous.
“Don’t worry about it. Drummers are always scrubs,” she said. She lay down on top of the covers, her head on the pillow next to mine, her eyes on the ceiling. It was nice and reminded me of all the times back in college when Yolanda, Rose, Kate, and Barclay and I had stayed up late talking. “They’re too afraid to take a front seat in life. Always hiding back there, looking sexy, unable to pay