it were, except that my whole face puckers around the lime juice and something else that tastes like licking the inside of a cedar closet.
Natalie catches my wrist and brings my glass back to vertical. My eyes are watering, and I brush the back of my other hand over my cheeks.
“Whoa there, hot shot. If you puke up tequila you’ll never drink it again, and a life without tequila is a life without sunshine.”
“You should write fortune cookies,” I say with a grimace, then, “Fill me up again,” because my insides are already warm and swimmy, and it’s the best I’ve felt in days. It makes me feel a little empathy for my mom. If someone’s going to cut your heart out, maybe the least you should do for yourself is dull the pain.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Katherine
Two hours later and I have a much better appreciation for the expression “shit-faced.”
Natalie, Rachel, and I have been laughing hysterically as we’ve taken turns telling our greatest accomplishments. I chose the engagement party I planned and produced for the Alpha Phi sorority president. Natalie picked two years ago when she won Aerosmith tickets over the radio. Rachel said hers was when she was twelve and won first prize at the county fair for her papier-mâché version of Michelangelo’s David.
“I had to make a Speedo for him because the fair director said it was a family event, so no penises.”
Now Natalie and Rachel are dissolving into tears. My sides hurt from laughing, too, and I’m wondering—if I try to stand up, can I make it to the bathroom safely? Somewhere along the line, my warm-and-swimmy stomach has turned to green-and-twisted.
When Natalie and Rachel stop laughing, I notice—in only a fuzzy kind of way—that they’re both looking at me like it’s time to finally get down to business.
“Well, if she’s not going to volunteer information, I’m going to put it out there,” Rachel loud-whispers to Natalie.
“Put what out where?” I give up on the idea of the bathroom and lean back on my hands. I’m still sitting on the floor. Rachel is perched at the edge of the couch cushions. Natalie is between us, also on the floor, her back resting up against the edge of the couch. Her dangly earrings are still swinging back and forth from when she was laughing. I can’t stop watching them. Then the whole room is swinging, too.
“The rest of the afternoon is dedicated to OFB,” Rachel says, pulling her dreads through her hands, then tying them back with a band she pulls from her wrist.
“Operation Ferry Boy,” Natalie explains.
I groan and close my eyes to keep the room from spinning. “Please don’t call him that.”
“Or possibly TF…B…TTC, depending on how this conversation goes,” Natalie says.
“TF…?” I ask, opening one eye.
“Toss Ferry Boy To The Curb. At least, if that’s what you’ve got a mind to do. Why are you and Bennet fighting?”
“Who says we’re filing…um, I mean”—I lean forward and lift my margarita from the coffee table to my lips—“fighting?” I take another sip of margarita to hide the fact that my heart is sinking—sinking because I am suddenly aware of who’s not here.
I have no doubt that sneaky-peaky Alli has heard about our fight, too. She’s probably making her play for Bennet even as we speak. How will he respond to that, I wonder? Poor Bennet, caught in her snare.
Or maybe it’s not poor Bennet. I mean, I’d be interested in Alli if I were him. I’d be interested in her if I was any man on the island, for that matter. That isn’t insecurity talking. Or tequila. That’s fact.
“I heard from Bruce that the two of you had a fight,” Rachel adds oh-so-helpfully. “He got it from Mooshy Moran, who heard it from Doyle.”
“We’re not fighting,” I say, hoping that message gets back to Alli. “I haven’t even seen him this week.”
Natalie nods. “That’s because he’s been in Muskegon.”
“Muskegon?” The word hits like a punch to the gut. How is it that Natalie knows more about what’s going on in Bennet’s life than I do? “You mean Michigan?”
Natalie is still nodding. It’s like she can’t stop. “Mmm-hmm. They all have to take turns going to some kind of ferryboat licensure training requirement thingy. Martin Tremblay flew him there in his Cessna. They got back a few hours ago. I think Alli picked Bennet up at the hangar.”
Alli picked him up? How did that happen? Before me, Bennet didn’t have any friends on the island, save for maybe Doyle.