Sin City Baby

“I think I’m going to stay here. I mean, I took the bar exam here, and my family’s here. I don’t see myself going back to the city.”

“You were all about that city life in high school,” Lizzie said. “Not what it’s cracked up to be?”

“More along the lines of I’ve got too many memories there with Michael, and I’m not sure if I could heal going back to New York,” I said.

“Well, if you ever want to come visit, you know you’re always welcome to stay with me,” Whitney said.

“I’m gonna miss you, and the same applies. Once I can get on my knees and beg my landlord for my apartment back, you’ll have a place to crash, too,” I said.

“Or you could get on your knees and—”

“Lizzie. Seriously?” Whitney asked. “The last thing Katie needs to be doing right now is getting on her knees for any man. If anything, they need to drop to their knees and show her why they deserve to stay.”

“Oh, shit! Some freak action goin’ on over here. Who knew little Whit-Whit liked her some oral?” Lizzie asked.

“Or I could simply take the time to heal and move on before jumping into anything else. You know, what regular people do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I saw you getting close to those two brothers this morning,” Whitney said.

“Caleb and Dylan? Hardly. I’ve known them ever since I was a little girl. I had my childhood crushes but that was years ago. We all grew up,” I said.

“Yep. They were there through everythin’. Her daddy runnin’ out. High school. Her eighteenth birthday,” Lizzie said.

“Shut up,” I said.

“What happened on her eighteenth birthday?” Whitney asked.

“Her and Dylan sucked face, that’s what happened,” Lizzie said.

“Oh, was that the one in the navy blue bespoke suit?” Whitney asked.

“The fuck is a ‘bee-spoked’ suit?” Lizzie asked.

“A ‘bespoke suit’ is a suit that is made from scratch and tailored to the body of the person purchasing it,” I said. “And yes, Dylan’s the one in the navy suit.”

“You know what I think of that? I think gettin’ over someone requires you gettin’ under someone else,” Lizzie said.

“You would think that,” I said. “And at any rate, they are my brother’s friends as well as mine. Hunter would have my head on a platter if I stepped anywhere near them in that manner.”

“You know as well as I do that them country boys like ruinin’ the innocent girl-next-door. I’d take advantage of it. I bet Michael couldn’t fuck you like Dylan or Caleb could,” Lizzie said.

“I don’t want ‘Michael’ and ‘fuck’ to ever be in the same sentence ever again,” I said.

“What about, ‘Michael is the fucking pits’?” Whitney asked.

“Or, ‘Michael can fucking suck a dick’?” Lizzie asked.

“Or, ‘Michael can drive off a fucking cliff and die in a fucking pit of flames’?” Whitney asked.

“Okay, okay. I get it. You guys hate him. I’m not marrying him so we can get off it, right?” I asked.

“Just makin’ sure all them phrases was good,” Lizzie said.

We laughed as the hot water around us relaxed our bodies. I sank down to my chin, allowing the wine we had shared earlier to permeate throughout my body. I still missed my beer, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to drink it as of yet. It had tasted so good going down that afternoon that I was afraid I would lose myself again.

Lose myself to the drinking I once did in college, and unleash a side of me I’ve locked up for so many years.

Suddenly, a door opened. I turned my head toward the sound and saw the brothers walking out of the changing room. They were clad in bathing suits, their muscles chiseled and flexing as they walked toward the hot tub. They all looked at me as they made their way for us, their legs flexing with strength and their arms pulsing with protruding veins.