Oh. So it’s just my lucky day, then. I shoot him my sweetest smile, hoping I can push for a little bit more. “My sister and her fiancé are with me. Can they come, too?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”
Yay! “Thank you so much! You’re awesome.”
He gives me a smirk, like he knows some secret of the universe that I’m not privy to. “My pleasure.”
I gesture at Curie and Joe to come quick, before the bouncer changes his mind. They keep lagging because she can’t decide if she wants to have their towels monogrammed and is going over options with him. Apparently, that’s the thing according to some bridal magazines. And Joe is too in love to resist the onslaught.
“Wait, why are we going over there? What did I miss?” she says.
“I got lucky. The VIP entrance, baby!”
“Wow, how did you get that?” Joe asks.
“Dunno. But I’m not complaining. Let’s go.”
Mr. Bear Arms leads us to the front of the line and holds up a
velvet barrier rope with a big smile, which makes him look like a shark before dinnertime. But I’m too excited to care. We’re in!
We walk through the door and touch down on another planet. The music is like a living thing, pulsing in my veins. I immediately feel drunk on the dynamic energy of the crowd. It tugs like a whirlpool of manic electricity, more alluring than a siren’s song. No wonder Curie loves this place.
She steers us toward a bar. “I’m going to start a tab,” she says. “My treat. You deserve this. We are celebrating.”
She gets three shots of tequila, and we all clink glasses and knock them back.
A fireball seems to ignite in my chest as the liquor goes down. It’s been a while since I drank like this. “Hell yeah.” I pump my fist. “I’m totally vindicated. That bastard. Trapping him with a baby, my ass.”
“No kidding. Who does he think he is? Can’t believe he tried that crap with you.”
“Totally. You should’ve seen the deadbeat’s face when I dumped him on the spot.”
Tom’s a freelance journalist with spotty paychecks. I’d never met a guy more eager to move in with me before. Or more shocked when I told him to pack his trash and get the hell out. I’d already told him my period isn’t really regular. He was either going to believe me or not, and I’m not keeping a guy who thinks I’m a liar.
“You know, he never apologized for going through my phone behind my back.” That’s how he discovered my period was late; I have an app that tracks it.
“Next time I see him, I’m running him over with a car,” Curie says.
I frown. “I thought you’re getting a Harley.”
“Cars hurt more. Don’t they? I’m pretty sure that’s science.”
“Yeah, they do.” You don’t need Newton to explain that. I wish I’d thought of running him over, though. It would’ve been soooo satisfying.
“Well, whatever. I’m flattening him.”
I grin. My twin is the best sister ever.
Joe gets a text, and he shows it to Curie. It’s probably about their wedding. They start giggling and talking, their heads pulled close together. They look so cute. They’ve been together since high school—one of those meant-to-be couples. And even though my love life is about as attractive as the bottom of a sewer, I’m thrilled that hers is soaring above the clouds. She deserves it.
So I let them do what engaged couples do when they’re not debating china patterns and monogrammed towels. I go to the dance floor so I can move to the music.
All day long the Hallelujah chorus has been going off in my head. Today’s just that kind of a day. I even danced to that outside the club while I was waiting.
Hallelujah, my life is awesome.
My period just ended. And I’m free!