Figuring Tabby would be a good ally, I looked up at her and waited for her to tell them to shut up, but she smiled at me and waited for me to reply.
“What? N-n-no!” I spluttered. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Using the ‘ding-dong’ hand to rest her chin on, Jacinda smiled widely at me. “So why are you blushing, then?”
“It’s the alcohol,” I snapped, lying out of my ass.
“Have you worn that new bikini next to the pool yet?” Sayla jumped in. “It made your boobs and ass look awesome.”
Jacinda nodded her head rapidly, then shot a hand out onto the couch to steady herself. “What about jumping on the trampoline in the top that sports company sent you last week? The one with the mesh panel over your cleavage.”
Because we were all different body shapes, we got sent different things to try and review. I had the biggest ass and tits out of all of us, and for some insane reason, companies made a point of sending stuff that showed them off.
I was a t-shirt or tank with an underwired bra kind of girl—and not the type who worked out. I’m not ashamed of that fact either.
I swam, I jumped on the trampoline, I was active with my job, and I was a single freaking parent. Why would I need to work out on top of that? When would I have the time and energy to work out on top of that?
Shooting them all a glare, I changed the subject back to the show we’d been watching. “Are we going to get back to it? I want to see if she did it or hired someone to do it. But if she was wise, she’d just have divorced him.”
The answer was clear: she did it. And the dumb cow thought she could hide it by putting the gun in the dryer while she went to answer questions. If you’re going to be a psycho, it’s probably best not to be a basic one.
“I’m embarrassed for her,” Sayla muttered. “She’s going to hell for killing someone, and it wasn’t even worth it because he’d let the insurance policy lapse, and she got caught, too.”
Two episodes and however many cocktails later, we were a mess.
“S’amazing how they catch the crime as it happens, eh?” Jacinda slurred. “You’d think they’d stop it, though. Why would you stand and let someone die for a television show?”
This was a good point.
“He’s not dead,” Tabby squealed, pointing excitedly at the screen. “His chest’s moving.”
Squinting at the body lying on the ground, I saw the chest move with a breath.
“She’s right. Oh God, I hope they didn’t cremate or bury him yet. Where’s my phone?” I patted around me looking for it and found my glass of the latest cocktail—Rum-Bar-Umbrella. We’d skipped the umbrellas because we couldn’t figure out how to open them, though.
Tabby managed to get to her feet after a struggle. “I’ll call Dave and get him to let ‘em know.”
“Alexa,” Sayla yelled. “Play us some drunk tunes.”
I snorted at the request, fully expecting to hear her say she didn’t understand the request like she did with every single one I’d given her tonight, drunk and sober. Instead, she started playing songs.
Really fucking good songs.
“Let’s get on the trampoline,” Jacinda breathed. “That’s the best idea ever.”
What had sold this house to me was the size of the backyard. I had space for the chickens we’d planned to get and for my dogs to roam, there was a pool the previous owners had built, a patio area for my chairs and the barbecue, and we had plenty of space for the big ass trampoline my parents had bought Cody at Christmas.
Of course, in our states we didn’t disagree with her about her idea. In all sober honesty, it was an awful idea. With the booze in our systems, though, we all jumped up and made our way unsteadily through the house and out into the yard.
Sayla had been leading the way, but before she put her foot on the grass, she asked, “Are all the chi-chi-chickaaaans locked up?”
Seeing as how I couldn’t look Alex Bell in the eye and how my vagina would forever have a scar to remind me of how much of a loser I was thanks to Bob Ross, yeah, they were locked up. I didn’t say all of that, though. I just gave them a look and nodded.
Patting me on the shoulder with pity, Tabby steered us toward the trampoline. “How much of your vagina did my father-in-law see?”
Clearing my throat, I was kind of grateful that I was starting to feel a bit more sober. If it was down to me walking, maybe the trampoline would be a good thing and spare me a killer hangover tomorrow? If it was the embarrassment of remembering the incident, I’d rather drink more and face the hangover.