8. Stupid Girl

CHAPTER 8

STUPID GIRL

P!NK

I grab a can of soda out of the fridge, surprised there's even one in there since I can't remember the last time I bought soda. Or took a trip to the damn grocery store. I crack it open, half expecting it to explode all over me, and take a long drink that makes my eyes water. The caffeine surging through me will hopefully calm the headache that's already scratching at my brain.

There's a knock at the door, but before I can even say come in , Dani is pushing through, tossing her bag on my couch and kicking off her shoes.

"Do you think Sam will murder me if I call in sick tomorrow? I want to get absolutely shit faced tonight and crash on your couch," she asks, walking through the apartment like she lives here. Checking the fridge, she finds it empty except for the barbecue sauce and an emergency pack of Reese's peanut butter cups. She knows better than to eat the candy, though. That's grounds for murder. Slamming the door shut, she grabs the can of soda from me, gulping half of it down without batting an eye. "Seriously, Lex? Dude, they clean dirty grills off with this shit. Also, how do you not even have chips in this house!"

"Yes, seriously. I've been…busy." I snatched the can back from her."Besides, it was part of my emergency food stash. Caffeine and chocolate. And peanut butter."

"Sweetie, you are aware grocery delivery is a thing, right? You don't even have to talk to them. They'll leave it right outside your door." She makes a face at the taste of the soda. "This stuff should only be used as a mixer. Where's the booze?"

"This was the only mixer I had. So now, we have to drink straight whiskey, which you complain about every time."

"It's not my fault you don't keep limes in your house! Or anything else, for that matter! Just split what's left." She tugs the freezer open and rolls her eyes. "You don't even have ice?"

My head falls back as I sigh, heading over to a small cabinet in the corner and grabbing the half-full bottle of Jameson. All I do here is sleep and shower. I don't keep food here because I pick it up on the way home or walk out and get something. Food would mean cooking, and I hate cooking for myself. "Wait, why are we pre-gaming when they have free booze?"

"Because I have a secret! It's about the guest list for tonight, and I'm not going to tell you about it. All I will say is you should drink up." She spins on her heel and heads out of the kitchen, skipping toward the bedroom. "Pour those, and I'll meet you in the living room; I need to pee."

Since she drank most of our mixer, and I'm already dreading what comes next, I pour us both doubles. She doesn't have to pee; she has to go through my closet. Which means she's about to find the two bags of awful clothes my mother dropped off last week. I take a drink from the bottle to prepare myself. I think about her guest list comment and realize Kennedy must be who she's talking about and take another long pull.

As I expected, Dani parades out of the bedroom a few minutes later. She's holding a dress from the bag my mother brought me in front of her. It's beyond hideous. There's a floral pattern reminiscent of a tablecloth, a neckline that goes to the eyeballs, long sleeves with puffy shoulders, and a pleather belt to tie it all together. My mother's taste is very religious martyr in spring .

"I do declare!" She says in the worst southern accent I've ever heard before fainting on the couch. "Oh, lawd, I've got the vapahs! Oh, Rhett! What shall I do? Mrs. Daisy, oh lawd! The scandal of it all! Why, they can surely see mah ankles in this abomination of a frock!"

I push her legs off the couch, and she cackles, hugging the dress to her chest. She laughs so hard that she falls off the couch and starts rolling around and kicking her feet.

"Shelby! Drink your damn juice!" she yells from the floor, and I roll my eyes until I laugh equally hard.

"Get the fuck up, asshole. Here, drink your own juice." I thrust her drink out to her, and she snags it. We both take a drink as she stands, holding the flowery, springtime corporate chic monstrosity in front of us. It's one of those things where the longer you stare at it, the more you find wrong with it. If I knew where my mother found this stuff, I might just have to burn it to the ground. However, there's a solid possibility one of the women from her church donated these, and by the looks of it, the previous owner likely died in the eighties.

"I take it good old mommy dearest went shopping at the old folks' home again?" She side-eyes me. "Alexis, your closet is the house of Satan! I'll save your soul through fashion by house Mormon! I wonder what she'd do if we poorly hid some whips and giant dildos in there for next time. Quick! To the internet!"

"She'd make a terrible Mormon and you're not ordering giant dildos. Mom dropped the clothes off the other day with a note while I was at work. Said something about these looking more…feminine… appropriate…other words," I hear my voice trail off as the rest of the letter plays back in my head. Dani knows those weren't the words my mother used. I skipped the ones that hurt. More attractive to a man of faith. Less like a whore of Babylon. Better fitted to my larger than necessary frame.

"Do you have scissors? God, my mother dresses better than this and she's like seventy-six." She doesn't wait for an answer, hopping up and running into the kitchen. She returns a few minutes later, victorious in her search, and flops down next to me. Once she takes a big swig from her glass, she looks me right in the eyes. "Fuck this dress and fuck her. Come on, we're doing this."

A shiver runs up my spine as I nod slowly. I can always tell my mother the dresses didn't fit or something when I throw them into a donation box somewhere. Dani picks the spot to make the first cut, then stops and holds the scissors out to me. I stare at them like I've never seen a pair of scissors before and couldn't touch them.

"I can't do this." I push the scissors away and I remind her, "This whole fashion thing is your gig. I'll fuck it up."

"This cut isn't about fashion, Lex. This cut is about freedom." She pushes the scissors into my hand. "We're going to turn this into a sexy, fun kimono and you're going to wear it tonight. You're going to drink, have fun, and meet the man of your dreams, all in rebellious defiance of that cunt who is absolutely unworthy of a daughter as badass and exceptional as you. In fact, I hope you get laid in this monstrosity. Repeatedly. Tonight!"

Sometimes it's easy to forget where Dani comes from. She's always happy and full of spice, even though her home life was never a walk in the park. Her father died when she was young, an accident at the factory he worked in. The payout from the company was a joke and it left her mother with six kids and no job. They made it work, though, and now, Dani, her sister, and her mother live in a cute little house near Silverlake. Or that's how she describes it. I've never even been to her house.

I hold the ugly fabric in one hand and the cold steel shears in the other. I shouldn't do this, and eventually I will end up paying for it when my mother finds out. But fuck if Dani isn't right. The sound of the blades slicing is beautiful, and the way they slide through the material is therapeutic.

"Ah! You did it! So proud of you. Now, take off your sweater so I can get this thing sized up. Hurry!" She grabs her bag, and of course, she has a sewing kit and supplies with her. She gets to work cutting and ripping as fabric flies around her. I can tell she's concentrating hard because her tongue is sticking out, so I hand her glass over now and then. She stops long enough to take another drink and get back to work.

I thumb through my phone for a few minutes, get bored with social media, and turn on the TV to some horror movie I've seen a dozen times or more. The whiskey is warm and Dani's humming is soothing. Soon enough, I'm closing my eyes and letting it lull me to sleep.

"WAKE UP!"

I bolt upright, "What? What happened?"

"Nothing, smile. I'm sending a pic to Sam. Stick out your tongue or something cute." She snaps the picture and sends it off as I stretch and rub my eyes. "I'm almost done. Go dig through your closet. White tank top, black shorts, and those cute ass boots you rarely wear. Oh, and fix your makeup. Either go all in on the raccoon mask or don't. You can't half-ass it tonight."

"Okay, okay!" I trudge into my room and stare longingly at my bed. I can tell her I have a headache; it won't be a total lie since I do have one. It just isn't bad enough to bail yet. Deciding against the idea, I glance over my shoulder and watch her finishing her project. I throw on the clothes she told me to wear and fix my makeup in the mirror.

Dani slides up behind me, and I put on what was formerly a dress and is now a boho-style duster. She's cut slits in the arms and even added pockets. Fuck. I look damn good. Curves and all.She could probably sell this thing for a decent amount at a thrift store or clothing exchange.

"Your mother would hate this because of how fucking sexy you look in it. Does she even know about all these beautiful tattoos?" She arches an eyebrow at me in the mirror, and I shrug and shake my head. "She'd also hate James. So let's go piss her off."

"James? What about him?" I remember the conversation from earlier and gasp. "Oh fuck, he's coming tonight, isn't he? I can't dress like this!"

"Yes, you can. You can dress however you want, look amazing! So let him stick his big?—"

"Dani, I don't think that whole hook-up plan is a good idea. We're supposed to work together. Work togeth—wait, how do you know he has a?—"

"I don't, it's a guess. Are you kidding? By the end of the night, I'm hoping he tears your clothes off, and this duster ends up in a pool at the foot of a sleazy motel bed."

I don't have time to change my mind or my clothes as she grabs my hand and drags me out of the apartment, leaving the shredded remnants of the dress on the floor for me to clean up later.

The bar is only a few blocks from my apartment and it's still daylight out, so the walk is a kind of refreshing. I can't stop myself from looking around as we walk and pulling the dress closed every time I notice someone. It hides some of the skin I'm showing, except now that it's a duster, so it just keeps fluttering open with every step. I don't mind wearing revealing clothes, but not around guys I'm supposed to be working with. I shouldn't have let myself get so carried away with Dani.

I don't get this nervous going out, especially to a bar with Dani by my side. If I'm honest with myself, it's not the clothes; that's just what my brain has decided to focus on. What I'm really worried about is spending the next few weeks working my ass off with James in tow. Traveling with him, staying in hotels, working weird hours. I barely even know him. I'd sure as hell like to know him, though. Nothing long-term, but it's possible Dani's right. Temporary co-workers with benefits could do me some good.

"Why are you freaking the fuck out on me, Lex?" Dani breaks me out of my private headspace.

"What if he thinks I'm weird?"

"You are weird, Lex. It's why we love you." She pinches my cheek and pops her gum. "Besides, the worst thing that happens is you both get to work out your sexual frustrations with each other!"

"I have to work with him over the next few weeks. How about we stick to that? Just, you know, work. No hooking up or fucking or whatever."

"Yeah, but imagine how much fucking you're going to do if you hit it off tonight! I mean, even if you don't hit it off, you can still bang."

"Working! Not fucking!"

She stops and stands in front of me with her hands on her hips while I sigh. It's honestly comical and I should be laughing. I'm a good six inches taller than Dani, even in her heeled boots. So while she's trying to be serious with her arms folded and giving me one of her looks, it ends up looking like a kid is angry with me.

"Where's Lexi? My Lexi? Not that shy, self-conscious girl you become around your mom." She digs through her purse until she finds her cigarette case, pulling out a joint and handing it to me. "I didn't invite Alexis out, even if you are wearing that fucking dress she bought. I invited Lexi, my ride-or-die. The bitch who gets drunk with me and dances on the tables before turning the guys down. The chick that chants at pride parades and takes exactly no shit from anyone? Now, let's smoke this and go be the badass bitches we are!"

"You're right. You're fucking right." I light the joint and take a slow, deep inhale. Feeling the haze settle in my mind, I let my whole body shake off the stress and worries. When I open my eyes again, I grin at her. "Let's go get drunk, dance, and maybe even screw. If that doesn't happen, we can end the night getting even higher and watching horror movies at my place. I'll even make out with you on the couch."

"That's my girl!"