08 - December Dread by Jess Lourey

were Dudley Moore and Rhoda Morgenstern?”
    I squeezed one of the lime wedges balancing on the edge of the drink I’d just been handed. A sour squirt landed on my lip, and I licked it off. “Forgot about that part.”
    She shrugged. “It was still a fun night. So what have you been up to? Tell me everything. I heard you went off to live in the Cities.”
    Turns out, she’d never left town except for a handful of family vacations. She’d been married and divorced and had two kids. She’d replaced her dreams and goals with theirs. My living in Minneapolis appeared a grand adventure to her, even though most of it was spent skipping class, waiting tables, and drinking too much. I was halfway through telling my story and listening to hers when she bought me another drink, and ten minutes later, another. Then a fourth. By the time she punched out, I was putting the literal in tipsy and we were laughing more than talking.
    I wiped the happy tears from my eyes. She’d just reminded me of the time we tried out for the Barkettes, the high school dance squad, claiming we were doing it as a protest and not because we really wanted to join. We’d failed the tryouts miserably. “I don’t think it helped that we called them the Barfettes,” I said.
    “Probably not. And the football team was so cute that year. We probably could have gotten a date if we’d made the squad. You seeing anyone now?”
    I told her about Johnny, and just saying his name out loud made me flush with warmth. I couldn’t stop gushing about how kind, and smart, and funny, and good-looking he was. It made me miss him terribly to talk about him.
    “Is he good in bed?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
    “I don’t know. We haven’t slept together yet.”
    She couldn’t have looked more shocked if I had told her that he was my brother. I knew why, too. You see, I partied like it was 1999 all through high school, or at least after my dad died, but I’d graduated a virgin. I hadn’t wanted anyone to know that, however. It would have ruined my reputation. So, I talked big, and I put my hand in the back Wrangler pocket of my share of losers when the occasion called for it, but I kept my legs together. All that changed after I moved away from Paynesville, of course. But while I was in high school, except for some painfully unskilled and unproductive huffing and grinding, I had been chaste.
    “How come?” she asked. It was a logical question. One I had a really hard time coming up with an answer for right now, in my vodka-fogged mind. I knew that at one time, I’d had a good reason for not yet sleeping with Johnny, a really important one, but it was a slippery thing. Best to let it go, I decided. And once I make up my mind, I act.
    “Do you have a cell phone?”
    She laughed like I’d just asked her if she had a car. Then, she saw I was serious and apologized, handing over her phone. “I have plenty of minutes. Are you calling your mom?”
    “Nope, Johnny. Excuse me.” I stumbled to a far corner, realizing even as I did so that my words were slurred, perfectly reflecting my critical thinking abilities. I also felt ten feet tall, bullet proof, and as horny as a goat. It was time. What had I been waiting for? I loved Johnny, and I was pretty sure he loved me. We were consenting adults. He could hop a plane out of Texas and be in Paynesville in a matter of hours. We could get a hotel room. It’d be romantic. I’d tell him I loved him, and he’d be happy to hear it. We’d wake up in each other’s arms on crisp white sheets, our smiles blissful, bluebirds braiding my hair. Click . “Hi, this is Johnny. Please leave a message.”
    I blinked, one eye closing a little before the other. A message? Well, I suppose I could. “Johnny, this is Mira.” I dropped my voice so it was breathy, husky. “Guess what I’m wearing?” I tried to concentrate on my body from the neck down. Blue jeans and a T-shirt, only I saw four legs where there should