cautiously planned a future with in my head before one was planned for us. I suddenly remember I have fresh laundry folded on the living room couch. Grabbing my cell phone, I tiptoe over to my favorite dress. It’s just warm enough outside for the paisley boho dress that makes me feel ten years younger. I call Tosha.
“Nat?” She’s clearly in a bar.
“Where are you? I’m coming to meet you for a drink.”
“Woo! Praise the Lord , Natalie Collins is busting out! I’m at The Monkey Bar, you snit, get your ass over here.”
Thank God I can walk there, I’ve got some drinking to do.
Half a block and a world away, I find Tosha smoking outside. Ditching her conservative professional wardrobe, she’s wearing an almost too-short sleeveless black dress with ridiculously high red pumps. I love her.
“And just how often do you and your sexy-ass girlfriend come drinking a thousand feet from my apartment?” I hug Liz—Tosha’s girlfriend—first. She’s wearing red skinny jeans and a black tank. They match but I don’t mention it. They’d kill me.
“A few nights a week. You know that.” Tosha smacks my butt as we head inside to the glorious noise of anything but toddler screams and marriage cries.
Chapter 8
“So what brings you out on this fine night?” Liz hands me a margarita to get started.
She’s a hilarious contradiction to Tosha; Tosha is a funhouse of crazed dirty blonde curls and wicked green eyes, while Liz is polished with perfectly ironed mocha hair and almond-shaped eyes. They met during what became our senior year. Tosha’s a year younger than me, but was my roommate during my sophomore year. She met me just a few months before Ryker left and stayed by my side. She’s more than anyone could ever want in a best friend.
“Ugh,” I grumble, “end of the semester. Eric’s all bi-polar these days. God forbid I ask about his job prospects.” I slam my empty glass on the bar and motion the baby bartender for another.
“What’d he say when you told him you were coming over here?” Tosha raises her eyebrow behind her beer.
“He’s asleep, he has no idea I left.” I shrug.
Tosh and Liz freeze in place and stare at me bug-eyed before Tosha speaks again.
“She’s back!” Tosha exclaims, “My screw you roommate is back!” We’ve referred to each other as “roommates” ever since we were.
“Sort of. He was just such a jerk today to one of his students. I wanted to punch him in the throat. I’ve never seen him behave that way. He’s buckling for sure.” I lick the salt from around my glass.
Liz rests her hand on my barstool. “What’d he do?”
I sigh. “I was at his office for the first time in forever to actually apologize—imagine that—for pissing him off this morning. This girl walks in, pale and crying, and he barely acknowledges her.” In the middle of my story another one of Tosha’s friends joins our group. “So the girl says her Marine boyfriend is leaving today and—”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Tosha sets her beer down.
I shake my head. “And Eric tells her that while he’s proud of her boyfriend, she still has responsibilities. ” Tosha rolls her eyes while Liz scrunches up her face. “Anyway, I told him he was being an ass, walked her to her car, and told her to kiss the living piss out of him before he leaves. Then,” I finish my second margarita a little too quickly, “I broke a wine glass, took a bath, and came here.”
Tosha doesn’t break her gaze from me, but snaps her fingers over her head and points to me. A few seconds later, I’m holding another margarita.
“Jo, you remember Natalie, right?” Tosha looks over her shoulder to her colleague that entered in the middle of my story. She teaches sociology classes at both Smith and Mount Holyoke. Her pixie cut is dyed bleach blonde and spiked. Deep blue eyes soften her features.
“Of course, mile-long sinister black hair and even darker eyes? Who’d forget a
“Nat?” She’s clearly in a bar.
“Where are you? I’m coming to meet you for a drink.”
“Woo! Praise the Lord , Natalie Collins is busting out! I’m at The Monkey Bar, you snit, get your ass over here.”
Thank God I can walk there, I’ve got some drinking to do.
Half a block and a world away, I find Tosha smoking outside. Ditching her conservative professional wardrobe, she’s wearing an almost too-short sleeveless black dress with ridiculously high red pumps. I love her.
“And just how often do you and your sexy-ass girlfriend come drinking a thousand feet from my apartment?” I hug Liz—Tosha’s girlfriend—first. She’s wearing red skinny jeans and a black tank. They match but I don’t mention it. They’d kill me.
“A few nights a week. You know that.” Tosha smacks my butt as we head inside to the glorious noise of anything but toddler screams and marriage cries.
Chapter 8
“So what brings you out on this fine night?” Liz hands me a margarita to get started.
She’s a hilarious contradiction to Tosha; Tosha is a funhouse of crazed dirty blonde curls and wicked green eyes, while Liz is polished with perfectly ironed mocha hair and almond-shaped eyes. They met during what became our senior year. Tosha’s a year younger than me, but was my roommate during my sophomore year. She met me just a few months before Ryker left and stayed by my side. She’s more than anyone could ever want in a best friend.
“Ugh,” I grumble, “end of the semester. Eric’s all bi-polar these days. God forbid I ask about his job prospects.” I slam my empty glass on the bar and motion the baby bartender for another.
“What’d he say when you told him you were coming over here?” Tosha raises her eyebrow behind her beer.
“He’s asleep, he has no idea I left.” I shrug.
Tosh and Liz freeze in place and stare at me bug-eyed before Tosha speaks again.
“She’s back!” Tosha exclaims, “My screw you roommate is back!” We’ve referred to each other as “roommates” ever since we were.
“Sort of. He was just such a jerk today to one of his students. I wanted to punch him in the throat. I’ve never seen him behave that way. He’s buckling for sure.” I lick the salt from around my glass.
Liz rests her hand on my barstool. “What’d he do?”
I sigh. “I was at his office for the first time in forever to actually apologize—imagine that—for pissing him off this morning. This girl walks in, pale and crying, and he barely acknowledges her.” In the middle of my story another one of Tosha’s friends joins our group. “So the girl says her Marine boyfriend is leaving today and—”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Tosha sets her beer down.
I shake my head. “And Eric tells her that while he’s proud of her boyfriend, she still has responsibilities. ” Tosha rolls her eyes while Liz scrunches up her face. “Anyway, I told him he was being an ass, walked her to her car, and told her to kiss the living piss out of him before he leaves. Then,” I finish my second margarita a little too quickly, “I broke a wine glass, took a bath, and came here.”
Tosha doesn’t break her gaze from me, but snaps her fingers over her head and points to me. A few seconds later, I’m holding another margarita.
“Jo, you remember Natalie, right?” Tosha looks over her shoulder to her colleague that entered in the middle of my story. She teaches sociology classes at both Smith and Mount Holyoke. Her pixie cut is dyed bleach blonde and spiked. Deep blue eyes soften her features.
“Of course, mile-long sinister black hair and even darker eyes? Who’d forget a
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