by Portia Moore
Angie’s back! But this time she has a guy with her.
I stand up quickly, a little too quickly because I sort of stumble a little. I rush over and give her a really big hug. “Hi, Angie!” I’m so excited to see her. I pull back and smile widely. Instead of smiling back, she gives me a weird meanish look.
“Uh, hi,” she says, looking me up and down. “Are you having a good time?”
I nod enthusiastically. I had been so hesitant about this night, but now that I’ve loosened up a little, I’m having a fantastic time. “I am! I’m having a really good time,” I assure her. “I was so intimidated at first, but I’ve been talking to Hillary and this place doesn’t seem so bad anymore.”
Angie grins at me as she grabs my hand and leads me back to the couch. “Is that right? Have you only been drinking Amarettos?”
“Nope, I’ve been drinking some pink lemonade stuff that Hillary gave me.”
Angie turns her attention to Hillary. “How many glasses did she have?”
Hillary shrugs and innocently says, “I just wanted her to loosen up a little bit. I think she only had two or four.”
“It’s really, really good! You can’t taste the alcohol at all!” I say, and I remember that Angie brought a guy back with her. I peep over her shoulder to see him sitting on the couch. He sort of looks like Matt Damon. He has really white teeth and dark blond hair, and his smile is kind of nice, no not kind of nice—it’s brilliant. “Who are you?”
He grins at me as he reaches out his hand to shake mine. “I’m Steven. You’re Lauren, right?”
I nod as I shake his hand. “You look like Ben Affleck.”
Damn. That wasn’t right. I meant the other guy.
Angie pours a glass and forces it into my hand. “Lauren, why don’t you have some water?”
“You’ve been serving her the good stuff, haven’t you, Hillary?” Matt Damon asks.
Hillary hugs me as she defends herself. “Hey, I just wanted her to have a good time! It’s her birthday!”
I look over and notice that Angie doesn’t look that happy. What is her problem? I was finally having a good time!
Hillary gets up from the couch. “Come on, Lauren! Let’s leave grandma and grandpa here to be old and boring. Let’s dance!”
I’m not normally much of a dancer, but I’m having such a great time. Not to mention, who doesn’t love Beyonce? I get up and follow her, only stumbling over my stilts once. We stop to dance next to Trish and Tori, but somehow they didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. Hillary grabs my hips and we begin swaying to the music. I throw my hands up in the air. I can’t remember the last time that I felt so carefree. Angie’s right. This is the best birthday that I’ve ever had.
I have a concussion.
That’s the only reason my head hurts so bad and feels like it was crushed by a building. I slowly sit up in my bed, holding my head.
Wait a minute. This wasn’t my bed. I start to panic before memories of the night before slowly start to come back to me. I glance around the room, but I still don’t know where I am. This isn’t Angie’s or my room.
“Oh, God. What did I do?” I shriek. What if I left with some random guy and did something crazy?
“Don’t panic,” a voice says. Thank God it’s female. I look over to see Hillary going through a closet. “You’re just at my house, hun. Nothing crazy happened last night. Angela got so drunk that I couldn’t let you drive back to the burbs like that. Do you want coffee or a Red Bull?”
“Uhm, water. And if you have an aspirin, I wouldn’t mind one of those.”
“Okay,” she chirps. She has way more energy than any sane hungover person should have. She’s back in a couple of seconds with a glass of water and Tylenol.
“Aspirin on an empty stomach is a disaster waiting to happen. You really are a novice.” She laughs as she sits next to me on the bed.
“Thank you,” I groan and I throw the Tylenol down my throat and down the entire glass of water. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thirsty in my life.
“Hey, slow down. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place,” she teases me.
I scour my memories of the night before. “I don’t remember what happened last night.”
Hillary laughs. “You let loose. Real loose. You brought in year twenty-one the right way.”
“Good to know,” I groan as I massage my aching temples.
“You know, Lauren, I’ve decided that we’re going to be best friends.” I look at her, strangely amused, before she goes on. “I think we really balance each other out. You seem so reserved, logical, and maybe a little boring. I’m wild, you know, act now, think later. But together we’ll totally even each other out.”
Is she trying to compliment me?
“Yeah, you have to be kind of crazy since you’re offering for me to live with you without running a background check or something first,” I retort.
She giggles, unphased. “Exactly. That’s the kind of thing that I would never think of. It’ll make me lighter and you heavier, if that makes any sense.”
I try to fight the smile that’s spreading over my face. Hillary’s energy is completely infectious. She’s definitely fun, and somehow she knows how to get me to have fun as well.
She throws her arm over my shoulder. “See, like right now. I can tell that you’re doing a lot of thinking.”
“I know that we hung out last night and had fun, but are you sure about me living here?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she reassures me. “Besides, Angela vouched for you. I know that she wouldn’t suggest someone who was a lazy, dirty psychopath to be my roommate. No matter how much I get on her nerves sometimes.”
“Well, since I’m here. Can I look around the place?”
She starts to laugh. “I gave you a tour last night. You said that you loved the place, but I guess that I could give you a sober tour. You know, one that you could remember.”
Hillary stands up from the bed and grabs my hand, pulling me up with her. She turns me around to look at the room fully. It was nice. It was pretty and airy. Large enough to have a king-size bed and dresser at least.
“This would be your room.” Then just like that, she’s pulling me out of the room to see the rest of the house. The whole place had light pouring throughout it. My dorm room didn’t have a window so it was something I appreciated. She led me through the rest of the apartment. There were a lot of windows that allowed sunlight to spill into the place. The kitchen was slightly small, but I’m not much of a cook anyways. This apartment is a whole other world from my shabby dorm room.
I turn to look at her. “If I get the job, I would love to be your roommate.”
She grins at me and bubbly insists, “Roommate and best friend?”
Angie groans from underneath the covers on the couch. “Ugh, what am I? Chopped liver?”
Hillary skips over to the couch and jumps on top of Angie, giving her a tight hug. “How could you be my best friend when you’re already my sister?” Hillary peeps over at me.
“Come get some of this, Lauren.”
“Are you sure that you want all of this?” Angie teases sarcastically.
All I could do for a moment was stand there and grin at the two of them. Growing up, I had friends. People I hung out with because we had classes together. I shared things that I thought were important. I had thought that they were true friends. But that’s the thing about growing up. When college happens, everything changes. You’re suddenly shoved into a completely new world, meeting so many new, different people every day. When you don’t see your old friends anymore, you grow apart. Or they turn out to be psychotic evil cunts. So I definitely had room for a new friend or two.
I slowly make my way over and joined them. Hilary automatically opens up her arms and wraps me into a bear hug. “You’re stuck with us now,” she says, laughing. Angie and I join in. When we settle back into silence Hillary asks, “So, when are we going to egg Daniel’s car?”
> Five
Rewriting the story…
Angie is staring at me intensely with her hands on both of my shoulders. “Don’t be nervous, L. Just know that you got what it takes. Be confident. Confidence is very sexy.” We’re standing outside of what I hope to be my future manager’s office. It’s time for my interview at The Vault and I’m so nervous. Angie’s coaching me like she has been for the past two days. She even got me dressed for the interview and shoved me into another little black dress. It’s not as short as the one that I had worn for my birthday, but it still doesn’t feel right for an interview. I have a lot of skin showing. Angie told me that I had to show off what I was going to bring to the company.
“I just wish that I had more experience to offer,” I whine. “I don’t even know the difference between vodka and tequila.”
“None of that matters! All he wants are pretty girls who can sell expensive bottles to anyone that they can.”
That doesn’t ease my mind. “What if he finds out that I’m not really twenty-one? Can’t he be shut down for me working here? I can’t have someone’s failed business on my conscience!”
“Would you stop it? You’re freaking yourself out and you’re starting to freak me out.” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look. Forget everything I said. Don’t try to be sexy or flirt. Just be nice and your normal clever self. How about that?”
I nod my head. “Nice. I can do that.”
“You can send Laura in now,” I hear a man shout from the other side of the door with a distinctive English accent.
My stomach drops. “Am I Laura?”
Angie pats me on the shoulder. “You’re whoever he wants you to be.”
It’s time.
Angie turns me around and gives me a little push towards the door.
“You got this,” she whispers after me.
I open the office door and walk inside. The room is large and sleek. There’s a humongous window behind the desk. Bottles of unopened liquor line the desk with a half-eaten Big Mac sitting in the middle. I look around for Ryan, but no one’s in here.
“Over here, luv,” the deep English accent murmurs. I spin around to see who I assume is Ryan. And to my surprise, Trish is practically latched on to him like a second skin. He instantly waves her off when he notices me. “Out baby, I have some business to attend to.” She rolls her eyes and walks to the door, without a glance of acknowledgement of me.
“Later, baby.” His voice is a lot bigger than his body. He’s a slender man with bright blond hair, wearing a black button-up with matching slacks that had a tighter fit. He’s young, maybe at the most in his mid-thirties. This was not who I pictured owning this club at all. I was thinking more like Tony from The Sopranos.
He looks me up and down, and I notice a slight smile crease his face.
“I’m Ryan. This is my club. Why should you work here?”
Wow. That isn’t exactly what I expected him to say. His bluntness brought back all the nerves that I had tried to leave at the door. I don’t know if being nice is going to cut it. Angie’s approach will probably work a lot better.
I tilt my chin up, trying to look confident. “Because I will sell your most expensive liquor to as many men as I can get to buy it,” I say with false bravado, hoping he buys it. He stares at me for a moment without saying anything. Finally, a grin spreads across his face. “Finally someone who gets it! Why do you want to work here, other than the money you would make?”
I immediately draw a blank. I want to work here because of the money, so would he appreciate such bluntness from me? Probably not. There was no answer that really made sense in my mind other than that. “It seems like a lot of fun. It’ll give me more time to concentrate on school.”
He nods, but he’s starting to look bored again. I have to think of something else and quick. I suddenly blurt out, “And the men. I want to meet guys. I haven’t dated anyone in two years.”
I immediately regret the answer. It was completely stupid. Why did I say that? I can feel my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.
“Well, you’ll definitely do that here. Just don’t date any of your coworkers,” he says with a laugh. I nod. He’s talking as if I have the job. That’s a good sign, right? “Are you okay with working nights and weekends?” he asks.
“Of course, that’s not a problem.”
“Not that I’m saying you’ll get the chance to work weekends. It goes by sales and seniority, but a pretty girl like you should be able to make her way to the top fairly quickly.”
“Are you saying I have the job?” I ask him uncertainly. I hate to be so upfront, but something was telling me it was better to be that way in this situation.
“I don’t like the name ‘Laura,’” he says, rubbing his chin. “I’ve dated—or let’s be honest—shagged too many terrible women with the same name. Can we call you Ashley or Carmen? I like those.”
“Well, my name isn’t Laura. It’s Lauren,” I tell him as brightly as I can.
His eyes light up and he smiles. “I haven’t shagged a Lauren yet, so that works fine with me.”
I try to think of something to say to that, but I’m at a complete loss. I’ve never talked to a supervisor about their sex life before. No response sounded like the best response.
“Have you ever served liquor before?”
I bite my lip. “Not exactly…”
“Are you used to working around drunk wankers?”
“No, but I have good people skills. Drunk people are just like children.” I’d worked with kids my first two years of college by volunteering at an afterschool arts program. It’s not that much of a stretch, I hope.
“Well, you’re gonna come across a few that may cross the line. But our guys will take good care of you. If you’re ever uncomfortable, let them know. The girls you’ll be working with are a different story. They can be difficult at times. Hell, most times, but I’m assuming you know how that goes.”
I smile tightly. “I can imagine.”
“I’m not a den mother,” Ryan warns. “I don’t get involved with petty squabbles. You’ll have to hold your own.”
I nod again. “I can do that.”
He sits in silence, examining me again for a moment, “Alright, you got the job. Go downstairs and see Sandra. She’ll take care of the paperwork and all the boring stuff.”
I got the job! Is he for real? Oh my God, I did it!
“Thank you, Ryan!” I say, failing to hide my excitement.
“Thank me by making me a lot of money, luv,” he says with a broad smile before turning his attention back to his laptop.
I quickly exit the office with a huge smile on my face. I got the job! I still can’t believe it. Angie’s leaning on the wall across from the office door. When she sees me a wide smile breaks out on her face.
She squealed, “You got the job?”
“Yes!!!” I say ecstatically. This is a dream come true! Angie hugs me tightly. “It’s official. Things are turning around for you! You got the job, next is the D.”
“The D?” I ask her, confused.
Angie giggled and flashes me a mischievous smile. “I’ll let Hillary explain it later.”
I roll my eyes at her as we make our way downstairs to see Sandra.
Hillary is standing up, holding her drink high in the air. “To Lauren. For acing her interview so she can bring home the bacon and pay the rent. Congrats, roomie!” She leans down and gives me a dramatic kiss on the cheek before everyone toasts.
“It was more like barely passing,” I admit as I took a sip of my virgin Mai Tai. I had enough alcohol last night to last me three lifetimes.
“Don’t be so modest,” Angie chimes in. “If you’re going to work at The Vault you’re going to have to be more confident.”
I shrug. “I just want to make money and not step on anyone’s toes—”
“We’re not stepping on toes, we’re stepping on heads,” Angie interrupts, and Hillary high-fives her. I don’t want to step
on anyone’s head. I just want to make as much money as possible. With the least amount of drama.
“So, tell me, Lauren,” Hillary says sneakily. “Has it really been two years since you swallowed a sausage?”
My eyebrows shoot up to the top of my forehead at her question. Angie bursts out laughing, slightly choking on her drink. “Swallow a sausage. I’ve never heard that euphemism before!” she cackles.
“Are you trying to ask me when the last time that I…”
“Licked a popsicle, put a hotdog in your bun, let the genie rub your lamp,” Hillary supplied.
“Super classy, Hil,” Angie said sarcastically. But they are both looking at me, waiting for an answer. Maybe I should start drinking. “I know what you said the other day but you didn’t know me as well so sometimes those answers don’t count,” Hillary says whimsically.
“I haven’t even kissed someone since my senior year of high school.”
Hillary looks as shocked as she did on my birthday. “I thought you were drunk lying!”
“Nope, it was all true,” I say lightly.
“Okay, we have to fix this,” Hillary proclaims.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Is that really something that needs to be fixed?”
Hillary looks at me, deadly serious. “If you haven’t had sex in two years, we need to make sure that it still works.”
Angie burst out laughing again. Why do they love to embarrass me so much?
“Are we embarrassing you?” Hillary manages to ask through her laughter.
I dryly chuckle, covering my face with my hand. “A little bit.”
Angie signals the waiter for another drink as she assures me, “You’ll get used to her.”
“You don’t miss it at all?” Hillary asks, baffled.
“It only happened once. The actual act wasn’t mind blowing. But I guess you could say that I miss having someone, loving someone. Having even a small piece of what my parents had would be amazing.”
There’s pause in the conversation and it weighs heavy in the air. Things have shifted from light and playful to heavy.