"I've had kind of a full plate," Mae said. "I think it's pretty understandable that I forgot about it."
"Mae, people don't generally forget their own birthdays," Bea pointed out. "You're, like, 60 years too young to forget stuff like that."
Mae was sitting on the edge of Bea's bed while her best available friend sat at the head. Some sort of hardware catalogue was open in Mae's lap. It didn't look like a very exciting read. Mae remembered Casey used to have a bunch of gun catalogues that were really neat. Guns were cooler than screwdrivers.
The two had met up after Bea got off from work. It was a day or two after Mae and Germ's trip to the mines, and Mae had filled all of her friends in on what had happened. Mae had expected that to be the main topic of conversation, and it had been for a while.
However, after Mae had dinner with Bea and her dad, the topic of Mae's birthday plans eventually came up. It was only after a moment of silence that Mae realized she'd completely forgotten she was turning 21.
"It's no big deal," Mae said, but she was lying. How could she have forgotten her own birthday? Back in high school, she would have been counting down the days to her birthday and hassling her parents about parties. Had birthdays stopped being a big deal? When had that happened?
A 21st birthday was important, too. It was, like, the last big milestone. After you turned 21, you didn't have anything to look forward to except the age where you started getting senior discounts.
Not that Mae thought she was going to be much of a drinker. Probably. After all, the last time she had alcohol, it had turned out pretty disastrous. She'd puked right in front of Cole.
Where were the odds that Cole would be involved in two puke-related mishaps? That guy was just a magnet for puke misfortune.
"Did you not want to do anything this year?" Bea asked. "Or did you actually completely forget?
"I think we both know the answer to that, Beebee," Mae said. She sighed, falling back onto the bed. "My last birthday was such a nonthing, I guess I kind of forgot about this one."
Bea raised a brow. "What happened on your last birthday?" She said it slowly and cautiously. Bea knew that Mae's breakdown at college was still a sensitive subject. Mae might have been over college, but she wasn't over what had happened.
"Parents called. Didn't answer," Mae said. "Gregg sent an email. Didn't respond. My roommate was out doing some gorilla theater thing—"
"Guerrilla theater," Bea corrected.
Mae looked up at Bea from her laying position. The whole world was upside down. Weird. Why you upside down, Beatrice? That's not how gravity works, dummy.
"That's what I said. Gorilla theater. Like gorilla soldiers."
Bea frowned. "I can't tell if you're mispronouncing this, or if you think guerrilla soldiers are actual gorillas with guns."
That threw Mae off. She sat up and turned towards Bea, confused. "Aren't they?"
The blank look Bea gave to Mae didn't really answer her question. Beatrice sighed, bringing her hand to her face to rub at the bridge of her… snout? Was it called a snout? Mae was going to call it a snout.
"Mae, I'm too tired from work to explain this to you," she said. "Do you want to do anything for your birthday or not?"
Mae thought about it, and gave a shrug. "I mean, I do want to do something. It's just, without Pastabilities, I don't know what I'd want to do. Big Sal made some of my best birthdays."
Taco Buck was great, but it couldn't replace the pizza memories in Mae's heart.
Bea flipped absent-mindedly through the hardware catalogue. "So, what," she said, "you just want to eat pizza for your birthday?"
Mae frowned. "I can eat pizza any day, Beatrice. I want to have fun. I wanna party. We should all get together and do something, like go to Vegas, or steal a boat, or something."
"I mean, there's a club out in Hunwick," Bea said. "It's a little bit of a drive, but not too bad. We could all head out there some time this weekened."
"This weekend?" Mae asked. "Bea, my birthday isn't on the weekend."
"No," Bea said, speaking slowly again, "but we all have work, Mae. Everything opens late on Sunday. If we go out on Saturday, we can stay out later."
"Having a birthday party when it's not actually your birthday seems… perverse," Mae mused.
"It's a perverse world, Maeday," Bea sighed. "If the club idea doesn't sound good, I'm sure your parents will help you come up with something."
Mae didn't really need to think about it. The club idea sounded good. It would be fun to go to a club that didn't have Jackie or Andy Cullen at it. Plus, Mae had never been at a club with Gregg before. He'd probably try to dance. That'd be hilarious.
"Bea, this is a good idea, and you're a smart cookie," Mae said happily. "Let's spend my birthday clubbing. At a club. The birthday club."
On Mae's actual birthday, she and her parents enjoyed a nice dinner at Taco Buck, and then cake at home. A birthday at Taco Buck was nice, but it wasn't the same without Big Sal coming over and wishing her a happy birthday.
Mae wondered what Big Sal was up to now that Pastabilities was gone. She hoped he was doing okay. She hoped he still made pizzas.
When Mae had told her parents about the plan to go to a club with her friends, they'd been cool with it. She was an adult, after all, and they told she didn't need their permission. When parents said something like that, though, it sounded like she totally did.
They were probably worried about her. Mae was 21, and she was going to be at a place where alcohol happened. But Mae was confident that she wouldn't indulge.
Ugh. 'Indulge' sounded pretentious. Whatever.
Eventually, the big day came. Well, the big day after the big day. Also, it was night time, so it really wasn't a big day. More like a big evening.
Whatever.
The sky was turning a dark orange by the time they were on the way to Hunwick. Mae and Bea sat in the front seats, while Gregg, Angus, and Germ had been crammed into the back.
The drive to Hunwick only took an hour, but Mae felt herself feeling antsy less than fifteen minutes into the trip. For some reason, this whole thing felt really adult. Mae wasn't sure why. It was just going to be the five of them hanging out and pretending to dance.
Maybe they'd get ice cream afterwards. Who knew?
In the back seat, a conversation was brewing.
"No, dude, it's like a donut," Gregg explained emphatically. "But it's, like, a long tube that's been sprinkled with sugar. The ones we got at that Mexican place had, like, fruit inside of them."
"I know what a churro is," Germ said. "You don't have to tell me what a churro is, Gregg."
"Yeah, okay, so it's like fried dough," Gregg continued. "You can, like, drizzle chocolate on them, and they're crunchy… God, they're just perfect, dude."
"Why do you keep doing this?" Germ asked. "Stop telling me about churros."
Mae, for one, was very interested in learning more about churros. That being said, Gregg had been describing them for the last five minutes. It was making Mae hungry. She hoped they had churros at this club. Did they serve food at clubs?
That was a dumb question. What kind of place didn't serve food?
"If you don't stop talking about churros, Gregg, I am seriously going to make you ride in the trunk," Bea said testily. Annoyed Mom Friend.
"If you do that, I'm riding with him," Angus said. Protective Dad Friend.
Mae looked into the rearview mirror and watched as Gregg leaned against Angus, laughing appreciatively. Looking at them like this made Mae feel even guiltier about how she felt. They were so happy. They had a future out in Bright Harbor, but Mae couldn't stop feeling all… conflicted and shit.
Mae's gaze shifted towards the reflection of the backseat's other occupant. She saw Germ, sitting behind the driver's seat, staring straight at the mirror. It was like he was staring into her eyes.
Mae might have bonded a little with Germ, but he was still a weird, creepy man.
Then again, having a friend who was weird and creepy was cool. Did he have to keep staring, though?
Wait. Was he actually staring? Mae realized that, with Germ's big, unblinking eyes, it kind of looked like he was always staring at something. Mae found herself feeling sorry for Germ. She could sympathize with someone else who had nightmare eyes.
In the backseat, the topic of conversation had moved on from churros to crepes.
Mae was pretty big on parties, and on fun in general. One would expect that would mean she had a bit more experience with clubs, but that wasn't the case. Possum Springs was in the middle of nowhere, so most of the parties Mae had been to were house parties and bonfire get-togethers. Really, the only club Mae had been to was the weird basement that Jackie held her parties in.
The club in Hunwick, which was inexplicably called the Beaver's Rook, wasn't a basement. It was an actual brick building, with walls and everything. What's more, instead of a creepy set of stairs that lead into a cellar filled with dorks and social mistakes, there was a door. Hell, there was even a line. Not a long line, but a line nonetheless.
"How's this place even stay open?" Mae asked Bea while they waited in line. Beebee just shrugged.
"I mean, there's an agricultural college a few towns over," Bea said. "Farm kids probably come here every so often."
"Wouldn't they go to a club somewhere closer?" Mae asked. "Also, why is this place called the Beaver's Rook?"
"Beavers don't even have rooks," Angus pointed out.
"This whole place is a mystery!" Mae said, throwing her hands into the air.
After a few minutes, they were at the front of the line. Mae watched in confusion as the big, beefy guy at the front pressed a stamp onto the back of Bea's hand before letting her in. When it was Mae's turn, the bouncer looked at her expectantly.
"Photo ID?" He asked.
Mae looked at him as if she'd been asked something in a foreign language. Photo ID? Mae didn't even carry a wallet. She didn't think she carried a photo ID. She didn't really have much use for one. Everyone in Possum Springs knew who she was. More or less.
"Why do you need an ID?" Mae asked. "I'm 21."
"I'm not gonna believe that unless I see an ID," the bouncer said. "You look, like, 16."
Mae wanted to say something witty in retort. Something like, '16 my ass!' or 'Your face is 16!' But she decided against it. Having an outburst around a dude whose job was to literally throw people out of buildings sounded like a bad idea. Instead, Mae reached into her pockets and began fishing around.
Taco Buck receipt, pretzel crumbs, Donut Wolf receipt, bass pick she never used, some sort of dust bunny, library card, belt buckle, weird toy alligator, journal and pen…
Aha! Mae felt the stiff, laminated edges of what she'd been looking for. With a triumphant flourish, she whipped out the college ID she'd gotten at school. The flashbulb had gone off at the worst time, and Mae's eyes made her look like a hell demon, but there was no denying it was her.
The bouncer took the ID and inspected it for a second. He returned it to Mae with a nod. "Okay, go on ahead. Happy birthday."
"Oh. Thanks," Mae said as she stuffed the ID back into her weird, big pockets. Smiling to herself, Mae went ahead on into the club.
She was immediately caught off-guard.
The lighting and mood of the club was very similar to the one Mae and Bea usually went to. A small, circular bar loaded with brightly colored drinks of all sorts sat in the middle of what was probably supposed to be the dancefloor. At the back of the club was a stage. Rather than a DJ, it looked like some rockabilly band was setting up.
Almost everyone else was dressed in camo, or flannel, or was wearing a trucker cap. Country décor hung on the walls. The thought crossed Mae's mind that this was probably what the inside of Casey's head had looked like. Country Trash Proud, he'd called himself.
Bea was standing off to Mae's side while the rest of the gang filed in. "This place was… different the last time I came here," she said.
"When were you here before?" Mae asked. While the band was setting up, a country song about someone's dead dog started playing. Music like this always made Mae think of her uncle's pickup truck.
Mae's uncle wasn't even that into country music. His pickup truck was just very, very country.
"Like, eight months ago? I think?" Bea said. "The Turner twins were having a birthday. Do you remember them?"
"I mean, they were the only twins in Possum Springs, Bea," Mae pointed out. Aside from that, Mae didn't know much about Doug and Dana Turner. She remembered Doug had tried to grow a mustache once. It hadn't gone well.
"Oh, man," Gregg said as he joined them. "This place reminds me of the Tex-Mex place my cousin owned before that drug bust."
"Why did you decide to celebrate Mae's birthday at a honky-tonk?" Angus asked.
"It wasn't like this last time!" Bea shouted out. "It was, like, all ravey and shit!"
"This place makes my skin feel weird," Germ said.
With that, everyone had said something in the conversation. Mae was proud of her friends for all talking.
"Well, it's not so bad," Mae said cheerfully. "I mean, we're all pretty country, right? Possum Springs is kind of country."
"Possum Springs is, like, the sad kind of country," Angus said. "This is the happy kind of country. Only the happy kind of country has rockabilly music."
"Shit, Cap'n, we've gotta dance to that suff," Gregg said happily. Angus just chuckled in response. Mae couldn't really picture Angus dancing. Or Gregg dancing, for that matter. Only Mae and Bea had the moves.
The five made their way to the bar in the center of the club. A tall, familiar-looking man in a trucker cap stood behind the counter. "Welcome to Beaver's Roost," the man said.
It took Mae a moment to place his face, since it had been a month or two since she'd seen him. Eventually, though, she recognized him as the world's worst conversationalist. "Hey," she said. "You're Buck, right? We met a while ago."
"I'm Buck," Buck said. "I work here on Tuesdays nights."
"It's Saturday," Mae pointed out. This didn't seem to faze Buck, as he simply walked to the other side of the bar to begin fixing drinks. With a shrug, Mae hopped up onto one of the bar stools. Bea and Germ soon joined her, while Gregg and Angus stood behind them. There weren't enough stools for the gang, sadly.
Bea opened her mouth to speak, and Mae instantly knew that she was about to kick into full Mom Friend mode. "Now, Mae," Bea said, "if you drink anything tonight, take it easy. Make sure you get food and water."
Mae let loose a long, tired moan as she rolled her eyes. "Bea, I wasn't even planning on drinking," she said. "Seriously. Anyway, after the last time, I'm sure I'd be able to handle myself. I learn from my experiences."
"Do you, though?" Bea asked.
"She'll be fine, dude," Gregg said, slapping Bea on the back. "She's gonna have four of us watching out for her."
"I didn't agree to this," Germ said. "Let the girl live her life."
Once again, Mae had no idea if Germ was joking or not. That seemed to happen a lot with the little guy. Dude needed to work on his delivery. Dude needed to work on a lot of things.
Bea just sighed. Mae got the feeling that, even with four chaperones, Bea was still worried. Mae kind of got that. She was a real handful. So long as she didn't drink, though, Mae would be completely fine. And what kind of situation could possibly arise that would drive Mae to drink?
The music playing from the speakers began to die down, and the sound of mic feedback filled the air. On stage, the lead singer for the rockabilly band was speaking into his microphone. Mae couldn't make out anything he was saying. After a few seconds of the band's garbled intro, music filled the air.
"Oh god. Oh god," Gregg said. His arms began flailing at his sides as he got into the groove of things. "Dude! Dude dude dude dude dude! Cap'n, come on, let's go!" Gregg reached out and took hold of Angus's hand. Mae almost expected Angus to refuse, but the big guy simply laughed and followed Gregg out onto the dancefloor.
Watching them out there, Mae realized she had been completely correct: neither of them could dance. Poor nerds.
Mae's attention was pulled away from her best friends' gyrations by Buck, the inexplicable bartender. "Can I get you guys anything?" He asked.
Bea looked down at the indistinct, black ink stain that had been pressed on the back of her hand. When Mae looked to her left, she saw that Germ had a similar symbol. It must have been some mark for lame kids who couldn't drink, so that the bartenders knew to laugh at them.
"I'll just have a Fiascola," Bea sighed.
"Smoothie," Germ said. That got him a few odd looks.
"Like, are you asking for a smoothie, or just saying smoothie?" Buck asked.
Germ shrugged. "Whatever," he said.
Buck followed suit, and shrugged as well. "Whatever," he said.
Mae's turn. It came down to this. Mae knew that ordering a beer or something was probably a bad idea. On the other hand, she was 21 now. She probably had to get used to booze, otherwise all of the other adults would think she was lame. Still, was the gross taste of beer really worth it?
Then again, there were other drinks. There was, like, cocktails, and vodka, or whatever. One of those was bound to taste good, right? Not all alcohol tasted nasty, right? Right! Mae could try something new! She was an adult! She wasn't some kid!
"What alcohol tastes the most like soda?" Mae asked, trying her best to sound sophisticated.
"Uh… I could make a cocktail with cola in it," Buck said.
Mae smiled, nodding confidently. "Alright. Okay, good. I'll take a medium one of those, please." A medium was probably a safe bet, right?
As Buck went off to prepare their drinks, Bea shot Mae another Mom Friend look. "You literally just said you weren't planning on drinking," she said.
Mae shrugged. "We both know I'm not great at planning stuff out, Beebee. I live in the moment. I'm a wild card." She paused, her confidence fading slightly. "Besides, I figured I should at least try something."
"Well, you'd better not drink too much," Bea said with a sigh. "I'm paying for this, but I'm not made of money."
After only a few minutes, the drinks arrived. While Gregg and Angus attempted to shake what their assorted mothers gave them, Buck set out three glasses go Germ, Mae, and Bea. They were all the same sized glass. Had Mae not gotten a medium? Mae suspected she hadn't gotten a medium.
Also, instead of a smoothie, Germ had just been given a little plastic bottle of milk. He didn't seem to mind.
As the band shifted into a slower song and Gregg and Angus returned to the group, Mae pulled the cocktail over to her. It looked like a soda. It kind of smelled like a soda. But, apparently, it had, like, beer in it. Or something. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
"Man, we're both awful dancers!" Gregg exclaimed happily. Mae normally would have made some sort of snappy remark, but instead she was focusing on that there cocktail. She placed her lips on the straw and began to drink.
"Honestly, Bug, I don't think anyone can blame us," Angus said. "Neither of us knew what we were doing."
"Oh, shit," Gregg said.
Mae didn't know what he was saying 'shit' about. The cold mixture of booze and cola entered Mae's mouth. Almost immediately, Mae Borowski realized she'd made an awful mistake. The cola didn't make the alcohol taste better. If anything, this mixture was just ruining the delicious soda! Mae felt an almost irresistible urge to spit the cocktail out.
"Mae, are you okay?" Gregg asked. Mae didn't respond. For some reason, she was still holding the mouthful of cocktail in her mouth. Why hadn't she swallowed it yet? "Dude, your face is red. Don't worry, he didn't see you."
What? Who didn't see her? What was Gregg talking about?
Mae's eyes were beginning to water as she lifted her head, her focus shifting to the opposite end of the bar. Buck was standing in the way, blocking her from seeing whoever it was Gregg was talking about. Then, Buck moved, clearing the path.
And Mae swallowed her mouthful of cocktail in a sharp, nervous gulp.