JENNIE
Lisa's nostrils flare as she tries to control her temper. I glance over at Robert, who looks slightly uncomfortable, though not in the least bit intimidated by Lisa.
"If you're purposely trying to make me angry, it's working," Lisa says.
"I'm not, I just don't want to go." And right as the music cuts off, I practically yell, "I want to drink and be young and have fun!"
Everyone turns to me. I'm not sure what to do with all the attention, so I awkwardly wave my hand in the air. Someone gives a hoot of approval, and half the bar raises their glasses in salute and then goes back to talking. The music resumes, and Robert laughs. Lisa glowers.
"You've obviously had enough to drink," she says, eyeing the now half-empty glass that Robert brought to me.
"News flash, Lisa: I'm an adult," I remark in a childish tone.
"Dammit, Jennie."
"Maybe I should go . . ." Robert stands.
"Obviously," Lisa replies at the same time that I say "No."
But then, looking around us, I let out a sigh. As much as I was enjoying my evening with Robert, I know that Lisa will stand here the entire time making rude remarks, threats, whatever she has to do to make him leave. It's better if he does go.
"I'm sorry. I'll go and you can stay," I tell Robert.
He shakes his head with understanding. "No, no—don't worry about it. I had a long day, anyway." He's so calm and easygoing about everything. It's really refreshing.
"I'll walk you out," I tell him. I'm not sure if I'll ever see him again, and he's been so kind to me tonight.
"No, you won't," Lisa chimes in, but I ignore her and follow Robert toward the door of the small bar. When I look back at the table, Lisa is leaning against it with her eyes closed. I hope she's taking deep breaths in and out, because I'm in no mood for her crap tonight.
Once we get outside, I turn to Robert. "I really am sorry. I didn't know she was here. I was just trying to have a fun night."
Robert smiles and slouches a little to better meet my eyes. "Remember when I said to stop to apologizing for everything?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pad and pen. "I'm not expecting anything, but if someday you're bored and alone in Seattle, give me a call. Or not. It's up to you if you want to or not." He writes something down, then hands it to me.
"Okay." I don't want to make any promises that I can't keep, so I just smile and tuck the small paper into the top of my dress. "Sorry!" I squeak when I realize that I basically just fondled myself in front of him.
"Stop saying sorry!" He laughs. "And especially not for that!" He looks at the entrance to the bar, then out at the dark, dark night. "Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you; maybe we'll see one another again?"
I nod and smile as he walks down the sidewalk.
"It's cold out here," Lisa's voice says behind me, scaring the shit out of me.
I huff and walk past her back into the bar. The table that I was sitting at is now taken by a bald man and his supersized mug of beer. I grab my purse off the stool next to him, and he just gives me a dead-eyed look. Or rather, gives my breasts one.
Lisa is behind me. Again. "Let's just go, please."
I step over to the bar area. "Can I just get two feet of space? I don't even want to be around you right now. You said some pretty hateful things to me," I remind her.
"You know I didn't mean them," she answers, defending herself, attempting to make eye contact with me. I'm not falling for it.
"That doesn't mean you can say them." I look over at the girl—Lillian's girlfriend—who's watching Lisa and me from the bar. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I was having a nice night, and you aren't ruining it."
Lisa steps in between us. "So you don't want me here?" Her eyes flash with hurt, and something in their green depths makes me backtrack.
"I'm not saying that, but if you're going to tell me that you don't love me or how you use me for sex again, then you need to go. Or I will." I'm trying my hardest to keep my bubbly, giggly attitude instead of sinking down and letting the pain and frustration take over.
"You are the one who started all this shit when you came here with him—drunk, might I add . . ." she begins.
I sigh. "Here we go." Lisa is the king of double standards. Her latest one is walking toward us now.
"Jesus, would you two shut up. We're in a public place." The beautiful girl that Lisa was sitting with interrupts us.
"Not now," Lisa snaps at her.
"Come on, Lisa's obsession. Let's take a seat at the bar," she says, ignoring Lisa.
Sitting at a table toward the back of the bar and having a drink brought to me is one thing; sitting at the bar top and ordering my own is another. "I'm not old enough," I inform her.
"Oh, please. With that dress on, you'll get a drink." She stares at my chest, and I pull the front up slightly.
"If I get kicked out, it's your fault," I tell her, and she tips her head back in laughter.
"I'll bail you out of jail." She winks, and Lisa stiffens next to me. She watches her with warning in her eyes, and I can't help but laugh. She tried to make me jealous with Lillian all night, and now she's jealous of Lillian's girlfriend winking at me.
All of this juvenile back-and-forth—she's jealous, I'm jealous, the old lady at the bar is jealous, everyone is jealous—it's annoying. Slightly entertaining, especially now, but still annoying.
"My name is Riley, by the way." She takes a seat at the end of the bar. "I'm sure your rude-ass girlfriend isn't planning on introducing us."
I glance back at Lisa, expecting her to cuss her out, but she only rolls her eyes, which is pretty restrained for her. She tries to sit at the stool between us, but I grab the back, then place my hand on her arm to help myself get up onto it. I know I shouldn't be touching her, but I want to sit here and enjoy my last night of this minivacation-turned-disaster. Lisa has scared away my new friend, and Jisoo is probably already asleep by now. I don't have any other options except sitting alone in the room back at the cabin. This seems better.
"What can I get you?" a copper-haired bartender in a jean jacket asks me.
"We'll have three shots of Jack. Chill them first," Riley answers for me.
The woman scans my face for a few seconds, and my heart begins to race. "Coming up," she says finally, and pulls three shot glasses from under the bar and places them in front of us.
"I wasn't going to drink. I only had one before you came," Lisa leans over and says into my ear.
"Drink what you want; I am," I say without looking at her. Still, I silently pray that she doesn't get too drunk. I never know how she'll act.
"I can see that," she says by way of scolding me.
I look at her with scorn, but end up staring at her mouth instead. Sometimes I just sit and stare at the slow movements of her lips when she talks; it's one of my favorite things to do.
Perhaps noticing I've softened somewhat, she asks, "Are you upset with me still?"
"Yes, very."
"Then why are you acting like you aren't?" Her lips move even slower. I really need to find out the name of that wine. It was really good.
"I already told you, I want to have fun," I repeat. "Are you mad at me?"
"I always am," she replies.
I laugh a little. "Isn't that the truth."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing." I smile innocently and watch her rub the back of her neck with her hand, pinching the top of her shoulders between her thumb and forefinger.
A shot of brown liquor is placed in front of me seconds later, and Riley raises her shot glass to Lisa and me. "Here's to dysfunctional, borderline-psychotic relationships." She smirks and tilts her head back to take her shot.
Lisa followers her lead.
I take a deep breath before welcoming the cool burn of whiskey down my throat.
"ONE MORE!" Riley cheers, sliding another shot in front of me.
"I dunno if I can," I slur. "I've never b-been this drunk, never never."
The whiskey has officially taken over my mind, set up camp, and doesn't appear to be leaving anytime soon. Lisa is up to five shots, I lost count of mine after three, and I'm pretty sure Riley should be heaving on the floor from alcohol poisoning by now.
"I feel like this whiskey tastes good," I remark, dipping my tongue into the chilled shot.
Next to me, Lisa laughs, and I lean into her shoulder and put my hand on her thigh. Her eyes immediately follow my hand, and I quickly pull it away. I shouldn't be acting like nothing happened earlier—I know I shouldn't, but it's easier said than done. Especially when I can barely think straight and Lisa looks so good in her white button-down shirt. I'll deal with our problems tomorrow.
"See, all you needed was a little whiskey to loosen up." Riley slams her empty shot glass on the bar top, and I giggle.
"What?" she barks.
"You and Lisa are the same." I cover my mouth to conceal my obnoxious giggles.
"No we aren't," Lisa says, speaking at that slower pace she resorts to when she's intoxicated. So does Riley.
"Yes—you are! It's like a mirror." I laugh. "Does Lillian know you're here?" I swing my head to the side and ask her.
"Nope. She's asleep for now." She licks her lips. "But I fully intend on waking her up when I return."
The music starts to increase in volume again, and I watch the copper-haired woman climb onto the bar for probably the fourth time tonight.
"Again?" Lisa scrunches her nose, and I laugh.
"I think it's funny." I think everything is funny right now.
"I think it's lame, and it interrupts me every thirty minutes," she gripes.
"You should go up there." Riley nudges me.
"Up where?"
"The bar, you should dance on the bar."
I shake my head and laugh. And blush. "No way!"
"Come on—you've been whining about being young and having fun, or whatever the hell you were going on and on about. Now's your chance. Dance on the bar."
"I can't dance." It's true. I've only danced, excluding slow dancing, once, and that was at the nightclub in Seattle.
"No one will notice—they're all even more wasted than you." She raises a brow, challenging me.
"No fucking way," Lisa says.
Through my drunken haze I remember one thing: I'm sure as hell done letting her tell me what I can and can't do.
Without a word, I reach down and unfasten the horribly uncomfortable straps around my ankles and let my high heels drop to the floor.
Lisa's eyes are wide as I climb on top of the stool, then onto the bar. "What are you doing?" She stands and looks behind us as the few patrons left in the bar begin to cheer. "Jen . . ."
The song gets louder, and the woman who has been serving us drinks smiles wickedly at me and takes my hand. "Do you know any line dances, honey?" she yells
I shake my head, suddenly unsure of myself.
"I'll teach you!" she yells.
What the hell was I thinking? I just wanted to prove a point to Lisa, and look where it got me—on top of a bar getting ready to attempt a dance . . . of some kind. I'm not even sure what a line dance is, exactly. If I'd known I was going to be up here, I would have planned it out better and paid more attention to the women when they were dancing earlier.
