She takes another drink, then practically slams her glass down.
“Ugh. That is so gross,” Julia says.
We commiserate with her for a few more minutes, and then Julia regales us with her craziest work stories, and soon Erin has downed another glass.
I excuse myself for the restroom. Once inside, I reach for my phone again. I don’t want them to know I’m texting with Chris. Not when they’re having such a good time playing the game too. Besides, Chris is just playing the game as well, I tell myself. I can’t let myself get too fixated on one guy, even though I want to. Especially since there’s a new message from him, and his name alone on my screen thrills me. Testing out the new Ajax Extra car racing game. It sucks…Where are the girls tonight?
He asked me another question. He likes chatting with me. And I like chatting with him so much it’s starting to scare me. But in a good way. In the way that makes my mouth curve into a smile and my skin tingle.
We’re making the rounds on Fillmore Street. What part of the city do you live in?
I hit send, tuck the phone in my purse and return to Erin. During my short bathroom trip, she’s managed to acquire another vodka and she’s quickly necking this one back.
Then we leave and we blanket nearby bars, laughing like college girls playing pranks, as we hand out Trophy Husband flyers at The Pink Pantry, Cosmo Pete’s, Akimbo and Car 282. People are getting a kick out of the contest, saying they love how it turns the tables. That’s the point, and I love it when people get the point I’m making.
But I am also feeling pretty good because Chris and I have been texting all night. And even though I’ve only consumed two beers in two hours, his notes are giving me a little buzz of their own.
Erin, however, has been drinking enough for the four of us. I lost count of how many she’s polished off. She’s pretty sloshed, laughing her ass off at nearly everything and bobbing and weaving as she heads to the restroom, now that we’re back at our home base of the Tiki Bar, mission accomplished many times over.
“What are we going to do about her?” Hayden asks, pointing to the ladies room. “She drove here from work.”
“We need to take her home, obviously.”
“I need to head back anyway since Lena will be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow. So we’ll all just catch a cab and drop her off?”
“Yeah, and I guess she’ll just get her car tomorrow,” I say, then reach into my purse once more when I feel my phone vibrate. The girls are chatting amongst themselves now, so I figure I can get away with a quick reply to Chris. Provided it’s Chris. I hope it’s Chris. How’s the night going? Will it be an all nighter?
I tap back: Wrapping up soon. What are you doing?
The girls chatter more. Chris replies almost instantly.
Closing shop for the night. No more games. I’m ready for more rules. You?
Rules? Is he asking to see me? I glance quickly at my friends, then at Erin, zigzagging her way back to the table, her eyes a little loopy from the liquor.
She plops down, resting her head on my shoulder. I pet her short, spiky hair. “Hey, babe. We’re all going to share a cab and get you home safely.”
She springs up. “What about my car?” She’s got a look of sheer terror in her eyes.
“Erin, we’ll come get it tomorrow.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “No, no, no. Pete will freak out if I leave the car on Fillmore overnight. He’s always worried that cars will be towed or vandalized.”
“Erin, are you nuts? Pete will be fine with the car.”
“No, no, no,” she says again, adamant. Then she looks at me with big puppy dog eyes. “Please, McKenna. Please take my car home tonight. You have a two-car garage. Please. You’re not drunk. Please drive my car home. Please.”
“Erin,” I say patiently. “Sweetie, I had two drinks. I can’t drive for another hour.”
“Take it home in an hour then, please?”
Then it hits me. Rules. Hour. You. I hold up a finger, telling Erin to wait. I reach for my phone again, tapping back a reply. Can you meet me at Tiki Bar in 15 minutes? I’m still not even sure he was asking me for a drink. But I’m seizing the moment. I’m making the most of my night out before a heavy week of dating starts. His yes arrives seconds later. So I help hail a cab for Hayden and Erin, then wait for another one for Julia since she lives in the opposite direction.
“It’s just you and me, sis,” Julia says, looping her arm through mine.
Uh oh. I thought Julia was leaving too. “Um, Julia,” I begin, feeling my face turning red as I try to think of ways to politely ask her to get the hell out of here.
She looks at me, wide-eyed, her jaw open, seeing right through me. She pokes my chest. “You’re meeting a boy!”
“No,” I say quickly. Then I change my tune. “Actually, yes.”
She holds up a hand for a high-five. “You work fast!”
“Actually. He’s that video game guy. You know the one who talked up my show last week and sent all those guys to me?”
Julia gives me a quizzical look. “He’s twenty-three?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?”
“Weird, he seemed more like our age. But cool. He wants in on the action?”
“Um, yeah, as it turns out. He’s a fun guy, liked the contest, so he wanted to join in too.”
“But I thought you were saying he kind of ran a big video game empire or something?”
What is this – Twenty Questions?
“Yeah. So?”
“I just figured a Trophy Husband doesn’t work. You know, because trophy wives don’t work. But heck, what do I know? You’re making the rules up as you go along, you’re a pioneer! You’re blazing a trail to a world teeming with Trophy Husbands!”
“That’s me. The pioneer,” I say dryly.
She wags a finger at me. “Just remember. Twenty-three and under. Only younger guys.”
“Totally. Of course. I took the oath. I’d never break it.”
“You better not.” She raises her hand and waves frantically at a nearby cab.
“I won’t,” I say with a fake smile. I have just lied to my sister, to my awesome amazing sister who I love. I have just lied to her face about Chris’ age. About the oath I took. The girlfriend oath that I’m breaking. Then, I remind myself that Chris is not going to be the winner. This little thing we have going on is a business deal, a promotional partnership. It’s a game. That’s all it is. A game. Still, I feel a little creepy, a little conniving for telling a lie.