Page 30 of My So-Called Perfect Life
“What do you mean, not your type? They’re male, and they look hot from here.”
“They look like they’d be a good time. Maybe just not all at once,” I joke.
Mercy did have a few threesomes back in the day. She came from a small farming town upstate and made sure she got all the life experience she could out of college.
“So funny.” She sticks her tongue out. “But, seriously, I’m wondering if it’s time to stop having a good time and look for someone to settle down with.”
I almost choke on my overly priced handcrafted artisan beer. “You want to settle down?”
She picks at her pizza and shrugs. “I do want a family one day. I won’t get that by only looking for guys who can show me a fun night. My dating life is a string of brief encounters with men only interested in sex. I’d like more than one day.”
“Wow.” Amelia looks shocked.
Mercy has been her wingwoman forever. After I started dating Scott and didn’t party the way they did, their bond really formed. Amelia’s never had many female friends. She’s always been beautiful and outgoing, and that’s intimidating to a lot of girls. Or at least, to the girls in our suburban hometown.
Raising my beer, I make a toast. “Well then, here’s to one last girls’ weekend. One last hurrah before Mercy starts passing up all the Mr. Right Nows in search of Mr. Right.”
We eat and finish our beer before getting another round.
“So, what do we want to do?” Mercy asks, finishing off her quinoa beer. It sounds gross, but surprisingly, it’s not bad.
Amelia checks her watch. “There’s some art exhibit going on down by my office. It doesn’t start until eight. Some laser show or something. We could still make it.”
Amelia is a social worker and works downtown. There’re always different things happening over there.
“Sure,” I say. “Sounds like it could be interesting.”
“Let’s take the subway though,” Mercy suggests as we stand from the table. “It’s freaking stifling out here, and I don’t want to look or smell like a hot mess.”
All in agreement about not walking across the city, we head toward the subway station a few blocks over.
“Guys, I have to go to the restroom, bad. But I really don’t want to deal with the pain that comes with it.”
This burning sensation is no joke. I don’t think I’d wish this on my worst enemy. It’s like a thousand fire ants live in my bladder, and they’re angry, stinging their way out.
Mercy gives me an apologetic look. “Holding it in isn’t going to help.”
“Stupid Mr. Sexy and his pierced cock. I’d like to give that guy a piece of my mind!”
“You said cock.” Amelia laughs. “It sounds so cute and endearing, coming out of your mouth with your little teacher voice.”
“Well, this teacher voice would give him the smackdown of his life if I ever saw him again.”
“Okay, Miss Badass.” She chuckles some more. “How strong were those beers you drank? You a little drunk on us, Dani?”
I shake my head and sigh, my false bravado leaving my body. “No. I mean, I’m a little buzzed, but mostly, I just have to pee, and it’s going to hurt like hell.”
Mercy grips my hand. “Well, it’s gotta be done. So, come on.” She nods behind me. “We’ll head in the bar over there and use the restroom. I’ll hold your hand.”
I turn to head to the bar and stop dead in my tracks. “Holy shit.”
“What?” they both ask in unison.
“That’s the bar I met Mr. Chlamydia in.”
Amelia, who seems to find every uncomfortable notion of my life comical, giggles. “This is just priceless.”
My false bravado returns. Adrenaline courses through my veins, pumping me full of just the right amount of indignation I need to go tell off that asshole.
