Page 41 of Endurance
I grab my mobile and call Indie.
“Hello, Belle,” she answers on the second ring.
“Indie, darling. I had the absolute best day. We need to celebrate. Tequila Sunrise style.”
“Oh…erm…yeah. I think I could do that! Don’t you have to work tomorrow, though?”
I sense her hesitation has something to do with Camden, but I’m glad she’s willing to put him aside for the night and be my wing-woman.
“I was able to secure a personal day for tomorrow. I miss our girl time.”
She sighs. “Me, too. Great then, I’m looking forward to it.”
“See you at home?” I ask.
“See you at home.”
I stop at the store to pick up the necessary items for our drinks. It’s a recipe the paediatric doctor on call gave us the night the baby came into the hospital DOA.
Tequila Sunrise:
1 part Grenadine
3 parts Tequila
6 parts Orange Juice
Do not mix.
The recipe was a metaphor for life that changed my outlook on everything. The simple words that doctor uttered to Indie and me still ring so true in my soul.“There’s always sunshine above the chaos, ladies. Celebrate it.”
I hope that even in our old age, Indie and I are still celebrating life together because it can be so rewarding sometimes.
Reyna, Liam, and their three little babies are on my mind the entire time I get myself ready for the night. The hope and possibility I saw in their eyes…the transformation from complete and utter fear to total blissed-out acceptance was magic.
“Is this good enough?” Indie asks, her mouth sucking down a gulp of her colourful drink as she materialises in my bathroom doorway.
I’m seated crisscross on the counter as close to the mirror as I can get, wearing nothing but my black bra and knickers. I pause my mascara application to appraise my best friend. Her hair is down and in a riot of untamed red curls that only she can pull off. She’s dressed in a black jumpsuit that plunges deeply to her cleavage.
“That’s fucking hot. Put on my Stuart Weitzman’s and you’re all set.”
“Oh! The strappy ones!” Indie turns to rush over to my closet and I hurry up to finish my makeup.
Once complete, I hop off my counter and grab my simple black jersey dress that I have laid out on a towel warmer. It’s long sleeve and venturing on too short, but when I pair it with my lambskin Chanel, over-the-knee boots, it’s the kind of outfit that gets me noticed by both males and females.
“Yes!” Indie croons as I stride out with my drink in hand, ready and raring to go.
“It’s the boots,” I reply knowingly. Shoes are an indulgence that I can’t seem to kick. “Ready for Club Taint?” I ask.
“So ready.”
It’s eleven before we arrive at Club Taint, and Indie and I are already feeling fucking fantastic as we push our way through the crowd to find the dancefloor. The beat of the music calls to me like a drug. A drug that wants me to lose myself with it for hours.
I pull Indie out with me and we dance and dance and dance, throwing ourselves into movements that feel so good I never want them to stop. Hours tick by, drinks get drunk, laughs get had, dance partners come and go, all while I allow the synthetic melody breathe energy into me. All of it helps me forget everything horrid in the world. All the crap, all the sadness, lives lost, vacant parents, arsehole brothers, babies dying…all of it, gone. Evaporated with the swirling pink fog of the club.
Indie smiles, locking eyes with me, a look of exhilaration and sublime happiness spreading over her features. She pulls me in for a hug. “I miss you, Belle.”
My eyes sting at her words. “I miss you, too, darling.”
