Page 121 of Bourbon Bliss
“Sorry Juney,” Cassidy said. “I’m trying not to pull.”
I sat in a chair we’d dragged into my parents’ bathroom, facing away from the mirror. I still didn’t understand why we were getting ready for the Do-Over Prom at our parents’ house, but the other girls had loved the idea. Something about nostalgia anddoing it right this time.
From a practical standpoint, my parents did have the largest bathroom of any of us. Scarlett’s house was bursting at the seams with two people and her psychotic cat. Cassidy and Bowie were still remodeling their duplex into a single residence. The dust alone was a nightmare, not to mention the allergy-inducing dander from her two cats. My house was not tiny, nor was it in a state of construction or contaminated by cat hair. But my two bathrooms weren’t large, and the other girls had insisted the primping ritual would be fun this way.
They’d been right. It was fun.
I hadn’t turned over my findings about the Callie Kendall impostor. Not yet. There had been a time when I wouldn’t have considered waiting. I had the data, it needed to be shared. End of story. But I’d realized that when it came to people, facts and data weren’t always the most important thing. There were thoughts and feelings behind every story, every situation. And in this case, my resolve to uncover the truth and expose Abbie Gilbert as the fake she was had to be tempered with compassion.
The news that Callie was still missing—and that we’d been fooled by an impostor—was going to hit my town hard. This was going to affect the lives of people I cared about. My sister. Scarlett and her entire family. So before blurting out what I knew, I’d thought about it. And come to the conclusion that waiting a few days—at least until after the Do-Over Prom—was the kind thing to do.
Cassidy stood behind me, doing something with my hair that involved a curling iron. She had a YouTube tutorial open on her phone and checked it periodically, as if to make sure she was on the right track. Leah Mae had already done my makeup, but they were refusing to let me see the results.
Scarlett sat on the counter, one leg lifted so she could paint her toenails. Leah Mae stood on my other side, leaning toward the mirror as she brushed color across her eyelid.
“Why didn’t you just get a pedicure?” Cassidy asked.
“I did, but I didn’t like the color,” Scarlett said. “Are you almost done? You still need to do mine.”
“I know, keep your panties on,” Cassidy said. “We have time.”
“I’ll keep ’em on for now, but they’re definitely coming off later tonight,” Scarlett said with a wicked grin.
“Preach, sister,” Cassidy said. “Knowing we’re getting laid on prom night sure does take off some of the pressure, doesn’t it?”
“Yep,” Scarlett said. “So does knowing my date isn’t a jackass. I swear, what were we thinking back in high school?”
“Good question,” Cassidy said.
Even I had been burned by a boy in high school. It seemed none of us had come out unscathed.
“Maturity makes a significant difference,” I said.
“Isn’t that the truth,” Leah Mae said. She dipped her mascara wand into the bottle. “My prom date got mad because the heels I wore made us the same height. He wouldn’t dance with me unless I took them off. So there I was, barefoot on the dance floor, and I stepped on something sharp.”
“Ouch,” Cassidy said.
“Yeah, and it gets worse,” Leah Mae said. “I yelped and looked down. There was already blood all over. My date took one look at my bleeding foot and fainted.”
Scarlett laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Leah Mae said. “He crumpled to the floor and everyone was so busy making sure he was okay, I just stood there, bleeding all over the place. I limped to the bathroom by myself, then called my mom to come pick me up.”
“That is an unfortunate turn of events,” I said.
“My date didn’t faint, but he did get so drunk he spent the entire night puking out back behind the gym,” Cassidy said.
“I remember that,” Scarlett said. “And I was covered in mud because Freddy Sleeth’s tire went flat on the way to the dance, and he didn’t know how to change it himself.”
“If I recall, you were still crowned prom queen,” Cassidy said.
“Course I was,” Scarlett said, then she winced. “Aw, dang, Cass, I got drunk that night, too, didn’t I? You had to deal with a drunk date and a drunk best friend.”
“Mm-hmm,” Cassidy hummed, tugging on my hair. “That’s okay, though. We did a lot of dumb things back then.”
“We’re much more mature now,” Scarlett said, pointing the nail polish brush at Cassidy. “Although nottoomature.”
“Amen to that, too,” Cassidy said. She fluffed my hair. “All right, Juney, I think we’re done.”
