Page 66 of Castling the Rook (Checkmate 3)

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Andi

Rescue Mission

“Mia?” Shouting over the deep bass of the club my boss decided to get wasted in tonight, I run into the bathroom behind her and sigh when she drops to her knees and throws up enough alcohol to poison an elephant. Women come and go through the packed bathroom. Heels click against tile floors, and skirts are tucked into pantyhose because women are too drunk to realize.

Letting Mia chuck, I turn and catch a woman before her confidence embarrasses her. Swinging around with pink eyes, she flashes a goofy grin and pats my arm. “I’m so sorry. You’re beautiful, but I don’t bang chicks.”

“No.” Laughing despite my mood, I spin her and yank the dress from her hose. “Just a sister helping out a sister. You’re all set now.”

“Aww thanks!” Lifting her hand and flashing a peace sign, she flips waist length hair back until it almost whips my face, then sashays out of the bathroom with a heavy tilt to the left.

Turning back to Mia, I hold out my cell like she gives a shit. “Are you okay? Because I gotta run outside and make a call. It’s important I call him back.” In lieu of a verbal answer, she brings up a river of red lemonade and vodka until her back arches and she chokes on the horrible liquid.

“Jesus, Mia.” Stepping into the stall in jeans and sneakers, I tuck my cell into my back pocket, lean over Mia, and pull her ash blonde hair back. Grimacing, I resist the urge – barely – to not wipe my now vomit-covered hands onto my jeans. “How much did you drink, dummy?”And why the hell did you call me?

“He didn’t come.” Flopping to her ass when the vomit slows, Mia leans against the stall wall and sits in God knows what on the filthy floors. Looking up at me through smudged eyes, she weeps. “I had a date! I finally had a date, but he didn’t turn up.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“Because he’s a dick, obviously!” Vomit breath hits my face and claws dirty fingers into my lungs until I want to join her on the floor. Clamping my lips shut and squatting down so we’re almost on the same level, I hold her hand and don’t mention how I’m going to sanitize it in just a minute.

“You had a date tonight, and he stood you up?” She gives a pathetic nod. “So you got trashed instead?”

“I was drinking to calm my nerves,” she weeps. “I can’t be like you, Andi. I can’t sit in a club alone and watch all the men come to you. I can’t sit at the bar alone and not feel like they’ve got a spotlight on me, so I ordered a drink to give me something to do with my hands.”

“You kept ordering,” I sigh. “And he didn’t come.”

“Why can’t I find happiness?” She hiccups. Swiping a filthy hand over her face, she messes up her makeup until she resembles Heath Ledger’s Joker. “Why can’t a man look at me the way he looks at you? Why can’t I find love?”

“Honestly?” I feel the hot stares of women behind me. I feel their attention, but I don’t shuffle Mia out of the stall. “I swear, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, Mia, but you’re a bitch.” It’s like the whole bathroom gasps. There’s this rule that drunk women in a bathroom are supposed to be uber supportive. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, no matter what. Well, that’s what I’m doing. They just don’t know it yet. “You’re so highly strung, everyone knows you’re gonna explode over the smallest shit. You’re so judgmental, no one wants to be your friend, because they know you’re gonna bitch about their outfit or the single pound they gained last month. No one wants to invite you over for dinner, because you’re so desperate for a man, they’re afraid you’ll hit on their husbands.”

Heavy tears slide along her cheeks. “Why are you so mean? Why can’t you be a nice friend?”

“I am being a friend right now, Mia. Honesty is way better than ass pats, even if it doesn’t feel as good. I won’t sit here and tell you that no-show is a prick for standing you up. I won’t pass judgment on him, because for all we know, he did show up, then he saw your crazy eyes and figured you’d be pregnant and married by morning just to trap him. You need to get up off the dirty bathroom floor and sober the hell up, then you’ve gotta work onyou. Your desperation is like a visible, smelly cloud with cartoon squiggly lines coming out the top. Everyone who meets you can smell it. Everyone you talk to can sense it. You’re mean.” I drag her wandering eyes back to mine. “You’re mean! You pass judgment on people you don’t know. You call coffee-shop-Leah a fat bitch, because she wears size fourteen jeans and has a hot husband that adores her. That has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with you and your insecurity.”

“I never told Leah…”

I roll my eyes. “You told me. You tell everyoneexcepther. That doesn’t make you a hero who’s sensitive to her feelings; it makes you a backstabbing bitch with no spine. You tear me apart at work for time off, when I don’t actually take time off! You think I don’t know that’s a power play?”

“But you’re so pretty, and you’re always confident. Nothing hurts you.”

I try not to get caught up on the fact my boss picks on me simply because she thinks I’m prettier than her. “Loads of shit hurts me.” Like the guy whose call cut out – or more accurately, he hung up on me. “I have a nice ass. I like my ass. So I dress my ass up and show it off to gain self-confidence. But I have massive ears.”

“You do not.”

“I do! It’s like Dumbo and Dopey had a one night stand that went wrong. But instead of letting my insecurities hurt me, I cut my hair in such a way that minimizes the floppy ear look, then I wear jeans that accentuate what Idolike. I don’t focus so much on the things I don’t like that I become a bitter bitch intent on tearing everyone down.”

“I don’t have a nice ass.” Her voice wobbles pathetically. “And my ears are unremarkable.”

“But your tits, Mia. I’ve wanted your tits since the day I met you.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m actually not! I love your tits, and if I ever decided to buy some, I’d take you with me as model so I can copy. So instead of thinking of your ass and single status – and by the way, I’m single too! – focus on your tits. Dress those puppies up, smile once in a friggin while, and watch the guys buy you drinks.” I cast my arm toward the horde of drunk women that watch us. “Everyone is insecure about something. Every. Single. Person.”

With a trembling jaw, she looks past my shoulder and stops on a beautiful woman with chestnut hair. Mini dress showing off amazing thighs, tight top that shows off perfect breasts. “There’s literally nothing wrong with her. Look at her.”

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