2

SETUPS

Becca

Fifteen Years Later

Having to listen to Henry talk about her boyfriend, Dick Dongy, with a straight face was hard at first. But now it seemed like second nature. Hendrix Lemon was a bartender/waitress with me at Meme’s. It was a bar loosely themed around funny memes from the Internet. Mostly the decorating consisted of print outs of said memes taped to the walls of the interior. And of course, the female employees had to be scantily dressed.

Henry had met her man and he’d locked that shit down. Not that I blamed him. Henry’s body was insane and her hair and lips—well, she was a draw to the bar. That was for sure.

Henry lived with Dick now, and I’d lost my partner in all kinds of man-hunting crimes.

“So, Dick said that we were going to do some renovations to the roadkill hospital this weekend, so I’m going to have to cancel our girls’ pampering day.”

Henry got to be dressed as herself at work, which was a cop-out because she’d become a viral Internet meme last year. I still had to fulfill the owner’s fetish for Bubble Gum Girl, which was the most obscure meme ever. I wore pigtails and a pink bra. My hot pants were white and silver and my high heels were a sexy variation of combat boots. I had to spray myself with a bubble gum scented perfume every hour or so. High heels and bartending/waitressing was the worst part of all. Well, and all the different ways drunk guys found to run their hands along my bare skin.

I wiped down my last table before we opened and pouted at Henry. She was a serious downer.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, and soon.” Henry held out her arms for a hug and ended the affection with a loud slap on my ass. “Keep it tight, Becs.”

I used my towel as a weapon and twirled it into a rope and snapped it against the back pocket of her jeans. After she skip-hopped away, I knew I made decent contact.

Henry was working behind the bar tonight. I was jealous, because back there I could put on a pair of Crocs that were a whole lot nicer to my feet than the heeled combat boots.

“You got a text from your mom!” Henry held up my phone.

“What’s it say?” I hollered over my shoulder as I went to unlock the front door.

“Oh shit.”

I switched on the neon sign to light up the word “OPEN” before turning to see what Henry was cursing about.

“Your mom is setting you up again.”

“Oh shit,” I echoed my friend. “When?”

Henry grimaced. “He’s coming here tonight.”

I shook my head. Henry shook her head. We’d been through this before.

I crossed over to the bar and hopped onto a stool. Henry handed me my phone.

I scrolled through the fifteen texts labeled Mother Monster. She’d found another guy for me, which was no surprise. Finding me a husband to take care of all my needs was her only focus in life.

I knew it came from love. Somewhere, deep down, my mother was just trying to make sure I had a perfect life. It was her very own perception of a perfect life, of course.

I exhaled and felt my shoulders drop my posture low.

In my head I heard Mom telling me to sit up straight and stick out my boobs. Because men liked boobs. And boobs got you a great husband.

I hunched my shoulders even more.

Mom had met a guy at the place where she gets the oil changed in her BMW and sent him here to me tonight.

Some mothers wouldn’t want their daughters in the getup I was currently rocking in public, ever. For my mom, she saw it as husband bait. The sexier, the better.

Because snagging a husband was the most important thing in a girl’s life. It didn’t matter if he cheated on you. If he ignored you. If he had entire contact lists of Internet sex friends. As long as he was your husband, you were winning life.

Henry put her hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know you hate this.”

I slid my phone over the bar. Henry would stash it with our purses. I had no pockets, and the boss frowned on phone use during working hours.

“Oh, wait. There’s one more. It’s a picture. Damn.” Henry lifted an eyebrow and tapped the screen with her fingernail.

The picture was clearly a screenshot of a social media profile. Alton Dragsmith was very handsome. He was cuddling a baby deer, so that was it for Henry. She was a sucker for any kind of cute, fuzzy baby.

He had a strong jaw and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing a bandana like a hiker that was hiking who loved to hike (clearly). The background clearly looked like he was on the top of a mountain.

“Alton’s a hottie.” Henry shrugged like she was apologizing for noticing the obvious.

I gave my phone back to her. “Looks can be deceiving. I mean, you’re boning the town serial killer on the regular.” I winked as she snorted.

Dick Dongy had a reputation before Henry had claimed him as hers. He was misunderstood back then. I still liked to tease her from time to time. Dick taught us to look a little deeper before passing judgment on a person.

“Yeah. But what if maybe this guy isn’t the worst?”

I wrinkled my nose at her and twirled off the stool as the front door opened. My mother had an uncanny ability of finding the weirdest, craziest guys in town and arranging for me to meet them.

I got menus for my first round of customers. They ordered drinks, and I marched the requests to Henry.

She continued the conversation like it had never stopped.

“So, maybe this guy is different.”

I tapped my fingers on the shiny wood as I waited for the orders to put on my tray.

“I just don’t want regular. You know? I want to feel love hard in my chest.” The ice rattled in the glass as I balanced the rum and Coke on the tray.

“And your vagina.” Henry shook her boobs at me. I shook mine back without spilling a drop from the drinks.

“That’s some next level waitress slutting you can do there.” Henry placed the last drink onto my tray for me.

“I got skills you don’t even know about.” I walked the drinks to my table, and by then they had decided on the appetizers. I had just finished taking the order when the front door opened. Alton Dragsmith walked into Meme’s and scanned the bar. Then he found me. His smile was sparkling and he even had a dimple. He was wonderfully handsome, but I felt nothing. Not a single thing except dread. The cycle was about to repeat again. Mother Monster would push and pry. I would do my best but still disappoint her and fail to nab a husband with a happily ever after.