“Isn't it weird that a few months back I didn't know anybody we worked with and now they want to go out for goodbye drinks?” Evie ponders out loud. We're both in her bathroom sharing the mirror like two teenagers getting ready to go out on a Friday night. I watch her apply her mascara and am impressed by her sense of self-awareness.

“I think it’s nice they took notice of the change, and even sweeter they’ll miss you.”

“Won’t you miss me?” she teases.

“It’s hard to miss you when we see each other almost every day.” I rummage through my makeup bag and pull out my black eyeliner pencil. “Plus, I’ve been taking applications on who will fill your spot and become my new BFF when you’re gone.”

“Oh yeah, and who’s in the running?”

“I think it’s between Fred the Fashionista or Tardy Tina.” I move closer to the mirror, essentially pushing Evie out of the way. When I’m comfortable, I begin gliding my eyeliner on the outside of my eyelids.

“It’s definitely got to be Freddy because I can’t wait for the day he tries to dress you up in matching outfits and you look like Justin and Britney in all denim.” Fashionista Freddy really is all about fashion. He works with us in retail for extra cash while he uses his trust fund money to set up his fashion business on the side. Every day he comes to work dressed like he’s working for Dior as opposed to the unisex version of Brooks Brothers. Whenever we aren’t busy, he runs around the shop trying to get any of us to try on his latest designs. Most of the time, it’s a childish game of cat and mouse around the shop filled with bribes of food and alcohol in order to get us to comply.

“Are you nervous about your new job?” I ask, steering myself away from the thoughts of work without Evie.

“Scared shitless,” she blurts out. I turn to her with a look of shock evident on my face.

“What? Why? You’ll be great,” I say with confidence. If there’s anyone that can use their own personal experience to help others, it would be her. “You're not just working there because it's something that’s touched your life. You're also a trained professional so don't underestimate your skills okay? Plus if it's not for you, you know me and Freddy will be waiting in denim to dress you up.”

She laughs, letting her worry hide beneath the surface. A knock on the door interrupts our conversation and Lior’s voice filters through the bathroom.

“How long you guys going to be? I'm supposed to be meeting Elliot and Ben in an hour, and I don't want to be late.” Lior is dropping us off at Transcend for dinner. It’s a beautiful restaurant, which later switches into a gorgeous open rooftop bar, overlooking the city light.

“We’ll be another ten minutes,” she answers.

I finish off my look with my favorite Kat Von D Lipstick. The deep burgundy goes well with my fair skin and smoky eyes. The contrast of color; dark lips, dark eyes, pale skin, blonde hair, makes my green eyes pop. There’s something about dressing up that makes me feel sexy and liberated. I don’t do it enough, and tonight is a reminder that I should.

I went through my usual ritual with Mom before I came over, and made sure she had dinner, water, as well as my cell number in case she wanted to call. She won’t eat, but she will leave the house and replenish her stash of alcohol. It’s the only time she makes the effort to step into reality, which is a contradiction all in itself. She wades in, just to fade out. I refuse to buy it for her or even keep it in the house. But, most nights I come home and she’s drunk and empty bottles are all over the place. I’ve searched high and low for her hiding place, and I can’t find it. The only logical explanation is she drinks what she buys, knowing full well if I see it, I’ll bin it.

Alcohol and I now have a love-hate relationship, I never had an issue with drinking. I would go out with friends in college and get drunk just like the rest of them, but now I consciously make the effort to only drink if I’m in a good mood. The logic behind it is stupid, but if I'm not using it as an escape then it's not a problem, right? I don’t blame it for all our problems, and in no way will me avoiding it change what’s going on at home, but in the back of my mind, it makes me feel less hypocritical about my own coping mechanisms. Hers might be alcohol, but there's no denying mine is sex.

When I was growing up, I had a friend in high school who’s dad was, what she said, very dependant on alcohol, and I remember her saying how he refused to get help because he believed if he didn’t beat up his family, and he wasn’t unreasonable and aggressive, it meant he wasn’t an alcoholic. His type was known as a high functioning alcoholic, it’s the best way I can explain and come to terms with the different types of addictions there are. You see, while I’m well aware having sex to forget isn’t healthy, I’m still here, I’m present, and I’m very much in this life. Whereas Mom isn’t here and hasn’t been since Renee died. She’s barely lucid, and when she is, it’s to connect with memories that haunt and hurt. That’s the short-term satisfaction with alcohol and sex, they don’t take the pain away, but they sure as hell make it easy to forget.

* * *

We’ve been sitting around this table for two hours, and the restaurant is beginning to transform around us. Tables are getting moved, the DJ is setting up, and the lights are dimming, with the intention of changing up the mood.

“You guys going to stay and dance the night away with Fashion and I?” Tina asks.

“Fashion is actually leaving now ladies. I’ve been requested for a booty call that only an idiot would pass up,” he divulges.

“Well Tina, I think we might end up being the last ones standing.” I look over to Evie, while I sip on my third Mojito. She’s tapping away on her phone, and I know she’s itching to be home with Lior. “Hey, lover girl? Loverboy struggling without you?”

She lifts her head up, and there’s a smile a mile long painted across her face. Her cheeks are flushed and I can anticipate the words even before she says them.

“Do you mind if Lior picks me up? I’ll stay if you want me to.”

“He’s laying the sex talk on thick, isn’t he? Plays a good game of sexting?” I tease. Her head drops in embarrassment, but I can still see her smiling.

“It’s all good, Tina and I have a good buzz going. We’re going to stay and dance the night away. Aren’t we Tina?”

“Of course.” The music is only getting louder, and the club-like atmosphere is definitely in full swing. Tina stands up and walks toward me doing this awkward hip thrust, type of dance move, it has me bursting into hysterical laughter. “Evie, you don’t really want to miss that, do you?”

Evie stands up and puts her hand out for me to grab, “He won’t be here for at least another hour, so let’s go to the bar and maybe it will be enough time to teach Tina some new moves.”

“Do you know how many guys dig this?” she retorts.

“Find me one guy and I’ll buy you drinks all night long,” I challenge.

“Bitch, you’re on.” Evie and I laugh wholeheartedly while she starts shuffling backward to the music. It’s in this moment we both instantly fall in love with Tardy Tina and her carefree ways.

The three of us are swaying to the music, squealing like teenagers with the selection of songs being thrown our way. A mixture of old school hip-hop, and trashy pop music makes the perfect combination for a great night out. The dance floor fills up quickly, and the dinner crowd is replaced with women and men determined to start the weekend right. With the beat thumping through my chest, and the alcohol flowing through my veins, I’m feeling lighter than I have in months; this is exactly what I needed.  

It isn’t long before Evie looks down on her phone and tells us it’s time to go. She throws herself at me for a hug, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.

“Thank you for tonight,” she screams in my ear, overcompensating for the loud music. I squeeze her tighter. “You’re welcome. Are you going to be okay to meet Lior on your own?” I ask her. It’s not often I see Evie drunk and carefree, I want to make sure she’s safe.

“Yeah, he’s waiting at the entrance, I’ll be good.” We hug again before she kisses Tina goodbye and excitedly meets her man.

As soon as Evie leaves, we decide it’s a great time for a dancing break. We make our way to the edge of the rooftop and look over the balcony. The breeze and the view of the city lights are enough to stun anyone into silence. I hear the flick of a lighter, and turn to see Tina lighting up a cigarette. Her cheeks hollow in, and the smell of the smoke takes me back to a time when life was simple and less complex.

“Only when I’m drinking,” she explains. She holds out the packet toward me and I reach for my own. “Me too.”

We’re both indulging in the quiet when I feel a presence directly behind me. Tina is the first to turn her head to the side. “Can we help you?” she asks with a side of sass.

“I’m just here to see Court.” The sound of his voice sends a shiver of heat down my spine, somehow my ears can hear him perfectly, regardless of the music blaring all around us. I can’t seem to remember the moment he and I changed. The moment my escape turned into my newest nightmare, and everything light and fun turned into hot and heavy. Her eyes dart between us before settling on me, with a look of concern. I give her a slight nod letting her know it’s all good.

“I’m going to be at the bar getting drinks if anyone needs me,” she says. Looking directly at Elliot she threatens, “Hopefully nobody needs me.”

I smile at her protectiveness, as she walks away, but my smile is replaced by a stare down as the air around us gets thicker. There isn’t much space between us, but he insists on moving closer. Soon enough we’re standing toe to toe. The iron-wrought railing is pressing into my back, as I desperately try to seek out some space.

I feel his fingers circle my wrist as he raises my hand that holds the cigarette. He reaches for it before effortlessly slipping it between his own lips.  

My mouth goes dry at the sight of him with a cigarette, I’ve always been turned on by the way a man looks while smoking. I want to ask him what he’s doing here, but it’s like my mind knows that nothing I say right now will diminish the connection between us. He’s a man on a mission, and I am his target.

He takes one last, long drag and blows the smoke out in my direction, he leans over and my heart skips a beat. His mouth is a breath away from my ears, and his fingers run down the length of my arm leaving goosebumps in their wake. He links his hand with mine, holding with such familiarity.

“Dance with me,” he orders.

His cologne, mixed with the alcohol and the exhilarating rush of the smoke, has me weak. My resolve is breaking and every rule, every excuse and every reason I’ve been avoiding him fades. Because tonight, I’m flying high and feeling free. Tonight, whatever he wants, I’ll do.