Lying Season

We took a cab to the venue, since Jenn planned to get quite drunk. Those were her actual words on the elevator down: “I hope you know I’m going to get quite drunk, Perry.”



That was fine with me. I was curious to see how drunk Jenn would compare to sober Jenn. Maybe she was less bitchy, less selfish and more vulnerable.



Well, 20 minutes into our arrival at the douchiest nightclub in the Pacific Northwest, I found out that drunk Jenn was the same as sober Jenn. Just…amplified.



“I need another drink,” she said, trying to wave down the bartender who was doing quite a good job of ignoring us the whole time. The music was on a continuous suck cycle except for the occasional addition of Kylie Minogue or Lady Gaga. We were occasionally getting sized up by guys but neither of us had been hit on at this point.



I wasn’t surprised by this when it came to myself (I definitely wasn’t slutty enough) but I thought Jenn would have been approached at least a few times already. She was a Wine Babe after all, and she did get recognized quite often. Here, though, that wasn’t the case. And the drunker she got, the more she picked up on it.



“You’re so lucky, Perry,” she said, bringing my head out of another worrying daydream about Dex.



I frowned at her. “How do you mean?”



“Well look at you,” she said while chewing on her straw and waving at me up and down. “You could become as thin as I am and you’d still have boobs.”



Was that a compliment or…



“OK,” I said. I raised my glass to my mouth and shot the rest of the drink back in one go.



“No, I mean it,” she said, slapping me lightly on my arm. I raised my brow at her, feeling the tiniest bit of instinct to fight her. Which was not usual, I swear.



“Sure you could stand to lose a few pounds but your boobs are huge so even if you got skinny, you’d still have them. When I lose weight, mine are the first to go.”



She stood there, poking at her boobs through her top. I bit my lip and clenched my fist around my drink, trying to push down the angry swell that I felt rising through me.



“Well, just be glad I am the way I am,” I managed to answer. “Otherwise, I’d be taking over your job. And that would just be the beginning.”



And I smiled at her, big and bright.



Jenn looked shocked. Then she laughed, nervously at first, then just drunk and stupid. “You’re pretty funny, Perry. I can see why Dex likes you. He likes to laugh at things.”



My smile tightened. My grip froze. There were so many things I wanted to say, but Jenn’s head flew around in a whirlwind when the next song came on. It was actually a dance song I didn’t mind, LCD Soundsystem’s “North American Scum.”



She grabbed my arm and said, “Oh we must dance to this.”



Oh crap. I put my empty drink on the bar and let her lead me to the floor.



I’m not a good dancer. I know this. I like to either groove slowly or just go all out. I only did the latter with people I knew and trusted. In this case, I was doing the slow, timid white girl bump and grind. But Jenn, she was going all out. First she started by rubbing up all over me like I was the dude, then she started making eyes at me. It was fucking weird, like a total nightmare. I’m not kidding. If I foresaw this scene a month ago, I would have shit myself.



Of course it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t about having fun with me or making me feel comfortable. It was about teasing the men who were watching, making us look like we were about to make out. No wonder Rebecca hated her so much.



Jenn continued to do this for the entire song (let’s add “North American Scum” to “Maxwell Silver Hammer” in the “songs I used to like until Dex and Jenn ruined them for me” pile) but after not being approached by any guys, she slinked off the dance floor, all downtrodden. She took me by the hand and back to the bar, where she tried to get the bartenders attention again.



“I don’t get it,” she said, looking absolutely defeated. Her eyes were welling up with tears. It scared me. It meant I was going to have to make her feel better and I did not want to do that. She did not deserve it.



“It’s cuz I’m old,” she sniffed and delicately rubbed the corners of her exotic eyes.



“Um, you’re thirty one Jenn. That’s nothing.”



“Easy for you to say. You’re twenty two...”



“Twenty three, actually.”



“Whatever,” she said and took a bar napkin to her nose. “You’re like almost ten years younger than me. You have your whole future ahead of you. All this promise and possibility. What do I have? Nothing. Just a few more years and everyone will move onto someone younger.”



She sniffled again. With her curly, sienna hair falling across her face, she looked younger than her age. Her attitude helped bring her down a few pegs too. She was a gorgeous, stunning girl. At least, she was to anyone who didn’t know her. She probably wasn’t getting approached or hit on because she seemed either too desperate or the opposite, too secure. And the fact was, she had a boyfriend. And he was at home, in their room, scared to death and feeling alone. And she was here, with me, complaining about how unattractive she was. I was torn between feeling sorry for her and sympathizing with her, and wanting to punch her lights out for being a stupid, selfish bitch.



Of course, I didn’t punch her lights out. I sucked in my pride. “Look, I’ll buy you a drink.”



I waved at the bartender and for some reason, I was able to get his attention and not her. I ordered us both shots of Jaeger and more vodka sevens.



When the shots came and Jenn gave the bartender the bitchiest look, I raised my glass to her, trying to find hidden reserves of strength deep inside myself. I was cheering my enemy in an attempt to make her feel better. What was wrong with me?



Jenn clinked the shot glass, smiled and downed it. Half of it almost came back up again, but she buried that with the seven. Then her phone beeped.



She fished it out of her bag excitedly. My first thought was that it was Dex, but judging from the subtle way she grinned to herself, I knew it wasn’t.



I watched her text back and then put the phone away. She kept smiling and noticed me watching her.



“Oh, that was Bradley,” she said. Uh huh. That figured.



“Yeah?”



“He was in the area and he’s going to stop by.”



I remembered what Rebecca said. They were a pair of fucks. She had a theory. Suddenly, I had that same theory.



“So I finally get to meet this Bradley?” I asked, wondering how to phrase my next sentence. “Wasn’t he the guy Rebecca wanted to set me up with?”



“You don’t get everyone,” Jenn sneered, slamming her drink hard on the counter. It made me jump. It made the people next to us jump. The Latino in Jenn was coming out.



I raised my hands in surrender. “I never said I wanted Bradley. I’ve got a boyfriend back in Portland anyway.”



“Oh?” She seemed floored. “You do? Oh. Well…who is he? Dex never mentioned him.”



“His name is Brock. I just started dating him. I don’t tell Dex everything,” I lied.



She nodded quickly, composing herself. The look of relief flooded across her brow. And for the next bit, Jenn was a lot more relaxed with me. Drunk, but the competition mode was turned off, at least a smidge.



Soon, Bradley showed up. Actually, it was really soon. As if he was in the same club with us this whole time.



“Perry, this is Bradley,” Jenn said as a tall, strikingly handsome man gave her a quick hug and turned his sights on me.



He was tall and well built, in a dapper shirt. Longish light brown hair, a stylish five o’clock shadow, sparkling blue eyes and one hell of a devilish grin.



I shook his outstretched hand. He smiled, perfect teeth that matched Jenn’s in the veneer category, and cocked his head to the side. “So you’re the girl…”



“I’m the girl?”



“Yes. The girl who somehow tore Mr. Foray from the Wine Babes. I’m surprised.”



How amusing. “Oh yeah, how is that?”



“You’re taller than I thought.”



“I’m wearing really high heels,” I answered. “Was that it?”



My voice was totally accusatory. I was sure my face was as well. I didn’t have to listen to Bradley any more to know Rebecca’s assertion was correct.



“Nice to meet you, Perry,” Bradley said, and then pointed upstairs. He turned to Jenn. “Jenn, there’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”



He looked at me quickly, all false charm. “Perry, you don’t mind. I’ll return her soon. I’m sure you won’t be here alone for long.”



Before I could open my mouth to say anything, Jenn and Bradley walked off across the club, toward the stairs. I watched them like a hawk the whole time. Just as they were about to disappear from view, I saw him put his arm around Jenn’s waist.



I was so angry. Not only was I just ditched in some shitty-assed night club, but it was quite obvious that Jenn and Bradley were having an affair, or something close to it. I felt the frustration fill up my veins and turned my attention to the bar. Once again, I got the bartender’s attention pretty quickly, which was a needed ego boost, especially after all of Jenn’s comments. I ordered a glass of Jack on the rocks in honor of Dex and sipped it slowly. I gave Jenn and Bradley as long as the drink. If they didn’t return by the time I was done, I was leaving.



It took me twenty minutes to drink it. It was the longest- lasting drink of my life. Then I texted Jenn and told her that I was thinking about heading back to the apartment. I waited for a response to that but after ten minutes, there was nothing.



Fuck that.



I marched out of the club, ignoring the gross leers of the grody men in there, and got the first cab that was waiting outside. It took me straight to Dex’s apartment.



In the meantime, I got a text from Jenn that said, “Oh, you are? We’re just upstairs with friends, are you sure you don’t want to wait around?” Again, fuck that.



I got out of the cab and, after tipping the cabbie too much, I looked up at the apartment. Dex was standing on the balcony, looking down at me with a feeling of shock. He was smoking, a cloud of it surrounding his head despite the slight breeze.



“Perry?” he said, sounding scared. “Is Jenn with you?”



I turned and watched the cab drive away. “Obviously not. Can you let me in?”



He nodded and put the smoke out on an ashtray. I went to the door and was buzzed in.



He answered their door in plaid pajama pants and a grey T-shirt. His eyes were red and he reeked of pot. He stuck his head out into the hallway, looking all paranoid.



“I’m not with Jenn,” I told him again, and pushed past him into the apartment. I leaned against the kitchen counter and kicked my wretched shoes off. They hurt like hell and almost fell off a bunch of times while dancing.



“What happened? Why are you home so soon?” he asked, sounding panicky.



I leaned against the counter and put my head down on it.



“I don’t know. Clubbing sucks,” I mumbled. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to tell Dex what I thought about Jenn and Bradley, or at least to mention he was there on our “girls” night and that they ditched me. But the other part felt that if I did that, she would deny it and I would look like his psycho jealous partner.