“I’ve never had a ladies night.”
Della stares at me in part shock, and part pity.
After getting a manicure and pedicure with Della and her mom, Cathy, we had a late lunch where I avoided the topic of my dad’s cancer.
Della politely accepted I did not want to speak about it in front of Brielle. Other than talking about his illness with Luke, I did not want to discuss it with anyone, honestly. My emotions were all over the road, and I didn’t need others witnessing how susceptible I am to vulnerableness.
Just before we left the restaurant Cathy asked if there were any plans for a bachelorette party tonight. Which in turn made me feel like the worst maid of honor of all time, because there were none.
Not that I didn’t try previously. Della claimed she was good with a night in, and I pushed for more, but she made it seem like having a bachelorette party wasn’t necessary to her. Then Cathy brought it up, not to mention Luke told me earlier the guys were taking Paul out tonight, so I insisted Della call up some of her other friends.
Having a sitter for Brielle and going out with the girls was so far beyond my boring routine I’m not even sure how to create a fun and wild night. But it’s Della’s last night of singledom, and where I lack, I’m hoping her other girlfriends will assist.
Cathy offered to keep Brielle and Ethan overnight. That had me slightly nervous since the only other time she attempted a sleepover I had to go pick her up in the middle of the night. And this will be the first time I’ve ever had a whole night without her. But she would be in capable hands with Cathy. That woman practically raised me as her own.
With the kids dropped off, and the men at Luke’s house, Della and I had her mansion to ourselves. We weren’t leaving for another couple of hours, and the only place to go out for a good time in Calusa was to go out of Calusa.
We might as well have been living in a Footloose kind of town. When we were younger all of us kids snuck off to the fields to party. There was one bar, and the only kind of music they knew how to play came out of the fifty year old juke box, or Mrs. Mertle who had one country top charts single in the early nineties and played at the bar every weekend.
“I really wish you lived closer,” Della mumbles. “A mom needs her night out with the girls every once in awhile.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But tonight is not for us mommies.” I place my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. “It’s all about you, Bride-to-be.” Her face lights up. I turn around and reach into the bag behind me. “Okay! I have some crafting to do, so you get in the shower and I’ll work on my secret project.”
Della’s tries to peek over my shoulder, but I push her away.
After dropping the kids off at Cathy’s I ran to Walmart, the only store within miles that had any sort of bridal-ish items. With Paul spending the night at Luke’s tonight, the “not seeing the bride before the wedding” was about the only traditional detail they were doing.
“Hey,” Della calls out halfway up the stairs, pausing to lean over the banister. “What are you wearing tonight?”
I shrug and look down at the outfit I’m wearing now. “I’ll change my shirt, but probably these jeans. I didn’t bring any going out clothes on the count of I don’t have any.”
Della scrunches her face. “We’ll look through my closet. Bachelorette or moms night out, the point is to not look like a mom.”
Everyone wears jeans around here. Not just moms. And this is the south. We were practically born in denim.
Just thinking about wearing anything from Della’s wardrobe has me praying to the party gods we start drinking beforehand. I’ve seen her workout clothes that she wears for everything but working out.
I pull out the plastic tiara I found in the kids toys section and set it aside. The Walmart in town actually had a decent crafting section. I bought a cheap hot glue gun, and a strip of white tulle fabric that I planned on attaching to the tiara to look like a veil. There was an aisle for wedding decor where I found a Bride-to-be sash, but the tiaras were too basic and not flashy enough for a Della-kind-of-bachelorette.
The fabric was precut and took no time at all to glue it onto the tiara. It was cheap looking and had me disappointed I hadn’t prepared better, but overall it would do for one night of fun.
I cleaned up, picking out all those pesky strings of glue that drapes everywhere when using a hot glue gun, and set her sash and tiara aside.
Della called up a couple friends from work, and one other girl in town we went to high school with. We were going to pick up Chloe on the way, and since Port Charlotte is the closest town with any acceptable night life, the other two girls were meeting us there.
Heading up the stairs to Della’s room, my mind wondered back to Luke. After we left my dad’s house he went back to work. I wanted to talk to him badly. About a lot of things. I’ll see him at the wedding tomorrow, but there will be too many eyes and ears around. Who knows when we’ll get alone time again. My body was pumping with adrenaline and excitement for tonight’s adventures, but also because of our near kiss today. Again. I’m all for a good slow burn but I’m not a saint. I’m feeling antsy and on a crazy sex high and we haven’t even had sex!
I make myself at home in Della’s master bedroom like were teenagers again. She comes out in a towel with wet hair and flawless skin while I browse her closet and the vast array of clothes. It’s not just the clothing that has my jaw on the floor, though. She actually has an entire wall in her closest for just shoes. Not hers and Paul’s, just hers alone.
“I have a couple dresses that are too short on me and would probably hit at the right length on you.”
Della is a good four inches taller than me. I’m fine wearing the same skinny jeans I have on now, and picking a blouse from her collection.
“Are you wearing a dress?” I pick up one of her heels to check and make sure we’re still the same shoe size. It’s doubtful most of her clothes will fit me properly with the height difference, and let’s face it, our body shape is not like the old days before we had kids.
“It just so happens that I have a sexy little white dress.” Della drops her towel with no shame, and shimmies over to a medium height drawer to pick out her underwear.
“So you’ll wear white for the bachelorette party but not your wedding day.” I laugh at her.
“Shut up. Go get a shower. I’ll find something for you to wear.”
“Just a shirt. I’m wearing my jeans. And probably a pair of your shoes, too,” I call over my shoulder as I leave her behind in a closet the size of my own bedroom.
I take a quick shower in the guest bathroom. Thankfully, I washed my hair last night and styled it this morning so no need to do it all again. Della’s cousin will be here in the morning to curl it all into an up-do and weigh me down with entire cans of hairspray for the the wedding day.
I cross the hall to her room afterward, wrapped in my robe. The droning sound of a hair dryer reaches my ears when I step over the threshold.
Della sits at the vanity in her bathroom in only a bra and panties.
I see right away how pointless it was to bring my small makeup bag with me. Her vanity is set up with a giant, multi-drawer cosmetic station.
Once she done with her hair, Della beams at me through the mirror in front of her.
“I found the perfect skirt for you!”
“That’s nice. I’m going to wear jeans, though.”
“Oh no no no.” She emphatically shakes her head, and stands. I follow behind as she walks out of the bathroom and into her massive closet. “This is a monumental night for you too. It’s a night where you get to be all woman. Let loose to drink and dance and maybe get laid.”
My response is to laugh uncontrollably at that unlikeliness.
Della crosses her arms, pushing her boobs up even higher. “I refuse to let you walk out that door in anything other than something that makes for easy access to you know what.”
“What exactly are you planning for us to do tonight?” I ask, eyes popping wide open. “And why the hell would I need easy access?”
Della winks at me.
“Dells, I’m open to drink and dance. But my who-ha will not be open for anything.”
“Not even a certain brown-eyed friend we have in common?”
I purse my lips.
“I know he went to you when you called from your dad’s house today.”
“You talked to Luke already?” I don’t know why that bothers me, but it did. Luke is the only person I feel comfortable with talking to about my dad, and I’m a little hurt that he would immediately discuss my business with someone else right after we parted ways.
“No, Paul saw him leave.”
“Oh.”
“You two are confusing. Haven’t talked in months for some reason, and then he’s dropping everything and running to your aid.”
“Don’t make me sound like a damsel, please.”
“Well, Luke has a hero complex. So you better get used to it.” She shrugs, then reaches for two items hanging on the rack behind her. When Della turns around to me she’s holding a long sleeve, black studded shirt up against a short black leather skirt. “I bought the skirt awhile back online and meant to return it. When I tried it on it was way too short.”
“Something was too short for you?” I smirk.
“You could see my crotch. Paul wasn’t impressed.” She matches my grin. “Anyway, guess I forgot about it, because I found it while looking through my other skirts. It is going to be perfect on you. Try it on.”
I roll my eyes and take the clothes from her outstretched hand.
“There is no way this is going fit, you giant. Even if it wasn’t crotch worthy for you.”
She laughs, grabs a pair of black strappy sandals off the shelf and then hands them to me.
When I put on the long sleeve top I notice it has no back.
“How am I supposed to wear a bra with this?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder at the long body mirror.
“You’re not.”
“Great,” I reply with sarcasm.
I take my bra off then put the shirt back on. Della slips into a skin-tight white dress. Of course she looks fantastic and at ease wearing a dress like it’s any other night. Me, on the other hand, is relentlessly tugging the leather skirt up my legs only to realize after the fact that it has a zipper. I fail at being sexy.
“Hot.” Della nods her approval.
From the front I look elegant with a straight neckline that lay along my collarbone and curves over my shoulders. The material is a smooth rayon with shiny black square studs spread throughout every inch. I twist to see the back and can’t help but admire the curve that leaves my entire back nearly exposed. The skirt itself is a stunner without explanation. The leather hugs my curves and ends about mid-thigh, accentuating my legs to appear longer than I knew them to be. The skirt definitely wasn’t crotch revealing short, nor anywhere close to the ones I wear for work.
“Damn I’m good,” Della claps.
“You look beautiful, Della.” The bright, stark white spandex sets off her copper hair.
“Thanks, sweetie.” Della’s gaze drifts away, getting lost in happy thoughts. “I can’t believe I’m getting married tomorrow. I love that man so much.”
It is an amazing sight to witness so much love on someone’s face. A look every dreamer hopes they are lucky enough to find. If love could be a tangible desire, it would be bottled and sold, but a good, strong love is fought and won. Della and Paul worked for their happiness. I rather keep dreaming for the real thing, what I see in Della’s eyes right now, than to fall fast and without effort.
“Paul is a very lucky man.”
Paul’s ears must have been burning because Della’s phone starts ringing at that moment. Giving the bride and groom privacy, I head into the bathroom to start my makeup, leaving the eyes primed and ready for Della’s professional touch.
An hour later we’re getting into an Uber I ordered. Before our driver arrived Della pulled out a large glass bottle of tequila her and Paul brought back from Mexico a couple years ago. We took two shots each. I was going to be so screwed up early on. And I really didn’t need to be because someone had to be in charge of Della’s behavior.
We picked up Chloe, who I haven’t seen since leaving town six years ago. We were closer acquainted in high school, but once we graduated I never saw her around as much. She was the kind of girl back then who stayed to herself, very shy, but always really sweet. And she hasn’t changed.
From the moment Chloe sat with us in the back seat she’s barely said three words. With fair skin and light brown hair, she looks the same as I remember.
“See, Dells. Chloe is wearing jeans.”
“That because Chloe didn’t have me around to dress her, or I would have put her in a dress too.”
Chloe blanches at the thought.
“You’re lucky,” I say to Chloe, leaning over Della. “You’re closer to her height than I am, so your vagina would have probably been exposed.”
She clears her throat, but it quickly turns in to choking.
“Way to go, Liv.” Della smacks Chloe on the back. “Scare the innocent one, why don’t you.”
I meet the driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror after they dipped as low as they could to try to catch a peek at Della’s potential exposed crotch. He snaps his gaze back to the pitch black roads.
“You ladies live in the middle of nowhere, you know that?” he comments.
“Yeah,” we all three say in unison.
“So, Chloe, how have you been? How’s your mom?” I ask.
Her mom was a little nutty when we were younger, but well respected. She raised Chloe on her own after her dad killed himself. Before we picked her up, Della told me Chloe’s mom was diagnosed with an inoperable tumor, likely the cause of her irrational behavior.
“Mom’s good. Not much can be done, so she still acts odd.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I reply.
“I never believed Brady, by the way.”
“Oh.” I nod, caught off guard with my small buzz distracting me.
“Luke made sure everyone knew the truth. He may be his brother, but he always had your back.”
Della makes a weird noise, like she’s trying to clear her throat and cough up a frog at the same time.
“Sorry,” Chloe winces. “You probably don’t want to talk about Brady, huh?”
“It’s okay. At least you are confronting me unlike everyone else who just stares and gossips.”
“They feed off gossip more than the truth,” she says with a sad smile. “I would know that better than anyone.”
After that dampened discussion, we ride the rest of the way to the bar in an awkward silence.
When our young driver drops us off in the front, he informed us he would be working all night and could request him to pick us back up when we are ready to go home.
Music poured out of the open door at the entrance of the building. The place was loud, packed, and smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. The hostess said to take a seat anywhere we like, and a live band was scheduled to perform in thirty minutes.
Della wore her sash and tiara, and gained attention from the other patrons like any typical bachelorette would.
We chose this swanky bar based off Luke and Paul’s insistence. They’ve been here a few times and asserted our safety mattered the most since they wouldn’t be around.
The place was definitely rowdy. Music blasted from the corner where a small DJ station was situated. In the same area was a dance floor and a short stage where the band was beginning to set up. The bar ran along the opposite side. Three bartenders were behind the long stretch of a glossy counter, and a huge mural of stained glass displayed on the back wall where all the bottles of liquor was kept. That artwork is the focal point of the entire building. Their walls and furniture were blacks and grays of all shades, but the stained glass lit up the wall in a kaleidoscope of colors.
She spotted her two friends from work as they flagged us down from a high top table in the middle of the room. The bride to be introduced Karenna, a tall, curvy, and spirited woman a few years older than us. She’s the kind of person it’s impossible not to love right away. She had a bright personality and a loud laugh. Her black, tight ringlet curls bounced around her head with the slightest movement. Next to Karenna was Yvette, who was just as fun, but not nearly as loud. I wasn’t sure how the three of them got any work done during the daytime, because they were a riot.
Karenna had two kids, but Yvette was younger than all of us and still single. After introductions and talking about our children, we decided to get to partying. Della and Yvette went straight to the dance floor when the DJ started up a song they liked, and Karenna and I went to the bar, leaving Chloe to guard the table.
“Girl, you ain’t got no ring on that finger and with the way you’re looking…mm mm mmm, I want to see if we can get free drinks.”
“Then we should have brought the bride with us,” I laugh. “She’s wearing the getup that attracts the free drinks.”
“Damn. True.” She laughs boisterously as we squeeze through the heavy crowd.
There’s a small area in the middle of the bar with a few vacant seats. Right after we claim them one of the cute male bartenders leans toward us for our order. Karenna is loud enough where he doesn’t need to lean in to hear, so it’s obvious he’s doing it just to get a little closer. I order a round of shots and whatever five drinks he wants to surprise us with, telling him we have a bride-to-be in our group. That earned me a charming smolder before Nick (the bartender) turns away to mix them up.
“He must be in his early twenties, because grown ass men don’t smolder like that,” Karenna chuckles once he’s out of earshot. “But you are one hot, single mama so I bet you could bag ‘em.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “As much as I need a hot night of sex, he’s not my type.”
“Mmhmm. Because you already got your eye on someone?”
She grins cheekily like she knows something. Seems Della has been talking.
“Something like that,” is all I’m willing to admit to my new friend for now.
Funny how such a short amount of time with Karenna has already made her feel like a lasting friend to me, when back home I couldn’t find one to keep in contact with past a few hangouts.
Karenna leans in like she has a secret to tell. Turns out, it’s not.
“Luke is fine as hell. I’m not in to white boys, but if I were…girrrrrrl I would be all over that.” She finishes the last two words at an even higher pitch that jerks my attention.
“And then there’s your husband, of course,” I come back with.
“Yes, but I have been married so long it’s only natural to look at these young hotties popping up these days.”
“Oh, c’mon. You are not that old.”
“Ten years your senior.”
“Well you don’t look it.”
“I, thank you.” Karenna locks down her sharp eyes on me like a flash of lightning. “But seriously. You need to lock Luke down. I adore that boy, but he is way too charming for his own good.”
“As I’m sure you’re aware of, since Della clearly likes to talk too much, I don’t live near here.”
“Yeah, she’s got a big mouth, but I choose to only listen to the good things that come out of it.”
I lift a brow, catching on that there’s more to the story. Growing up, Della was always well liked. And if Karenna was here tonight, I assume that makes her a good friend to Della, but her tone on the last thing she said indicated otherwise.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Karenna raises her hands in defense. “Della’s a doll, but she can rub some folks the wrong way. Little miss high and mighty acts like a know-it-all, but I don’t let her get away with that shit with me.”
“Yeah,” I nod like I’m agreeing, but I’m actually taken aback by this news.
Oh I’ve definitely picked up on the snobbery Della can project toward others. That’s not what is surprising me. It’s like a puzzle. I’ve separated all the edges to put them together first, but one is missing. Sometimes you are looking so hard at the full picture that you can’t distinguish the details. Then you find the piece has been right in front of you the whole time.
Though Della and I are friends again, it’s not the same friendship as before. We used to be equals. And now I can’t help but to notice all the areas I will never be her equal in. The house, the vacations, the wardrobes. I’m happy she’s successful, and there is no jealousy on my part towards that, but I feel smaller whenever I’m around all the big things in her life.
“Alls I’m saying, don’t let Della get in your head.”
“If I’m with Luke, Della has no say,” I clarify.
“Good. I think she likes having those two men all to herself anyway.”
Well. Karenna is full of useful information, now isn’t she?
It wasn’t my place to keep this conversation going. Upon meeting her I really liked Karenna, what she’s said in this short time hasn’t wavered that, but Della is my friend first and despite some valid points, to continue on would be wrong and trashy.
The cute bartender lines up five shots, and tells us a server will bring our other drinks to the table. I feel his eyes linger to get my attention, but I avoid by grabbing three of the shot glasses and turning away with Karenna following behind.
We placed the shots on the table, the glass clinking and drawing Chloe’s docile attention.
“I have to drink one of those?” she asks with a hint of worry.
“These are to start the toast for Della.”
“Oh.”
“Chloe, you don’t have to drink anything if you don’t want.”
I didn’t want her to feel pressured in to drinking just because the rest of us were. Nothing was more annoying than a person trying to shove drinks down your throat when you didn’t want them to begin with. I knew that well. I had a daughter to get home to, one I didn’t want witnessing a tipsy parent. Ever. And on the few occasions I went for drinks after work with colleagues, they couldn’t understand why I would get pissy and leave before everyone else.
They also saw me as a brown-noser because the boss’s mother was babysitting my daughter.
“I’ll stick with water.”
Over my shoulder I catch Della standing out from all the other thrusting maniacs. Her veil flops up and down as she bounced in place to the music. I had a sudden itch to be out there with those maniacs.
When Della caught my stare in her direction, she reads my mind like every best friend can, and wiggles an enticing finger at me. I turn around, reach for Chloe’s neglected shot, and downed it in one gulp.
“Coming?” I asked the other girls.
Chloe shakes her head, not that I expected differently. Karenna looks beyond with skeptical scrutiny.
“Now I’ll play the age card. I’m too old to move like that.”
“Whatever.” I grin as I hop off my stool.
I cross the short distance and wiggle my way over to Della and Yvette. The liquor burns and tingles on the way down, spreading its liquid courage through my limbs with quick efficiency.
Yvette, Latina and basically has been shaking her hips since hearing the first beats of a nursery rhyme, dances in circles around us. Della and I were pretty good, too, though. We used to dance to any type of music that was playing. Whether we were at high school parties, or in the car driving somewhere, we loved to dance.
We had always been “those girls” that preferred dancing together. Not the ones that would grind on each other, but the ones that fed off the other one’s energy and stole the attention from everyone around them.
My arms were in the air, swaying with the crowd and the music. Shaking my hips and thrusting side to side. Della was bent low to the ground, masterly keeping her goods hidden from view. After a few songs I was thankful for the open back of my shirt.
Della’s veil had been a universal sign to all the men out here with us that she was a taken women and they rightly stayed away. Me and Yvette, however, had them coming in spades. Yvette was all for it. I was not.
Technically, I’m a single woman, free to dance with whomever. But I couldn’t shake thoughts of Luke, which kept me in a state of ambivalent awareness with dance partners. By the third one, I shimmied away with the excuse of dancing closer to Della, and she read my game and lifted an auburn brow at me.
“Just because I agreed to wear the skirt doesn’t mean I’m open for business,” I shouted over the music for her to hear me.
“Admit it. You and Luke have something going on that you’re not telling me.”
“When there’s something worth sharing, I’ll let you know,” I smirk, having too much fun toying with her being left out of Luke’s and my relationship.
“I guess the fact that he’s not sharing anything with me shows he’s serious. He’s never done that with the others.”
“Are there any old flames from Calusa I should worry about?”
I shouldn’t have asked, it was a weak moment, but at the mention of Luke being with “others” it twisted my insides in a way that was unfamiliar.
“Uhhhh…”
Another track picked up. Della grabbed mine and Yvette’s hands to pull us off the floor.
I’ll take that as a yes, then.
Great.
The table held a colorful variety of drinks. We all sat in a circle, lifting our glasses and toasting to Della and her nuptials.
“I want to consume all the alcohol, sweat it off on the dance floor, and drink some more,” Della declared, slurping down her first drink.
We cheered. Even Chloe let out a dainty giggle.
“Pretty sure it doesn’t work that easy. You’re going to be so trashed,” Karenna bustles.
Over an hour later, three out of the five of us were.
Tequila was my downfall.
There was one point I went from laughing hysterically to sentimental like a bad hot flash.
I set my head on Della’s shoulder, and muttered, “I miss you.”
Details weren’t needed. She knew what I meant. I missed her, I missed living close by, I missed having a real friend. I missed all the time in between where she built her life to what it is now. After her wedding, things would settle back to normal with both our lives and I did not know how often I would get to come back for weekends visits. But I would never let time idle our friendship again.
More drinks arrived at our table over the next couple of hours. The soon to be bride stood out in the crowd and people wanted to participate in getting her drunk.
Della wobbled, giggling into her phone. I was pretty sure she was drunk sexting her almost husband.
When she wasn’t face down in her cell, Della worked on assuring Chloe it was okay to leave us. The poor girl looked skittish every time a group of guys circled us to offer a round of drinks on them. And Della apparently wasn’t settling down for the night any time soon.
Kareena needed to head out, her husband couldn’t get their kids to calm down enough to go to bed—and it was already midnight—so she offered to walk out with Chloe who called a cab.
I hugged Kareena, and drunkenly babbled about how cool she is and I was going to miss her when I was back in boring Tampa.
Because if one thing was true, small town girls knew how to party better than big city folks.
After they took off, the three of us left got back out on the dance floor with the live band. With no one to watch over our drinks at the table, we used that as an excuse to finish everything off.
As we hopped off our stools, with Yvette leading the way, I caught Della eyeing me in a curious manner.
“What?” I slurred.
Holy crap, I was going to be so messed up tomorrow.
I snatched her left arm and entwined it with my right when I started tilting over. At least I think I was falling. That or everyone else around me were falling in the same direction and I was standing up straight.
“I know something you don’t know,” she sang to me.
“Somehow that’s more annoying coming from your twenty-six year old self than when we were six.”
Della’s laugh assaulted my ear, then she dragged me the rest of the way to the dance floor.
Yvette had already beat us there and had a guy at her back while she shook her ass to some country pop song the band did a cover for. Upon closer inspection, he’s one of the guys that bought a round drinks for us. His friend danced close by, watching me with seedy eyes as we came closer. I turned away from him and into Della. After another song and no grabby hands from a stranger, I started to really feel the music.
The band changed their tunes over to classic rock, but with their own spin on the beats. I lost sight of Della and Yvette. The drinks we forced down were taking over my already inebriated state.
Hands gripped my hips, and without much thought to it, I shifted to the side and away from Mr. Grabby Hands.
Go figure. Right when I thought I was in the clear, the beady eyed guy shows up.
I felt him sidle up to me once again, placing firm hands at my waist this time. Those hands didn’t waste another opportunity to curve around my front and press my back to his chest.
I blame the alcohol for quickly assessing how nice said chess felt. All tight and broad as it covered my back. I had to fight to brush off its appeal and spin around to give him a verbal “no thanks” face to face.
With my mind determined to admire that chest now that I’m facing it, my eyes went their own way and started its trail there.
A dark Henley stretched taut across the heavily muscled guy. My mouth salivated at his exposed, tanned forearms. There was drool, and I started licking at it because I’m unhinged and undignified. But forearms were sexy, am I right, sisters?!
I carried my hungry gaze upward, over a square jaw, and in to a pair of melty brown eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Luke murmured.