This is the start of an amazing new chapter in my life. At least that’s what I keep reminding myself. How else will I get through today without curling up into a ball in my bed and feeling like the world’s biggest loser?

I reach my friend Tahlia’s apartment door and knock. Seconds later the door is whipped open and there stands one of my oldest, prettiest, richest friends. But I love her despite her perfect life.

She smiles wide and her blue eyes sparkle. “I’m so happy you’re home,” Tahlia says as she envelops me in a hug before dragging me through the door. She still smells like the expensive perfume she’s worn since high school.

“Me, too.” For the most part, that’s true. Returning to San Francisco, the city I grew up in, is a welcome change. I never quite made the same connections in Sacramento that I had with the girls I’d known since junior high.

Returning to the house I was raised in, which also happens to house two seventy-somethings? Not so stellar. But beggars can’t be choosers, as they say, and I was one bad decision away from being penniless and selling my body on a street corner.

“Ah! Is that Whit?” Lennon screams from the living room. Before I can blink she’s bounding down the hallway toward me, her cropped near-black hair bouncing as she does, the tattoos covering her arms a blur as she flails her limbs around like she’s preparing for take-off.

“You look like an interpretive dancer on crack,” I say with a laugh as she barrels into me.

She squeezes me tight and then pulls away. “Really?” She turns the corners of her mouth down. “I’ve been trying so hard to lay off the crack. I’m pretty much just sticking to meth now.”

I roll my eyes at the most outgoing and insane of my two best friends.

Some things you need to know about Lennon are that she’s rarely serious, is always pushing you out of your comfort zone, and prides herself on being able to tie a cherry stem with her tongue in ten seconds flat. Enough said.

“Someone who didn’t know you might just believe you,” Tahlia says as she pulls her blonde hair back into a ponytail with an elastic she has around her wrist. She’s still wearing her suit so she must’ve just gotten home from work at her father’s company.

Must be nice. The work part, I mean, not the working for her father part, because that man could be Tony Soprano’s half-brother, minus the Mob. At least I think so.

“Like I’d care,” Lennon mumbles as she heads back the way she came.

“I’m going to change out of this outfit,” Tahlia says. “Head on in and pour yourself a glass of wine. I stopped and picked up some appetizers for us. They’re laid out on the table in the living room.”

“Awesome. I could use something to dull the edges of the fact that I moved back into my grandparents’ house this afternoon.”

She gives me a sympathetic head tilt and rubs my back before we start down the hall. “It’s only temporary, Whit. You’ll be on your feet again in no time.”

“Or on your knees. If you’re lucky,” Lennon calls out.

We’re both laughing as Tahlia turns right to head to her bedroom and I move the opposite direction in search of the alcohol.

Her condo isn’t huge, but it’s modern and sleek and I’m sure must cost her more than I made in a month, since it’s in downtown San Francisco. Glass walls showcase the city lights beneath us and, coupled with the open-concept design of the kitchen, living, and dining room areas, the space feels airy and light.

Lennon and I catch up for a few minutes while we wait for Tahlia to rejoin us. As usual, her antics equally make me laugh and cringe. We all went to college in the Bay area and kept in touch through college. After college I left town to take a job at the local Sacramento newspaper, but there’s something comforting about knowing I’ll be seeing them on the regular now that I’ve returned to my hometown. We’re back to being the three amigos, as unlikely as our group is, given our differing personalities.

Tahlia enters the kitchen with a strange expression on her face. I’ve known her long enough to see that she’s trying to suppress a grin. There’s something she’s keeping from us. With anyone else I’d start prying, but she’s like an overstuffed vault filled with confetti. If we give her enough time she won’t be able to stand it and it will all come bursting out.

After she’s poured herself a glass of wine the three of us head into her living room, where Lennon makes herself comfortable on Tahlia’s brown leather chair while Tahl and I opt to sit on the cream suede couch.

A small tray of pristine-looking appetizers sits on the circular coffee table accompanied by small plates and napkins. I honestly don’t know why Tahlia wastes her talents at her father’s company. She’d be an amazing event planner. I know her mother drilled into her the importance of entertaining properly since birth, but she has a natural knack for making everyone around her comfortable and creating a memorable experience when you’re in her care.

“Any luck on the job front?” she asks before setting her wine glass down on the table with an exaggerated flourish.

“Nothing yet. I plan on applying for anything and everything I’m qualified for tomorrow, though.”

“If you’re really stuck I know a guy who might be looking for someone,” Lennon says as she shoves one of the appetizers into her mouth. “I can’t promise it would all be entirely legal, but—”

“I think I’ll pass,” I respond with a laugh and take a healthy sip from my wine glass.

Lennon studies me for a second. “Yeah, I don’t think you could pull off a prison jumpsuit. Orange isn’t your color. Me, on the other hand… I could rock that baby like I was on the set of Orange Is the New Black.”

All three of us break out in laughter at her reference since she’s constantly told that she looks like one of the characters from that show. I swear I don’t see it, so it must be that she’s used her body as a canvas for her tattoos.

Tahlia presses her hands to her chest while she laughs and I’m practically blinded by the glare of a giant diamond on her ring finger. Of her left fucking hand.

Lennon must notice at the same time because she spits half her wine out all over herself. “Holy hell, Tahl. What the fuck?”

A huge grin spreads across Tahlia’s face and she lets out a squeal like she’s thirteen years old and just found out that One Direction just got back together. “I’m engaged! Chase asked me last night!”

We all scream and flap our arms in unison, doing a really good imitation of Lennon’s earlier crackhead impersonation. We pop up off of Tahl’s expensive furniture and embrace in an awkward three-person hug. I’m understanding now why in most threesomes two people do all the work on the other one. Trying to spread the love out evenly between three people is pretty impossible.

At least that’s what people who watch porn tell me.

Anyway, moving on.

Lennon and I inspect the huge hunk of rock on Tahl’s finger. It’s so big that I’m sure she’s going to end up having one massive bicep on her left arm and she’ll be reduced to wearing long-sleeve shirts even in the summer months just to hide it.

“This is absolutely beautiful,” I say, moving her hand back and forth so the diamond catches the light. “How did he propose?”

“Chase took me to our favorite restaurant and had the waiter place it on top of my dessert. He got down on one knee in front of the entire restaurant. Everyone started clapping and cheering.” Her smile is huge and lights up her entire face.

My initial thought is that Chase’s proposal was a little cliché and unimaginative, but my friend is happy, so who am I to judge?

“Have you told your parents?” Lennon asks as we all sit back down.

Tahlia nods. “I called them last night. They’re thrilled. Obviously.” A small blush creeps into her cheeks.

Tahl’s parents would be thrilled. She’s going to be marrying into the Webber family—one of San Francisco’s most prominent families with high-society lineage. Even those of us who don’t travel in those circles know about the Webbers. I’m sure Tahl’s mom’s vision for her life is complete now that she’s marrying well.

“I’m so excited for you! Do you know when you’ll have the wedding?” I lean forward and grab my wine glass back off the table.

Tahlia shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“Well, that’s one off the market. More for me,” Lennon jokes.

“You’re going to have so much fun planning this wedding,” I say then take a sip of my wine.

“As long as I can get my mother off my back. I’m sure she’s going to want to employ some high-priced wedding planner so she can make sure all her ideas are made into a reality. Whatever though.” She waves her hand in front of her. “I’ll figure it out.”

Good luck with that, I think but don’t say.

“So, Lennon, what’s up with you?” Tahlia asks. “Why did you want to get together tonight?”

Lennon mocks insult. “Can’t a girl just want to hang out with her two best friends in the world?”

“Not really. Not you. You made it sound so formal,” I say.

She fidgets in her seat and I realize that she’s nervous. Which is so not at all like her. Something is definitely up.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you both about.”

Tahlia and I both lean forward in our seats, anxious to hear what she has to say, but she’s silent. Finally, Tahl says, “And that would be…”

“Well, I guess I should start at the beginning.” She tips her wine glass back and takes a couple of big gulps before setting it down on the table. “You know how everyone, especially my brother, is always telling me to get serious and figure out what I want to do with my life, right?”

We both nod because, yeah. Lennon’s been told that more than a few times by her family.

“Usually I just tune that shit out. It’s kinda like that teacher on Charlie Brown. All I hear is muh-muh-muh. But about six months ago, I was chatting with this girl named Carly and she’d been through so much—homelessness, addiction, not graduating high school. But she was still so motivated and had such a vision for her life that it sort of made me feel guilty for not appreciating how easy I’ve had it in comparison.”

I almost feel as if I don’t know this girl in front of me. She looks like Lennon. She talks like Lennon. But Lennon is almost never serious like this.

“Where did you meet this girl?” I ask, curious.

“I met her at an AA meeting.” Lennon’s eyes flare for a second and she brings her hand to her mouth. “Shit. I don’t think I’m supposed to say that.”

I don’t respond to that comment because I’m still wondering what the hell she was doing at an AA meeting. “What the hell were you doing at an AA meeting?” Tahlia says. It’s like she can read my mind.

Lennon shrugs. “I was bored one night and I passed by a sign outside a church that said there was a meeting going on. I was curious so I went in.”

“You just went into an AA meeting even though you’re not an alcoholic?” I ask, just to be sure I heard her right.

“Pretty much.” She reaches forward and grabs one of the appetizers from the tray and places it on the plate in front of her. “Why, are you not supposed to do that?” She looks genuinely confused.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not,” Tahlia responds in a serious voice.

Lennon just shrugs it off again. “It was more boring than I thought it would be. No one really shared any crazy stories or anything.” She looks off into the distance like she’s deep in thought. “Shame really. I thought for sure when I sat beside the guy with all the neck tattoos and feather boa that he’d have some sordid tales to tell.”

“Lennon, you tattoo people for a living and have tattoos everywhere yourself.” I bring the wine to my lips and take a small sip.

“It doesn’t mean I can’t judge other people who have them.”

Both Tahlia and I give each other a look and then roll our eyes.

“You were saying,” Tahl says in an attempt to get Lennon back on track.

“Oh, right. Well, we got into this long conversation about how her life was in the shitter five years ago, and how she clawed her way out. No one thought she could do it but she persevered and now she’s a very successful business owner.”

“Don’t you enjoy tattooing people anymore?” I ask because I can’t imagine Lennon in a business suit. She’s… artsy. She always has been. Lennon is at her best when she’s able to express herself creatively.

“You know me, I love adhering permanent art to other people’s bodies, but I don’t know. Lately, I’ve felt like I need more, you know?”

Tahl and I nod our heads and I think I’m able to hide my surprise. I love my friend, but I honestly didn’t realize she ever thought about anything beyond the moment.

“It got me thinking,” Lennon carries on. “What am I good at? What am I interested in?”

“Dudes with beards?” Tahlia guesses.

“Not showering on Sundays?” I say.

“Making people uncomfortable?”

“Dining and dashing?”

“Oh, I know,” Tahlia says, waving her hand in the air. “Our old high school teacher Mr. Butler.”

“You guys are hilarious,” Lennon deadpans.

Tahlia and I laugh. “All right. All right. What is it?” I ask.

“Art! And sex!”

Hmm. I guess we missed the obvious.

“No argument there,” Tahlia says.

Lennon takes a deep breath and if I didn’t know her better, I might think that she’s actually nervous about whatever she’s about to tell us.

“I want to start a sex toy company.”

Both Tahlia and I sit there in silence and stare at her for a full minute.

“A sex toy company?” I ask, making sure I heard her right.

Lennon nods with a big grin on her face. “Yep. Most women are so sexually repressed it’s ridiculous.” She cuts a look over to Tahlia, but doesn’t comment further. “Why is it okay for men to be sexual and enjoy sex but for some reason it’s taboo for us?”

“I don’t know,” I respond honestly.

“I want to create a line that’s artsy and sleek. Devices that any woman would be proud to have—ones she doesn’t feel obligated to hide in her nightstand, mortified at the thought of someone finding them. I want my customer to be a woman proud of her sexuality.”

She hops up off the leather chair and scurries across to the kitchen, grabbing her large tote off the counter and bringing it back to the living room with her. When she takes her seat again she’s sitting cross-legged as she rummages through her purse.

Tahlia has been pretty quiet and I wonder what she’s thinking given that she’s the businesswoman out of all of us.

“I want you two to be my guinea pigs. I need honest opinions about the product. Look, feel… performance.” Lennon glances up at us and waggles her eyebrows.

I chuckle.

“I call these vibrators Tickled Pink.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out two hot pink, phallic-shaped sex toys wrapped in plastic. “The Tickled Pink vibrators are completely waterproof, made of a soft outer shell that’s designed to feel like the real thing, and you can wash them with soap and water.” She stands to deliver one to both Tahl and me. “I’ve already loaded them up with batteries so you’re good to get off.”

Lennon takes her seat again and looks at us expectantly.

“What do you expect us to do with these?” Tahlia asks, looking a little mortified.

“Use them.” Lennon rolls her eyes.

I pull mine from the plastic packaging and give it the once-over. I have to admit, it is attractive as far as these things go. It’s sleek and modern-looking. I’m no expert, but it doesn’t look anything like the scary, veiny, monster cock contraptions that come to mind when I think of vibrators.

“It’s cute,” I say.

“Thanks.” Lennon sits up a little higher in her chair, seeming to enjoy the fact that I’ve complimented her product.

“How were you able to get this made?” Tahlia asks, ever the businesswoman. “It can’t have been cheap.”

Lennon shrugs. “I used some of the money from my grandparents’ inheritance to fund it. I need to make sure my products are on point before I go hunting for investors to launch the line.”

“You’re going to blow your whole inheritance on this?” Tahlia gestures to the vibrator in her hand. “I thought that was supposed to be to purchase a house?”

A flash of hurt crosses over Lennon’s face, but she schools her features quickly. I know Tahl doesn’t mean anything by it, that she’s just looking out for her friend, but I feel bad for Lennon. “Well, if this takes off, I’ll have even more money to purchase a house in the end, won’t I?”

Tahlia and Lennon hold one another’s gaze for a moment before I interject.

“If anyone can do it you can, Lennon. I know you’ll find your investor and get this thing off the ground.”

She sends a grateful smile my way.

“If you need any help with a business plan or anything let me know,” Tahl says.

Lennon directs her smile her way and I know that the brief moment of tension is behind us.

The three of us catch up for a while longer before Lennon rises from the chair. “It’s been swell, ladies, but I have a date to put some D in the P.” She makes a circle with her thumb and index finger on her left hand and inserts the pointer finger of her right hand through it over and over. “Catch you on the flip side.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” I say.

She looks over her shoulder at me as she bends to pick up her purse off the floor. The crinkle in her forehead tells me she’s either confused or thinks I’m an idiot. “I’m not dating. Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m off to get laid. Totally different.”

Sometimes I envy her. Lennon never seems to let pesky things like responsibility, morals, or society’s standards weigh her down. She’s a free bird who does what she wants when she wants.

I, on the other hand, am borderline-obsessed with making something of myself. Which makes the fact that I was laid off from my last job even worse.

The childhood therapist my grandparents made me see said my overzealous drive was because my mother had pawned me off on her parents when I was just an infant and never showed her face again. That coupled with the fact that I’d never known my father apparently meant that I was subconsciously trying to prove myself worthy of love.

What did she know? Ten years of school and a black leather couch in your office did not an expert make.

I just value security and I want to be able to support myself. No sense relying on someone else when all they’ll do is let you down.

“I should get going, too,” I say.

Tahlia does this thing with her face where the corners of her lips both angle down and she looks like a Snapchat filter gone wrong. “Are you sure you can’t stay longer?”

“I live here now, remember? We can see each other all the time now. Besides, after your big news, I’m sure you’re anxious to spend the rest of the night with Chase.” I waggle my eyebrows and Tahl breaks out in a grin.

“Whit is right. Go spend the night between the sheets reminding that boy why he put a ring on it,” Lennon says before turning to strut down the hall.

Tahlia rolls her eyes and then follows us to her door to say her goodbyes. Ever the good hostess.

“Chase’s parents would like to have an engagement party at some point in the next couple of weeks. I can count on you girls to be there, right?”

I lean in and hug her and then Lennon follows suit. “Of course you can,” I say.

“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to watch your mother’s eyes roll back into her head when she sees me,” Lennon adds.

Tahl laughs as the two of us make our exit.

Tahlia’s mother has never really liked Lennon. She’s much too colorful for the Santoras. If I’m honest, I’ve only ever had the impression that Mrs. Santora tolerates me. Like Lennon, I didn’t come from oodles of money (obviously), but unlike Lennon, my skin isn’t a canvas for self-expression, and so I’m better able to hide that fact.

When Lennon steps out into the hallway she spins around and calls out, “Ladies, don’t forget to put your Tickled Pink vibrator to the test. I’m expecting a report back!”

An older couple passing by in the hallway give her a horrified look and scamper off as fast as their elderly legs will take them and we all break out into hysterics.

I wave back at Tahlia and loop my arm through Lennon’s and we walk down the hall toward the elevator. “It’s good to be home,” I say.

When we step out onto the street we walk for a second along the sidewalk before she stops beside a van parked on the side of the street. It’s then that I notice the VW van she’s driven since college is wrapped in a design of cartoon unicorns, some of which are shitting and throwing up rainbows. I raise an eyebrow.

Lennon looks from me to the vehicle and back again. “What? I like unicorns.”

“Okaaaaaay… do you think maybe this is taking it a little too far?”

She shrugs. “Lester needed a paint job and it was cheaper to have it wrapped. I could have gone with something boring, but where’s the fun in that?”

Such a Lennon answer. I roll my eyes and begin walking away.

“Hey, what are you doing? Hop in.” She gestures to the bright monstrosity beside her.

“I’m going to walk.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll drop you wherever it is you want to go.”

I shake my head. “I can get myself home. You go have fun with Mr. Right Now.”

She angles a hip and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I know you can get yourself home on your own, but you don’t have to.”

We stand, staring at each other for a moment, before she continues.

“I realize you hate relying on anyone for anything, Whit, but not everything is an imposition. Not everyone is going to let you down.” When I pin her with a stare, she raises her hands in a placating gesture. “Just sayin’.”

And that’s how I find myself driving through the hilly streets of San Francisco, Lil Wayne blasting from the speakers, inside a giant fucking unicorn.