Page 72 of The Quit List
Of course, it’s not like everything around us fades or time slows down or anything. But I feel like this is a promising start to my search for sparks.
I nod back and hold up one finger to indicate that I’ll be there soon, adrenaline surging through my veins.
This is a good idea, and it’s happening.
I’m stepping right out of my comfort zone. Jesus, take the wheel.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender pops up suddenly, grinning. She’s tiny, with bright purple hair and three nose piercings.
“Um, a tonic water and… a Long Island Iced Tea.”
“Sure thing.”
Aubrey looks startled. “Long Island Iced Tea? Really?”
“Sorry, did you not want tonic water? I can order you something else?—”
“No, you just tend to order vodka cranberries if you’re drinking a cocktail. I’ve never seen you divert from the usual.”
I shrug as I fork over a whopping thirty dollars. “Tonight’s all about trying new things.”
The bartender sets a tall glass of brown liquid in front of me and I take a big sip. Try not to gag.
“What is this?!”
Aubrey laughs. “Like, straight liquor.”
Good grief.
Well, here goes nothing. I take another gulp, then nod my head towards the velvet ropes surrounding the VIP area. “Shall we?”
Aubrey doesn’t need to be told twice. She wriggles out of her little beige jacket and swings it over her shoulder jauntily before we stroll over to the VIP area.
I try my best to look confident. Like we belong.
All we’ve got to do is walk in like we’re meant to be there, and it’ll be?—
“Woah, there.” A big, meaty hand shoots out in front of me, blocking my path.
I glance up at the bouncer, all confidence leaving my body in one fell swoop. “Sorry!” I squeak, like a mouse who’s been caught stealing cheese.
He looks me up and down and shakes his head, like he’s already decided my fate. “You have a VIP pass?”
“Well, no, I?—”
“She’s here to see Aaron Marino!” Aubrey declares boldly.
The meaty-handed bouncer—who also has a meaty neck—laughs so hard, a vein pops on his forehead. “Her and every other woman in this bar.”
“No, she knows him,” Aubrey insists.
I nod along—the silent encourager—while sucking on my straw. The more I drink this cocktail, the better it tastes.
“That’s what they all say.” The bouncer moves to stand in front of us, blocking our path. “I’m going to have to ask you to move along, ladies.”
I’m about to wholeheartedly agree with this man and scurry away when it suddenly dawns on me that I do, in fact, know Aaron (sort of) and I am here to see him (actually).
“I’ll just call him and tell him to come down and get us!” I say loudly.