Page 33 of No Pucking Way
I needed an escape.
A way to forget…
My phone buzzed, and I saw Carrie's name flashing on the screen. I hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to answer or not. But maybe she could distract me from the shit show my life had suddenly turned into—if losing your memory to begin with wasn’t considered a shit show already.
I swiped to accept the call.
"Hey," I greeted her, my voice laced with weariness.
"Kennedy, girl, what's going on?" Carrie's voice was immediately concerned, because after five years she could read my tone like a book…"Who do I need to kill?"
I snickered, because her attempting homicide would actually be hilarious rather than scary…but then I remembered why I was upset.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It’s been a day," I muttered as I stomped up the steps to my apartment, the steps groaning under my feet like they were seconds away from collapse.
"Complicated how—fuck! Don’t eat that!” she snapped, and I found another grin on my face. Her kids were so freaking cute…but also handfuls.
“Just a second.” She swore. “We don’t eat poop!”
I waited as I unlocked my door and walked into my apartment, a big smile on my face as I imagined what was going on, and then she was back.
“Okay, crisis averted. You were saying?” she huffed.
I hesitated, not sure how much to reveal. "Let's just say I found out some things. And hockey players are assholes, and I’m feeling…weird."
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Carrie responded, her tone softening. "I mean that was definitely more vague than I was going for. But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. But you know what always helps in these situations?"
I raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn't see it. "What?"
"Alcohol," Carrie declared. "Let's go out, get drunk, and forget about whatever is going on."
“Sure you’re not running from the poop?” I teased.
She giggled. “Of course I’m running from the poop. Going out will be killing two birds with one stone…and you know I love multitasking.”
“Okay, alcohol it is…”
Carrie sounded triumphant. "That's the spirit! Meet me at The Tipsy Unicorn in an hour. We'll drink until we can't remember what's bothering us."
I hung up the phone, anticipation and…relief washing over me. Sometimes, all you needed was a bestie and a drink to put things in perspective, or at the very least, temporarily make you forget.
Not that I needed anymore forgetting…
* * *
The Tipsy Unicorn lived up to its name, with its dimly lit interior and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. Carrie and I had already downed a few shots, and the world was starting to take on a hazy, carefree quality. It was exactly what I needed, a temporary escape from the confusing mess that had become my life.
It helped that Carrie always had a good story for me.
“So we hear banging against our door, and the knob jiggles…like someone was trying to get in.”
She and her husband had just gotten back from a visit to Vegas, and evidently it had gotten a little crazy.
“What did you do?” I asked, a slight slur to my words as the shots kicked in.
“Well, as soon as we heard moans, we headed towards the peephole!”
“Moans?”