Wingman, part one

The ice was clinking, not that she could hear it over the music, but the swirl of the liquid as she twiddled her straw bounced the cubes against the glass. In a quieter place, it would be soothing, but here the sensory disconnect was frustrating. She blinked and then refocused her concentration on the prattling egomaniac beside her.

“…and that was the deal that got me on the partner track.” He took a sip of his Amstel Light and peered into the mirror behind the bar, running a hand gingerly over his gel-laden hair.

“Your parents must be so proud.” Her wide smile must have dampened the sarcasm, because he kept talking.

“Oh, they are. Pop can’t believe the money I’m making.” He settled his elbows against the bar to watch the dance floor. He gestured to the man dancing with Allison. “Yeah, Keith and I just keep riding this wave.” He maneuvered his arm around Beverley just as the dancing couple came back to the bar.

She stood up quickly, grabbing Allison by the arm. “We’re going to the bathroom. We’ll be right back.”

Allison turned with a sly smile and placed a sloppy kiss on Keith’s lips. Beverley yanked hard on her arm, causing her to stumble backward. “Get me another drink, baby?”

Once they maneuvered into the relative quiet of the back hallway, Allison pried Beverley’s fingers off her rapidly bruising arm. “The fuck, Bev?”

“Hope you’re ready to fly back to base, because your wingman is done.” She pushed open the bathroom door and stomped inside. Allison followed her and pulled a lipstick out of her purse.

She uncapped it and screwed the base to reveal the burgundy shade that not so coincidentally matched the smudges on Keith’s neck. “You’re not having a good time?” She paused, forming a large ‘O’ with her lips as she refreshed her makeup. “It looked like you and…” She paused and rested her hands on both sides of the sink as she turned to look at Beverley. She giggled. “Fuck, what is his name? Mr. Slick.”

“Adam.” Beverley crossed her arms.

“Yeah, Adam. Looked like you and Adam were talking.” Allison smacked her lips and recapped the tube of lipstick.

“Adam was the only one talking.” She rubbed her temples, willing the tension to dissipate.

Allison was staring at the mirror playing with her hair. “Lighten up, Red.”

Beverley moved closer and gently touched her arm as she softly asked, “What is going on with you?”

Allison looked down at the hand on her arm and back up into Beverley’s face, lifting her eyebrows. “What?”

Beverley stepped back and turned on the water at her sink. “Don’t pretend we do this all the time.” She splashed a cold handful over her face.

“What?” Allison had her compact and was powdering her nose. Beverley reached for a paper towel and patted her face dry.

“This is the fourth ‘Adam’ I’ve had to entertain this week.”

“And?” She snapped the compact shut and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just having a good time.”

“Fine.” Beverley crumpled the towel and threw it in the trash as she walked around Allison to the door. Allison spun around, following her movements.

“Fine? I’m getting a ‘fine’ from you?”

Beverley put her palm flat on the door. “I’m going home.” Before she could push, the door was suddenly opened, and one tipsy girl staggered into the bathroom half-carrying her well-inebriated friend. Allison and Beverley watched in mild amusement as one tried to help the other get to the toilet before vomiting. “Like I said, I’m going home. So I won’t be here when you get to that point.”

“Be my guest. I’m pretty sure who I’m going home with.” She was retouching her mascara. Beverley snorted.

“Right. Whatever.”

Allison’s eyes narrowed in the mirror before she spoke. “You’re just mad that I get to pick and choose. That I’m the center of attention.”

“Yeah, that’s it. You nailed it exactly. God, stop being so childish.” Beverley pushed open the door and walked out of the bathroom and back to the bar. She gathered her coat from the stool over Adam’s protestations.

“No? You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got an early morning.” She raised her chin and fixed him with a glare and a frown that managed to penetrate his Neanderthal skull. He would not be asking for her number.

She was just outside, raising her hand for a taxi when she felt a hand tap her shoulder. She spun around, ready to lash out at him. Allison was standing there, arms crossed, rubbing her palms over her upper arms to keep warm.

“Yeah?” Beverley dug her hands deep into her pockets and lowered her chin.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. What I said.” The thin tremble in her voice made Beverley glance up. She stared into her face and noticed the barest hint of red rimming her eyes. She smiled and walked to the curb, lifting her hand for a cab.

“Whatever. You’re a big girl. Just be safe. And get inside before you freeze to death.”

Allison smiled and headed back into the club, pausing at the door to yell over her shoulder, “G’night, Bev!”