I had my driver go pick the girls up from the airport last night when they got in. We all got drunk off some cheap-ass screw-top rosé. I woke up on the floor, my back sore as shit.
Oh but Rebekah, aren’t you pregnant? Yeah, so? I don’t even know if I want to keep it anymore. Maybe I’ll get an abortion. Is that okay? I don’t even know.
I poured myself another glass of rosé, my third one this morning. It was nine in the morning.
My girls were still asleep, five of them in total. Lindsay gave birth a few weeks ago, so she couldn’t make it. What a bore.
I got bored so I clapped my hands as my girls slowly woke up, a few of them half-naked. I had poured them each a glass of rosé, which they accepted. Hallie chugged it down immediately while Della and Cleo cheered her on. Ariana and Niki eyed each other warily.
“Bek, don’t you think it’s too early for alcohol?” Niki asked.
I started laughing uncontrollably. “No, of course not,” I said.
Hallie took the glass from Niki’s hand and started sipping it down. “Never too early to numb heartbreak,” she said. She had recently been dumped by her longtime boyfriend of seven years.
“Well, you guys actually have a reason,” Niki replied.
I sighed. “I brought you guys here to be with me and drink with me, do you want that or not?” I asked.
“Of course we do,” Ariana said.
Obviously none of them knew I was pregnant. And I wasn’t going to tell them, because all I wanted was more to drink. I needed to numb this headache.
Hallie started drunk crying while the girls comforted her. She was crying about how stupid boys were and something about her ex’s tiny dick and how she needed a hot stud of a rebound.
I went upstairs to my room and put a shirt over my teal sports bra and threw on a pair of pajama pants. I checked to look at myself in the mirror. My bun was a literal mess, my mascara from yesterday still smeared with the run marks on my cheeks from when we all cried together. If that’s not real girlhood, I don’t want it.
I went back downstairs and everyone was on their phone. Except Hallie, who was chugging the entire bottle down. Admittedly, yes, she has alcohol problems, but usually just champagne. Champagne problems.
Hours passed of us drinking, sleeping, while Hallie puked her guts out. Fast forward to 300 coffees later, it was seven p.m. I got up, got dressed, and drove out to a club with Della and Ariana.
We got there, and the valet took my car without a word. We walked in, and they went to the bar. I went to watch the Craps game.
I stood there, leaning on the side of the table like most of the other watchers. A young man came up and stood by me.
“Just watching?” he asked.
I turned to look at him. Tall, dark hair, dark tan skin. “Yep,” I responded.
He extended his hand to me. “I’m Dali,” he said.
I shook his hand. “Rebekah.”
He pointed across the table to a young ginger man. He laid down two chips on the table. “He’s winning,” he said, his Spanish accent popping through.
I laid down three chips that I had picked up from the floor and pointed at an older lady, probably around 60. “No, she’s got it,” I told him.
The lady I had bet on picks up the dice, slowly rolls them around in her hands, then rolls them onto the felt table. One die has a four, and the other shows a three. The people around her erupt in cheers, as she just rolled the winning seven.
I slyly picked up his two chips along with gathering my three, and a small smile spread across his lips.
“Ah,” he says. “Picking the calculating lady, interesting.”
“Well, she speaks to me,” I replied.
The lady I bet on gathered the chips from the table that she won and ran up to the front to cash in her money.
I got bored of Craps, so I walked over to a running Blackjack game where I sat down at the table, and impulsively bet ten thousand dollars on the game. Dali was standing behind my chair.
The dealer, a middle aged, graying man, dealt me an ace and a ten. I kept on my poker face, but I was internally going crazy. It’s a perfect twenty-one, so I can’t lose.
He looks at me.
“I’ll stand,” I say. He lays down a nine and a ten, giving him a nineteen. I set down my twenty-one on the table and the dealer’s face drops.
I laid my hand out as he placed his bet-on chips into my hand. I stand up from the table and Dali pats my shoulder.
“Nice work,” he tells me.
“I didn’t do anything. It was luck. Bill was watching over me,” I said.
He furrowed his brows. “Who’s Bill?” he asked.
My eyes settled on my heels. “My late husband,” I told him.
He puts his hand back on my shoulder. “My condolences,” he says.
“Thank you,” I replied.
We walked up to the bar, where I sat down and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea with extra tequila. He sat down on a stool next to me.
“So your husband died? How recently?” he asked.
“Recently. Last week I think?” I said.
The bartender brought my drink over and he turned to Dali.
“Ah, Salvador, here again are you?” the bartender said.
“It seems I am,” Dali said. “Can I get the regular?”
“Of course,” the bartender replied, rushing off to work with the alcohol.
“Rebekah, I’ve got to say, I’ve really enjoyed your company this past hour. Do you think I can take you out to dinner sometime?” Dali asked.
I shook my head as I chugged down half of my drink. “Bill just died, I don’t think so,” I told him.
He shook his head. “Ah, that’s alright. A beautiful, young woman like you probably already has backup options. This Bill was a real lucky guy to have landed you. You’re quite the catch,” he said.
I smiled. I finished my drink as Della and Ariana walked over to me. “We gotta go, Bek. Niki called and said there’s some kid there asking for Betty, and he won’t leave until he sees her,” Ariana said.
I groaned. “Fucking James,” I mumbled.
Dali picks up my left hand and kisses it.
“Goodbye for now, mi amor,” he says, his accent going strong.
I gave him a quick side hug and left, picking up my car from the valet and driving us back to my house. And sure enough, James was pounding at my front door.
I slammed the driver’s seat door as I stumbled my way up my driveway. James whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes as he met my gaze.
“Get the fuck off my property,” I warned him.
He rolled his eyes as he stumbled off the porch toward me.
“Why can’t your sister take me back?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “That's not my problem. Ask her,” I said.
“But I miss her,” he moaned.
“I know,” I said, trying to be sympathetic.
“And her boyfriend is so hot,” he moaned.
I paused. “Sure,” I told him.
He started crying. “I miss Andres,” he said, leaning on me.
“I bet,” I told him.
Before I knew it, Augustine, Marjorie’s granddaughter, comes over and pulls him off of me.
“I got him,” she told me.
“Augustine? I thought you didn’t like me anymore,” James cried.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she replied, taking him to her house.
I went into my house, sat down on my couch next to Cleo. I leaned on her shoulder, she put her head on mine, and I immediately fell asleep.
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