Page 31 of My So-Called Perfect Life

Stomping to the entrance, I don’t even wait for them to move with me. I march right toward the door and swing it open.

I dart my eyes around the space but no Ryan to be found.

“Is he here?” Mercy asks, stopping behind me just inside the door.

Amelia nods toward the bar. “Please tell me that is not Mr. Sexy because if so, we need to talk about beer goggles. That man is not sexy. Pierced dick or no pierced dick.”

I look toward the end of the bar, and there’s a man pouring a beer. It isn’t Ryan though. But I do spot Roxy, who smiles at me.

“Back again?” she asks as we near the bar, my eyes still searching out Ryan. Maybe he’s in the back. “Punch anyone today?”

“No.” I laugh and take a seat.

Mercy and Amelia glance between each other.

“This is Roxy,” I clarify. “She hooked me up with some shots after Scott came by. Roxy, this is Amelia and Mercy.”

“What can I get for you ladies?”

Adrenaline still pumps through me, my mind and body prepared for a confrontation.

“Shots,” I answer quickly as my anger flares. I got myself all worked up in the matter of a few moments, and I feel like a shaken-up soda can, ready to pop. Even though I don’t particularly like shots, I feel as if it’s the only thing that will settle my frustrations.

Amelia slaps her hand on the bar. “Fireball!”

“No, you bitch.” I glower at her. “Tequila, please, Roxy.”

“You need to get to the restroom, Dani.” Mercy nudges my shoulder.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I’m reminded of the pain in my vagina, and my anger intensifies.

“After this shot. I need something to help numb the pain.”

Roxy delivers the shots, salt, and a dish of limes. I don’t wait to toast or anything. I lick my hand, dump some salt on it, grab a lime, and go. Salt, shot, lime. My lips pucker, but the warm liquor feels nice, going down. A good kind of burn—unlike the one I’m about to meet again in the restroom.

I head into the restroom and decide to treat this like a Band-Aid and just rip it off. Boy, does it sting. Not as bad as I was expecting—maybe because I have so much alcohol and adrenaline in my system, or perhaps the antibiotics are kicking in.

When I get back to the bar, there’s another round of shots waiting for me.

I repeat the same salt, shot, lime combo as before and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I think I’m developing a drinking problem. I’ve been drunk more in the last two weeks than in the last four years.”

“You probably also shouldn’t be drinking this much with those antibiotics,” Mercy adds.

“True,” Amelia chimes in. “You want the medication to actually work.”

I glare at them. “We’ve been drinking for hours and you’re just now telling me this?”

They both shrug at me.

“Whatever,” I reply. “I’m taking a free pass for today. I deserve it. It’s just the first day, I can’t imagine I’ll cause that big of an interaction with the pills.”

Mercy tosses back her shot. “What’s the plan here? Do you see him?”

“Just ask your girl if he’s here,” Amelia recommends.

“No way,” I hiss. “I don’t want to look like some stage-five clinger, stalking the guy at work after hooking up with him once.”

Amelia snorts. “Isn’t that what you’re doing though?”