"Six," Chrissy correctsagain.
"Speaking of drinks..." Phoebe scoops up her shot glass. “TEQUILA!”
Gemma throws up her hands. "I take no responsibility for what happens after this round. For the record, I tried to talk you outofit."
"Oh, comeon. This is my bachelorette party, for god's sake!” Phoebe bellows over the band, drawing the attention of several surrounding tables. “We are required by law to drink until our feet go numb and dance untilwedrop."
"Oh, really? Is this your bachelorette party? I hadnoidea." Gemma rolls her eyes and sips her water. "It’s not like I planned the entire evening, or anything." Her eyes slide to me. “Except the strippers. That wasallLila.”
“Guilty as charged.” I shrug unapologetically. The movement makes the room spin a bit. I have officially reachedwhite-girl-wastedstatus. The point of no return. Which means Gemma may beright…
I’ll probably regret taking this last shot in themorning.
(Correction: I’lldefinitelyregret it in themorning.)
“God, I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow,” Shelby says, mirroring my thoughts. “I have to teach a sunrise yoga classatsix.”
Chrissy groans. “Ugh, you want to trade? Try having two toddlers in the house. You’ll be begging for your early-morningexercise.”
“Thanks, butno,” Shelby says quickly, wincing at thethought.
“Isn’t that what husbands are for?” Phoebe asks. “Taking care of the kids when Mommy is too hungover to move? Otherwise, I’ve been entirely misled about this whole marriagething.”
“Usually,” Chrissy confirms. “Unfortunately, Mark has a meetingtomorrow.”
“Phoebe, don’t forget you have a dress fitting at three,” Gemma reminds her sister. “Think you’ll be able to movebythen?”
“Um.” Phoebe screws up her face in a grimace. “What’s their cancellationpolicy?”
“If you miss your fitting, your Vera Wang will look like something you got off the clearance rack at David’s Bridal.” I elbow my best friend. “Drink a Gatorade, eat a banana, take a few Advil. You’ll be just fine. All you have to do is remain upright while the seamstress pecks at you. At least you don’t have to start a new jobat8AM.”
“Likeyoudo?” She snorts as if the idea of me working is absolutely ludicrous. “Lila, you’re the only one here without any responsibilities. Hell, you can sleep all day. If I didn’t love you so much, I’dhateyou.”
Shit.
All the tequila has evidently loosened my tongue, because I almost slipped up. Almost told them the truth about what’s been going on, these past fewmonths…
“You’re right, of course. Nothing on my agenda.” I force out the lie in a falsely cheery tone. “I’ll probably sleep till noon. Maybe have a late brunch… hit the boutiques on Newbury if I feel uptoit…”
Lie,lie,lie.
Chrissy and Shelby shoot envious looks my way, but don’t seem to notice anything amiss. Phoebe is no longer listening — she’s begun singing along with the band, belting out lyrics to an old Backstreet Boys song and swaying in her seat. Only Gemma, who is painfully sober, seems to notice my twitchydiscomfort.
My heart starts to race as her pretty blue eyes narrow on my face, trying to read me. I’m typically great at covering my tracks, but after this many rounds, I’m not exactly up to my usual standards of deception. Still, I’ve managed to keep my financial situation under wraps for months, even from my best friends. I’m not about to blowitnow.
Better I allow them to continue thinking I’m still an unemployed party girl than admit the mortifyingtruth…
Turning my back on Gemma’s sudden scrutiny, I reach out and adjust the neon-pinkBRIDE-TO-BEsash drooping across Phoebe’s shoulder, admiring the white Prada sheath dress she's wearing underneath. After two bars, one strip club, and several hours riding around in the party bus Gemma rented for this occasion — a fifteen-foot-long stretch Hummer, complete with a disco-ball, champagne buckets, mirrored ceilings, and a solemn driver named Evan who her fiancé Chase keeps on payroll — the sash has lost some of itsluster.
Then again, we're all a little worse for wear by this point in the night. It’s nearly two in the morning; most of my makeup has long since melted off, and the only things that will hurt worse than my head in the harsh light of day are my feet from dancing in these skyscraper heels allnight.
“For the record, I love you guys," Phoebe drawls, her teary hazel eyes sweeping from me to her sister to Shelby to Chrissy. "Really. You'rethebest."
"Yes you've told us, Phoebe." Gemma shakes her head. "In fact, that's the tenth timetonight."
"Well, I mean it. Times ten." Phoebe's smile is lopsided and her hair, typically immaculately styled, is tangled around the cheap plastic tiara resting on the crown of her head. "I can't believe I'm getting married. To Nate. I mean... have you seen him? He's hot. Hotter than hot. He makes Charlie Hunnam look like a stale piece of bread. And he’s marryingme. I just can’t wrap my headaroundit.”
"Me neither." I smirk. "Thought it would never happen,frankly."