Drew stopped by to help lift a few heavy boxes for me and found a copy of the rules by the register. Three hours later he came back with shirts for everyone that said "I Love P.O.R.N." and made himself an honorary team captain.
Before I even had a chance to be worried about how I would pay my bills until the store started making money, Carter sat me down the night after Gavin and I first spent the night and told me he was going to take over paying for everything until I was up and running. It was the night of our first fight. I had been on my own and provided for Gavin and I all this time. There was no way I wanted to take Carter’s hand-out. My stubborn ass refused to see it from his point of view, hence the big fight. He had missed out on so much, and he felt guilty about that every single day, even though it wasn't his fault. Being able to pay my phone bill and buy Gavin new shoes and pay for his doctor's appointments made Carter feel like he was finally a full part of our lives and not just some guy with the title of "Dad." As independent as I was and as much as I hated the idea of someone paying my way, I couldn't deny him this if it was what he really wanted and it would make him happy. I ended my temper tantrum, agreed to what Carter was asking and then we had hot as hell make-up "phone calls" locked in the laundry room while Gavin watched a movie in the living room.
So, with Carter’s help and my decreased hours at the bar, I was able to get almost everything done a few days before the opening. The only thing left to do this far ahead of time was fold all of the brochures Jenny made for me. Carter took Gavin for the night so I could have some down time with the girls and they could help me with the folding.
Jim and Drew were going to keep Carter company since I would have their women all evening. I had to put my foot down though with Drew. I told him I would buy a tennis racket and go John McEnroe on his ass if my son came home with any new, colorful words.
Liz, Jenny and I were sitting on the floor of my living room surrounded by thousands of folded and unfolded brochures and four empty bottles of wine.
Wait, make that five. I emptied the fifth bottle into Liz’s glass after she jumped up and ran to the bathroom holding her hands between her legs like a toddler because she had to pee so badly.
I got up and walked to the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine. As I passed by the bathroom, I found the door wide open.
"Liz, are you peeing with the door open?"
She looked up at me with crazy, drunk eyes while she swayed back and forth on the toilet and peed.
"Yes. Does it bother you?"
"Only if you fall off the toilet and piss on my floor," I told her as I walked away.
"Fair enough, hairy muff!" she yelled to me.
After I popped the cork on another bottle of wine and refilled everyone's glasses, Liz came back into the living room, shoved the brochures out of the way and lay down on her belly with her chin in her hands.
"Okay, skank whores. Time for a little Truth or Dare," she slurred. "Jenny, what nickname have you given your vagina?"
Jenny blushed and bit her lip, looking down in her lap. After several long minutes of Liz and I goading her, she finally mumbled something that sounded like, "Water."
"Repeat that, please. I don't have dog hearing," I told her.
"You do have a vagina that smells like a dog though," Liz laughed.
"Fuck you, anal warts."
"I call my vagina, Waterford," Jenny said, interrupting the banter between Liz and me.
We turned to her with equal looks of confusion on our faces.
"Explain," Liz said as she took a sip of wine.
Jenny shrugged. "You know, Waterford is like, good dishes and stuff. So, I only let the best eat off of my Waterford."
Liz snorted. "Why don't you just call it China then?"
Jenny thought about this for a minute.
"But, I've never been to China," she replied with a puzzled look on her face.
“Okay, next!" I announced. "Liz, same question. Name that beaver!"
Why is this room tilty?
Liz took another big gulp of her wine.
"Vajingo. As in "maybe the vajingo ate your penis," she said in an Australian accent.
The radio that played from the kitchen finally stopped the sequence of commercials and switched to music.
"I love this song. It really envelopes me," Jenny said dreamily.
"Does it put a stamp on you too?" Liz laughed.
"Yeah, a tramp stamp!" I yelled.
Why am I yelling?
"I don't have a tattoo," Jenny argued.
"It's Claire’s turn and I'm choosing dare," Liz stated.
"Hey, I'm the one that gets to choose," I protested.
"Shut up, whore! I dare you to send Carter a picture of your tits."
"Wait, what did you say?" Jenny asked. "I can't hear you without my glasses on," she mumbled as she poured more wine into her glass. Liz ignored her and scooted across the floor army-style, grabbed my phone that lay in the middle of us and handed it to me. I only hesitated for a second before I snatched it out of her hand and pressed the button for the camera, chugging the rest of my glass of wine for liquid courage.
I lifted my shirt and bra up to my neck, held my arm out in front of me as far as I could and quickly snapped a picture. My shirt and bra were back down and I was scrolling through the contacts in my phone before anyone said anything.
"Holy shit, dude! I just meant a cle**age picture. I didn't need you to whip out the fun bags right in front of us. I have to say though, I'm kind of proud of you right now," Liz said in awe.
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