Page 29 of Mom Com

“You wanna bet?” she says.

“If you like losing,” I say with a too-big grin.

Liv laughs. “You’re on. Loser buys dinner.”

“I mean, sure, that’s not even really a consequence, but okay.”

“My God, you’re a reckless bitch and I love it. Okay, scratch dinner, the winner gets a prize of their choice. Open-ended.”

“That is... oh man. Okay,” I say, knowing I should be much more worried about this than I currently am.

Liv swishes the last of her drink and downs it. “Then I’m sorry to inform you, Mads, but if we’re going to resolve this bet, we need to venture down the road to Tony’s.”

I stare at her, my brain not forming the connections it needs in order to understand.

“It’s pool night,” she explains, handing her credit card to the bartender. “Otherwise known as Haverberry bros drinking together. And while that isn’t usually Wilder’s jam, it’s Matt Mazzeo’s birthday.”

“So, your plan is that we go to Tony’s and do what exactly?”

I should be nervous about the grin that appears on her face, but my defense grid is currently short-circuited by whiskey. Instead, I find myself sliding off my stool, my body made of sloshy warm liquid and false confidence, flicking my hair over my shoulder and saying, “Fuck it, lead the way.”

CHAPTER11

Ballsy Watermelon Vodka Sorbet—

a refreshing and delightful way to inspire foolishness, served in tiny deceptive scoops

You’d think the cold air would sober me up, but it turns out those drinks Liv ordered were made of rocket fuel and stupidity.

“I cannot believe you convinced me to do this,” I say, my breath a white cloud in front of my face, waving my hand at the town before me. My recent TV debut flashes through my thoughts like overly bright headlights.

Liv somehow maneuvers like a lioness in stilettos even though I know she’s at least one drink ahead of me. “Think of it as a good thing. Going to Tony’s tonight is like reclaiming this place by pissing in the town square to mark your territory. You can’t give these people the upper hand or your life here is going to be total shit.”

“One of the many reasons I want to go back to LA,” I declare and frown at the words I’ve said so many times recently that they’re losing their desired effect of comfort. “Liv, you went to law school... you know about things like wills, right?”

“Not my expertise,” she says, “but I understand the language if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind looking at my dad’s?” I say, clearly having blown past the point where I care about appropriate social norms. “See if there’s a loophole or something that could get me out of this arrangement?”

She stops abruptly.

I stop, too, a motion that causes me to stumble. “What?”

“No... nothing. I just... is that something you really want to do, Mads? Try to find a way out?” What she doesn’t say, but what is evident in her tone isfind a way out of your father’s last wishes.“Shit, sorry. I’m not judging, I’m just wondering.”

For a couple of seconds, I’m silent, the chilly breeze kicking up a few stray leaves that smell like wet earth and frost. “Maybe? Yes? Does that make me a bad person?”

She shakes her head. “Not in my opinion. But I’m not everyone.” I’m guessing what she means is that she’s not my mom—who will very obviously have a humungous problem with it. “But if you want me to have a look at it for you, I definitely will.”

“Thanks,” I say, surprised she’s willing to help even though I know it’ll put her in a weird position with Wilder.

She loops her arm through mine. “Okay, now let’s get to Tony’s before you think too hard and decide not to let me embarrass my brother.” She wags her eyebrows at me.

At any other moment, I would assert that it doesn’t matter to me what Wilder thinks one way or the other. But I don’t reallywantreality right now, I just want a bit of stupid fun with an old friend that doesn’t feel like drowning. And if I’m being truthful, my curiosity is piqued. Could there possibly be some buried part of Wilder that still thinks about me that way? And the moment I have the thought, I know it’s dangerous, but kind of deliciously so. Oh God, I really must be drunk. Maybe I—

Liv flings the door open to Tony’s like she’s walking into a board meeting to announce she just took over the company. And instead of hiding behind her, nervous about what I got myself into, I play along, hyped up on her energy and my own lack of inhibitions, my gaze sweeping over the crowd of twenty- and thirtysomethings likeThat’s right bitches, I’m back and I’m doused in whiskey. Come at me at your own peril.

Tony’s smells like pizza and beer, and has a décor reminiscent of a Western saloon, with rustic wooden beams running along the ceiling and barrels as the support structure for the bar. There are dartboards along one wall and a worn pool table, where Matt’s birthday crew congregates in a sea of empty beer bottles.