Page 38 of Miss Behaved
“No.” I shake my head. “Bring on the Bloody Marys.”
“That’s our girl.” Nadine winks and then pushes her sunglasses up her nose. “Now get me out of this fuckin’ heat.”
Those words falling out of her mouth make me laugh. For two women double my age, they have no filter, and I’m a little bit jealous. I really need to learn how to be more uninhibited.
We pile back into the vans that drove us here and shuttle to a café near the hotel.
“Bloody Mary, extra spicy,” I order when the waitress makes her way around. “And extra bacon in it,” I add as I watch one with a giant piece of crispy bacon sticking out being delivered to the table next to us.
“Make that two,” Agnes says, handing over her menu and turning to me. “You know, if you’re ever in San Francisco, you better holler, because I know this place that serves the best Bloody Mary. Right around the corner from my apartment.”
“It’s not the best.” Nadine shakes her head and takes a drink of her water. “But the ambiance has blinded her tastebuds.”
“Ambiance?”
“Waiters with six-packs for days, itty-bitty shorts, and handfuls upon handfuls of bulges,” Nadine says.
Agnes grins unabashedly. “Ricardo makes a mean drink; his firm ass has nothing to do with it.”
“Mm-hmm,” Nadine hums, and Agnes places her hand over Nadine’s.
Our drinks arrive, and I take a long sip.
“Yowza, that’s got some kick!” I snap off a piece of bacon and let the salt mellow out the fire in my mouth.
“Delicious,” Agnes says, and I nod.
“What you got there?” I point to Yhani’s glass. It’s layered with orange on the bottom and slowly fades to red on top.
“Tequila sunrise, minus the tequila,” she says with pursed lips. Her hands wrap around her long blonde curls, and she pulls them to one side of her shoulder. “Only three more months, then good luck world.”
“Such a youngin’,” Agnes sighs. “I was still ten years away from my first book at your age.”
“Fifteen years away for me,” Nadine says. “Too busy workin’ my way through husbands one and two.”
“Inspiration?” I smile.
“No, that would be husband number three,” Nadine says with a wink. “And occasionally husband number four.”
“Four?” Yhani says with wide eyes.
“Aw, don’t break the poor girl’s mind, Naddy, dear,” Agnes says with a giggle.
Nadine grins and chews off a piece of bacon. “No regrets here. Some people fuck around; I marry around. Maybe I’m just a romantic.”
“That’s one word for it.” Agnes smiles.
“And what about you?” I tip my glass at Agnes.
She sets down her drink, and her eyes get dreamy. “Only one for me. Nathaniel, may he rest in peace.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.
“Thanks, dear.” Agnes gives me a sad smile. “He was quite a man—my high school sweetheart, actually. But we spent some time apart after graduation. Both of us had lots of growin’ up to do before we found our way back to each other. Ran into him again eight years later, and the rest is history.”
“Eight years,” I repeat, taking another drink. Underneath the spice must be a good amount of vodka because my head is getting fuzzy.
Hearing Agnes talk about Nathanial, I can’t help but think about Carson. We weren’t high school sweethearts, but we were something. Friends. Confidants. Up until that one night, he was practically family.
