Greta had taken the news fairly well. There was only some minor screaming and melodramatic moaning before she agreed to go to the party. Lucy had promised her infinite material for mockery, since the party was going to be filled with socially awkward film studies majors. The only reason she herself wanted to go was because of the hot guy who’d been recently hired in the communications department. He looked fresh yet angry and had unusually large hands for an academic. When they’d met for the first time a few days ago, Lucy had been pleasantly surprised by the strength of his grip and the roughness of his skin as they shook hands. She immediately pictured a hot love affair, something she always felt she’d been robbed of in grad school, with all her ageing feminist profs. She planned to make up for lost time, and if it wasn’t with a student (it seemed like slim pickings in all of her classes this year), then it would have to be with the new guy with man hands.
The three of them arrived at the party wearing cocktail dresses and heels. Lucy carried a flask of jagermeister discreetly in her purse and offered swigs to her friends as they approached the dreaded party.
“Shit. I may as well,” said Babs as she took a giant and painful swig. “At this point, I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Greta looked disgustedly at the dark liquid Lucy was offering her and proceeded to pull out her own be bejeweled flask of scotch. That’s what Lucy loved about Greta; the fact that she was always surprising her.
“Here goes nothing,” Lucy said. “Oh and lay off the tall dark haired one with the flavour saver. I’ve got dibs.”
Babs and Greta looked at each other and rolled their eyes. So that was why Lucy was so desperate to attend this lame party. They should have guessed…
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment