Page 38 of For One Night

“All we need to do is file these, and you should get a copy in the mail.” She closes the folder. “Do you have any plans, work, or a place to stay?”

“I’m staying with my friend, Millie, in Cherry Grove. I’m still looking for work … more like, holding out hope.” I pick at my nail. “I have an interview later today.”

“Even better. I live just outside of Cherry Grove, off Highway Seventeen.”

“You do? So good to know. I’m nervous for the first time since my freshman year of college.”

“Don’t be, it’s a great place with amazing people.” She smiles. “I was new to the area not so long ago, and now, it’s home.”

I bite my lip. “If only I get this job, I could stay.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it.” She stands, picking up her things. “It’s time for you to have a little good luck.”

“Thank you so much. I feel the same way.”

She wraps her arms around me. “Let me know as soon as you’re settled, and we’ll have lunch.”

“Sounds great. Thanks again,” I hug her hard, “for everything.”

“Last box.” Millie walks through the door of my newly rented condo. “For the record, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I’ve sponged off you long enough.” I take the box from her, setting it on the counter.

“It’s only been a few months, I still have my sanity and most of my wine.”

“Ha haha hahaha.” She wanders over to the window as I unpack. “Four months, it’s been long enough.”

She opens the door, allowing the warm, salty breeze from the ocean to waft through. “I have to say, I’m loving your freelancing; it comes with amazing benefits.”

“I’m still not making the money I should be,” I grumble.

“True, but you’re making great money.” She rubs her fingers together. “You only need a car, and some more furniture, and some curtains.”

My mouth hangs. “Excuse me, Proud Mary is a badass.”

“Proud Mary needs her ass pimped,” she waggles her brows. “And I do mean … in all the ways!”

“No talkin’ shit about my girl. She’s my first ride.”

She taps her chin. “Wasn’t she your dad’s first ride? Cause she kinda looks like it. She’s that old.”

“She’s a classic!” I cock my brow in defense of my 1965 Chevelle.

She opens a box, taking out a pair of my panties. “Are these her best friend, Nasty Nancy? Wait, the last time these got nasty was in 1965!”

I toss balled up newspaper at her. “I get it. I just don’t have time.”

“You refuse to make time.” She throws my panties at me.

I catch them mid-air. “What do you propose? Me in a bathing suit, struttin’ on the beach until some dude in a banana hammock picks me up?”

“Ewe, no.” She shudders. “I’m thinking a girls’ weekend. I’m thinking a trip. I’m thinking Sin City!”

“Las Vegas?” I gape at her. “How am I supposed to go to Vegas?”

“Hence, the WEEKEND part of the girls’ trip.”

I open my mouth, shutting it until I can come up with a perfect reason not to go. “I can’t.”