Come Fly With Me (37 page)

****

A
short
while
later,
Allison
and
Emily
were
on
their
third
salt-rimmed
drink
at
their
favorite
local
watering
hole,
Sam's Place
.
Samuel,
the
bartender,
was
keeping
an
eye
on
the
two
of
them
and
their
steady
stream
of
drinks
as
they
sat
ringside
at
the
bar.

"...and
then,
I
walked
into
the
kitchen
and
his
father
was
wearing
an
apron
with
these
little...you
know
black
and
white—what
are
they
called...
little
fire
plug
dogs?"

"Oh,
you
mean
Dalmatians."

"Yes!"
Allison
shouted,
"You
got
it
right.
And
then,
they
fed
bourbon
and
brownies
to
the
kids."

"No,
they
didn't!"

Allison
nodded
her
head
solemnly.
She
finished
off
her
drink
and
turned
to
Samuel,
"We'll
have
another
pitcher."

"Don't
you
think
you've
had
enough?"
he
asked.

"If
I
asked
for
more,
how
could
I
have
had
enough?
OBVIOUSLY.
And
by
the
way
Samuel,
there
is
no
such
thing
as
enough,
ever.
"
She
turned
to
Emily,
"Can
you
believe
he
thinks
we're
knackered?"

"What?
Who's
knocked
up?!"

"OMG!
I
said
KNACKERED,
that's
the
word
the
Brits
use
when
they've
drunk
too
much,"
she
leaned
in
as
she
whispered.

Emily
bobbed
her
head
up
and
down
enthusiastically,

A
former
jock-type
approached
them
and
started
to
speak
with
Emily.
"Hey
there,
beautiful...what's
cracking?"

The
two
women
looked
at
him
in
horror
and
burst
out
laughing
simultaneously,
"Are
you
from
the
eighties?
No
one
uses
lines,
anymore,"
Allison
said.

"Well,
maybe
no
one
uses
lines
on
you
,
but
I
was
talking
to
the
blonde
on
your
right,"
he
said.

"Really?
Because
the
blonde
on
my
right
is
two
hundred
and
twenty-five
pounds,
and
he
doesn't
look
too
happy
to
see
you."

He
swung
his
head
to
Allison's
right
and
indeed,
there
was
a
rather
irritated-looking
man
standing
there.

"Ah,
I'm
sorry,
I
meant..."
he
stammered.

"You
meant
that
you're
too
stupid
to
pick
up
an
intelligent
woman
like
Emily
here,
so
crawl
back
to
your
cave
and
relive
your
marijuana-induced
coma
of
two
decades
past."
She
watched
in
satisfaction
as
he
slinked
off.

Emily
was
laughing
a
little
too
hard,
"His...
his...
his
expression
was
priceless."

Allison
downed
her
fourth
margarita,
"Emily,
you're
the
Betty
to
my
Veronica—best
buds
forever."

Emily
looked
down
at
her
glass,
"But
weren't
they
'frenemies'?"

Allison
let
out
a
large
gasp
and
put
her
hand
over
their
mouth,
"I
never
got
that.
Samuel,
were
Betty
and
Veronica
'frenemies'?"

"I
think
Betty
was
the
innocent
in
all
of
it,
Veronica
was
the
scheming
bitch
who
sought
to
undermine
their
friendship
at
every
step
over
a
guy,"
Samuel
said.

"Well,
look
at
that,"
Allison
moaned.
"Even
in
a
comic
book,
I'm
a
bitch."
She
sat
morosely
for
a
few
minutes.
"Wait!
Wait
just
one
minute!
Veronica
was
nasty
because
of
Archie,
right?"
She
looked
at
the
two
of
them
for
assurance.
They
nodded
their
heads
in
unison.
"Well...do
you
see
an
Archie
here?"
She
swung
her
arms
open
wide.
They
both
shook
their
heads.
"And
that's
because
Em
and
I
are
TOO
smart
to
let
a
guy,
a
goofy,
worthless
guy,
come
between
us!"
She
finished
off
with
a
shout
worthy
of
the
discovery
of
the
eighth
wonder
of
the
world.

She
looked
at
Samuel
triumphantly.

"Okay,
NOW,
you've
had
enough,"
he
said.
"I'm
putting
you
ladies
in
a
cab."

A
few
days
later
Allison
went
up
to
Nyack
to
see
her
mother.
She
lifted
the
lid
of
the
large
pot
bubbling
on
the
stove.
"You
never
made
butternut
squash
soup
when
I
was
a
kid."

"That's
because
you
wouldn't
have
eaten
it,"
her
mother
responded.
"Can
you
taste
it
and
tell
me
if
it's
spiced
right?"

Allison
went
to
the
drawer
and
got
a
ladle
and
soupspoon.
She
ladled
a
generous
portion
into
a
bowl
and
sat
down
on
a
stool
at
the
island.

"This
is
amazing,"
she
said
after
her
first
spoonful.
"Is
that
curry
I
taste?"