the thought of Laura’s curvy bod. “Oh please, you took painted-on tailored suits to a whole new level. Long blonde curls, petite little frame and your ass bursting out of your office pants? You disgust me.”
She does, she really does. Had I always felt this way about my best-friend stand-in?
“I disgust YOU?” She laughed. “Then why am I the one who’s puking? You’re so much taller than me! You can gain five pounds and no one will even know.”
“Too bad I gained fifteen though. God...what the hell did I eat last year?” I poked my belly with my index finger, sighing at how easily it squished.
“So how’s the gym going?” she asked. Good ol’ Laura, forcing me not to dwell on last year’s menu.
“The gym’s alright. It’s way too early to hop on the scale, but I worked out twice in the last couple weeks. Tonight I’m gonna chill with some pie.” I smiled.
“Twice in the last couple weeks? Pie? So let me get this straight: your parents are going to saddle you up with a stranger, while my Italian family is predicting that I’ll wind up a spinster. And you’re talking about pie?!”
“But it’s APPLE pie.” I loved apple pie but she had a point. I hadn’t been out on the prowl even once, since Eleanor and I were in hiding from this horrible weather. But this was Canada. If we waited for spring we’d be waiting ‘til April at least.
“Alright that’s it,” stated Laura. “Tomorrow we’re going to a happy hour place. There’s this awesome swanky bar downtown. I haven’t been, but my friend told me Thursdays are crazy.”
“Crazy?” I didn’t like the sound of this.
“I mean like crazy-busy. They have a velvet rope with a bouncer, and from what she said the place is just crawling with investment bankers, executives, lawyers...do I have your attention?”
“You have my full attention, but I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Can’t we just wait until I lose five pounds?” As if I want an investment banker grabbing at my “rolls.”
“Ugh, stop being such a loser! You are lovely. The weight thing is more about being active, so you’ll stop running out of breath when you climb a flight of stairs. And yes, I’ve seen you do that.”
God, who ELSE knows about my terrible stamina?
I really couldn’t think of other reasons not to go. “Okay, but just to clarify…I’m looking for somebody to fall in love with, and money doesn’t equal love---”
“And blah, blah, blah, I promise we’ll find you a prince, blah, blah, blah. But seriously, we’re going tomorrow night. We can be each other’s wingmen!”
Man-hunting missions at a hot trendy bar? Maybe I’d find a Valentine after all…
***
I arrived outside the bar at six o’ clock the next night, feeling nervous, cold, and tired from a long day at work. There was indeed a red velvet rope, holding in a long line of people huddled up in coats and scarves. There was also a scary-looking bouncer. What IS this place?
“Romes! Over here!”
I followed Laura’s voice to the front of the line. Her grey wool coat hugged the curves of her short but well-toned body. I turned to the bar’s long windows to catch my reflection. My wool winter coat was of similar length, but it seemed to give my shoulders a boxy look. And why was it the same boxy shape from top to bottom?
I spun around to face Laura. “How much did it cost you to tailor that coat?”
“It’s not tailored.”
“So your coat fits like that on its own?”
“Fits like what?”
“I hate you.”
Laura simply laughed as she pulled out her phone. Meanwhile my mind raced through scenes of Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts in romantic comedies. Once I was finished I frowned at the disturbing conclusion:
-Leading ladies are always hotter than their sidekicks. So why are all my sidekicks hotter than me?
Maybe I was in the wrong movie.
***
The bouncer let us in and I immediately lost my way. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkened interior, I