Accidents Happen

    "Hurry up, Chica!"     "Hush your mouth, Julia. I never take as long as you! A fifteen minute shower and shave with clothing at five minutes, tops. Better time than you've ever done," I told her. That shut her mouth good.     "Don' you goin' all uppity, girlfriend," Julia scolded. "Lookin' this good takes time." She combed her fingers through her long dark curls and winked her inch-long mink eyelashes at me.     I shook my head, "I don't know how you can stand to take so long. I mean, eyeliner, mascara and some lip gloss and I am set. No patience for anything else. Besides, it never makes me prettier."     "Charity, not all of us are blessed with natural innocence. No fair, I say."      I combed my long, mouse-colored hair, then twisted it into a dancer bun and pinned it to the back of my head with a pair of chop sticks.  I pulled on my "hottie" jeans and threw on a blouse.  All I needed were my low heels, and I was ready to dance.     When I was all dressed, I walked into the living room full of my friends. Only four of the five were here: Ann Abbot, my BFF and fellow English major at CU Boulder, one year ahead of me and graduating in May; Persimmon French, A study buddy in freshman year, Business Administration major CU Boulder, and a firecracker; Julia Melendez, high school friend, all around strong woman and mother of Jessica (she had to drop out to raise her), waitresses for a living; and Honoré Blue, Financial Management major, DU and stripper at the Mile High Club to graduate in May debt free (leave it to the financial manager, right?).     "Hey, Honoré, Where's Candi?" I asked.     "She has an exam, sugar. Besides, those brothers of hers won't let her have fun. That Enrique took her fake I.D. and CUT IT UP! Said two years was too soon for him and she needed friends her age, not us. He's such a controlling jerk. Paul is way better, too bad he is a girlie-man."     "Honoré, how do you determine "girlie-man" status?" I asked, somewhat offended.     "Tips, baby! He don't dip a $20 in my thong, girlie-man. Paul looks, dips a $5. That Enrique creep - all man. He slipped me a $50 once, but thought it entitled him to touching privileges. Denzel bounced him good for that, though.     "Jeez! Quit the judgements, Honoré," Ann broke in. "Those men are doing their best and have been raising her since the accident. Cut them some slack. But I do agree that Paul is the better man. Hotter, too." She fanned herself as she blushed a little.     "Nope. Enrique is the hottie. His triangular face and soulful eyes do it for me. Too bad I would have to support him," Persimmon mused. "Music gets very low pay."     "Oh, stop!" I interrupted. "We have a ladies' night of karaoke to get to. No cover charge and 'Barracuda' waiting for me! Let's go ladies. Who's got the Uber tonight?"     "I got it," Honoré said, "and the first round."     The ride in the Uber mini-van was full of boy talk and bets on who would win tonight's prize. This week's karaoke prize was a bottle of Patron Silver, my weakness. So, power ballad by Heart equals free bender for me!     We got to "The Library" just on time for the announcement about the singing competition. I signed up for the sixth slot.     "I don't know how you can get up there and sing," Ann said. " Just the thought of the whole audience judging me makes me nauseated."     "Oh, Annifer," Julia put in, "you got nothin' to think on. Your rack and all the men would vote for you if you sang like a dying cow."     Ann spewed her drink across the table with her surprised laugh. "OK, Julia. I'm still not singing." She went to the bar to get a rag to clean the mess.     "MMM-MMM, look what treats just walked in the door," Persimmon positively leered, licking her lips.     Enrique and Paul, Candi's overprotective brothers, and two guys I had never seen before came in.  One of the strangers was very tall, thin, and good looking in  a media kind of way.  If he could make me laugh, he might be worthwhile, but pretty-boys tend to be very self-centered and boring.  The other guy was more intriguing. He was taller than the Hernandez brothers, but not as tall as the pretty-boy. He had thick, black, wavy hair; a square jawline sprinkled with five o'clock shadow; high, defined cheekbones, a large Roman nose, hook and all; and perfectly almond shaped brilliant green eyes. I couldn't decide if he was good-looking, but he was absolutely striking.     "Hello, is there anybody in there?" Persimmon knocked on my forehead. "Where did you go? I think I will have an Enrique treat tonight. You want a Paul snack?"     "No! Stop it. I can't get with one of our crew's guardians. Yech! It would be like hooking up with your dad. I was looking at the guests. Do you know either of them?     "Nope. Never seen them at the business school. You seen them at DU, Honoré?"     "No. Not at work neither. You seen them at the Cafe, Julia?"     "Nope. They all new to me."     "But they are all hotties. Damn ... that tall one is my speed. I call dibs."     "Ann, seriously?" I asked. "Dibs? like in high school?"      "I see. You want the tall one." Her face fell. "I don't have a chance anyway.  I just wish I knew how to flirt."     "Oh, Ann! Cheer up! You Are Lovely. Scott was an ass who loved nobody but himself. The Hernandez brothers are different and, I am sure, their friends are, too."     "That is sweet of you to say, Charity. You are always backing me up. But the truth is, I am plain and dull. I just want to be pretty.     "Well, Chica, let's make your dream come true! Ladies room - NOW!" Julia grabbed Ann's wrist and dragged her to the bathrooms.     Honoré looked at me, "You know it will be thirty minutes and Ann will come back looking all hoochie, right?"     "Yep." We had grabbed a table right by the dance floor and near the stage. Persimmon ordered a pitcher of frozen margaritas and went to dance.     "Do you think Ann will cheer up?" I asked Honoré.     "Oh, yeah. Julia will get her all beautified, some hottie looking for a hoochie will come on to her, she'll get some and feel way better. That Scott was a controlling S.O.B. Don't worry, Charity, she'll be fine."     "Does Julia need help with the babysitter tonight? She needed a break for sure."     "She needs the night out all right, but she has to go back early. She pre-paid for four hours but the sitter will leave at the end of the four hours - said she wouldn't do another extension no matter how much she got paid. We have to leave by 11:30 tonight so Jessica won't be left alone." Honoré filled me in on the sitter-drama. "I think about her situation and wonder how I dodged that bullet. I went raincoat free in high school and my first year of college. She got pregnant, I didn't. Scary s**t. She's a good mom, though. I wouldn't be, too selfish.  Just thinking about her life ... damn. We make sure she don't buy a drink and send all the extra snacks home with her, okay? She got stiffed on tips again. Her boss sucks."     "I know. I don't know how you do it either, working full-time and a full-time student ..."     "Well, I ain't Dean's List material. But stripping pays well for the hours and I'll get my degree debt free. Also, another benefit is the professors who won't call on me 'cause they're regulars at the club. It's a real perk." She winked, "Let the good times roll!"     Just then Ann came back, hair in a messy bun, eyes all smoky, totally different clothes. Instead of her black pencil skirt and white v-neck, she was in a lime green spandex sports bra and a hot pink mini skirt with her black stilettos - she looked like she was all legs.     "How's our girlfriend looking now? Julia asked.     "Pretty amazing," I said, honestly. I looked for the tall hottie, to see if he had noticed our girl. I found him glaring at Julia. "Whoa - Julia, what did you say to him?" I ticked my chin in his direction.     "Oh, no he don't. I'll be right back." Julia stormed off to the the guys' table.     I listened to the chatter at out table, but watched Julia point her finger into the face of a guy over a foot taller than her. He hung his head for a moment, making me wonder what she told him. She pointed her finger in again, and his head snapped up with a deadly glare focused on Julia. The music came to an abrupt end and his voice carried out over the entire club, "... slutifying the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."      The entire population of the bar turned to look. Julia stood, staring, her mouth agape. His cheeks turned a bright red. Ann sniffled. I looked at her about three seconds before she turned and ran into the bathroom.  The first karaoke contender was on the stage and the music for "You Sexy Thing" (the most over sung karaoke song ever) started. No threat there, then the off key voice started, as I ran after Ann.     When I opened the bathroom door, she was already in her underwear, scrubbing the makeup off her face using the hand soap.     She looked at me in the mirror, "Why didn't you tell me I looked like a slut? Why did you let me do this?"     "Ann! You don't look like a slut! Or you didn't. You were just flashier. But ... On the plus side, tall hottie thinks you are beautiful."      "Not any more! Now he thinks I look like a slut and so does the whole bar full of people." Ann rinsed her face in the sink. "Is it bad that I like the fake lashes? You never wear them."     "No, Honey, it isn't bad.  I like them, too, but the glue makes my eyes swell shut."     Ann laughed, "Allergies must suck. Glad I don't have any." She pulled her old clothes out of her purse and changed back into her original outfit. "Does not makeup and false lashes work for me? I never carry more than lip gloss on me."     "Ann you ARE beautiful. Welcome to the no makeup zone. We have cookies.     The song changed twice when we were in the bathroom. By the time we got back to the table, Julia had left in embarrassment, Persimmon hooked up with an MBA candidate from Ft. Collins and left with him. Honoré wanted to dance and got to the floor just as the fourth contestant finished "Whoops, I did it Again", some old guy was waiting and my name was called to come warm up. Ann ordered a fresh pitcher and clean glasses since the table had been unattended for a little bit.     I walked up to the waiting area to talk with the organizers about the song and the version, and to warm up a little. The old guy got on the stage and sang "Black Dog" totally out of tune. I felt much safer. I was afraid he might pick a crowd pleaser like "New York, New York" and do well.  I am safe with him. Now it is my turn.     I strike a wide-legged stance and keep time with my left knee. Intro music ... Deep breath, "So this ain't the end/I saw you again, today/I had to turn my heart away." Cheers from the crowd, I nailed it! The rest of the song was perfect. I channeled the vocals of Ann Wilson perfectly. Perfection. I was on top of the world.     I strutted back to the table, Ann was chatting with the tall hottie, Honoré was monitoring the drinks and talking to Paul. Enrique was looking a little lost, sipping a margarita from the pitcher. I leaned over Enrique, grabbed the pitcher and a clean glass and poured myself a victory drink.      "What are you looking for," I asked Enrique politely.     "My friend, Jason, from college. He was here until a few seconds ago. Now he's not."     "Weird. Probably needed the bathroom. What is Candi doing tonight?" I asked.     "Not coming to a bar to be ogled! I cannot believe what you try to make my sister into. That Julia with a baby and still getting tarted up ..."     "Stop! You are a judgmental ass. You go to strip clubs like a man-w***e. You put big money into a thong and assume a dancer is a hooker. YOU are the problem. Not me, and English Lit major at CU; not Julia, a responsible mom doing her best. You. You are the problem. You misogynistic ass, who values a flap of membrane over a person." I turned my back on him and moved two seats away.     Enrique slammed the rest of his drink and went to the bathroom.  I sipped my margarita and and released my irritation with a sigh. Poor Candi. All she wanted was to be herself. I went to have another sip, but my glass was empty.  I poured a fresh drink from the pitcher, but when I turned to sit down, my arm was grabbed tightly, spilling my drink down the front of my blouse.     "Please, help me. You have to save me from a fate worse than death."