3
Amber“Look at all the pretty colors,” Foxfire cries over the noise of the band. She turns slowly on her barstool before catching herself on our table, doubling over and laughing. Then she makes a swipe for my drink.
“Whoa there, sister.” I hold my cosmo out of reach. I’ve been nursing it since I got here, out of solidarity to my grieving friend. Alcohol this soon after a monster headache episode is a bad idea.
“Sam, I need another one!” Apparently, she thinks she’s on a first-name basis with the bartender.
I catch his eye and give a small shake of my head, and he ignores her. “I think it’s time we switched to water.”
Foxfire pouts and shakes her head before barking with laughter again.
Let the record reflect: When liquoring up a friend so she can forget her ex, make sure she’s eate
