Recap of the latest mishap: Olivia has found a beautiful wedding dress, Mike has begun filming and Jane - in an effort to regain her ex's affection- has used a public pay phone to threaten him with stalking and murder, all by accident, of course.
“Time for a bachelorette party,” Jane hooted as the door to the bridal shop closed behind them. Olivia was cradling her sleeping son in her arms. Mike was dragging the camera, exhausted.
Behind them, Selma, the owner of the bridal shop, was closing up for the night. She held the long, beautiful dress that Olivia had chosen in one hand as she locked the shop’s front door with the other.
Much to Jane’s relief, Selma had opted to move the pile of discarded wedding dresses – the ones that were hiding Jane’s puke – tomorrow.
“What do you mean - a bachelorette party?” Olivia said quietly over her son. “Jane honey, it’s hours past Dougie’s bedtime. I feel terrible that he actually fell asleep in the store. In a chair. Where so many other people’s butts have been! Can’t imagine what that did to his spine. I really need to get him home to bed.”
“Mike could do it. Mike could take the kid home, put him to bed. He’s got some kids of his own, so he’s a pro at this. He probably knows lullabyes and shit. Kids are easy, and resilient!”
“Jane, not all kids are easy. Dougie just met me today,” Mike reminded her. “How would you feel if some man you just met was putting you to bed. Wait… that logic doesn’t apply to you.”
“Oh my God, this is ridiculous! I’m trying to be a good maid of honor here. I need you people to work with me. The kid will be fine, let’s just grab some drinks. There’s a bar right over there, for crying out loud.”
For the slightest moment, Olivia paused, deep in thought. Jane saw her opportunity. There was a part of Olivia, Jane knew, that missed the old days of getting so drunk that you left shoes and pieces of clothing in various bar restrooms or at bus stops.
She had a kid now and sure, she loved the kid, Jane guessed. But surely there was a small part of Olivia’s soul that longed to be molested by the eyeballs of construction workers who had been drinking since dinner. And possibly before dinner. Possibly drinking since lunch.
“That’s it – we’re going to that bar right over there. Mike, take Georgie – "
“Dougie,” Mike corrected her.
“Take this little kid here and hit the road. Me and Olivia are going to get this party started. And Selma too.”
Selma looked shocked. “Oh no, darling, I don’t drink.”
“Well, you will tonight,” Jane laughed loudly. “Let’s go."
Olivia hesitantly placed her sleeping son in the car seat and kissed his forehead. “Mike, our home address is in the GPS under ‘home.’ Here are the keys. The house is a ranch – all one level – and his bedroom is the first door on the left. Turn on his baby monitor. Oh and there’s a white noise machine right by his…”
Jane yanked Olivia from behind and dragged her sputtering into the bar.
“I’m just going to hit the road, myself,” Selma called out. But Jane grabbed her by the fanny pack.
“Nope, you’re making this new bride’s dreams come true, sister,” Jane announced. “And you’re buying the first round.”
The bar was a dark, dingy place that smelled of fear, sweat and the broken dreams of men who just wanted girlfriends with big hooters to sleep with, but instead had found psycho-bitches with big asses and had married them. There were about 12 men sitting in chairs near tables or with their bellies up to the bar. There were two or three busted women meandering around or hanging off the guys like wet towels. But as Jane scanned the room, she could see there was no female competition.
“Yoohoo! Bartender! Three tequila shots!” Jane yelled out.
“I have diabetes,” Selma whispered loudly.
“Well tonight, you can pretend that you don’t have diabetes,” Jane shrugged.
“You can’t pretend diabetes away.”
“Ok, let’s talk about something fun instead of being such a Debbie Downer,” Jane snapped. “So I see they have darts. Let’s do shots and play darts. Oh! Keno!”
“I don’t think drinking and playing darts is such a good idea,” Selma said quietly.
“Here are the shots,” Jane said, ignoring her. “And here’s the bill, Selma.”
Jane ushered Olivia away from the bar, leaving the bridal shop owner to study the damp slip of paper.
“So let’s look for guys to hook up with,” she whispered excitedly. “Tonight, I think I’ll look for a tall dude to do. Somebody in a flannel shirt with a big old beard. Haven’t had one of those types in a while. Bottoms up!”
Olivia looked embarrassed but gulped the shot with her friend. Her cheeks turned rosy and she giggled.
“Jane, I can’t do anyone. I’m getting married, you goof. There’s only one guy I want to do and he’s not in this bar. Actually, even if I didn’t have a fiancé I wouldn’t want to do anyone this bar. The air is ripe with herpes!”
Jane took a look at the livestock. At the bar, some men were standing, mouths agape at some sports game playing on the television. There was a short guy who resembled a bowling ball with an unruly reddish beard and a baseball cap. He was probably in his 30’s but could have passed for close-to-death. Another guy looked to be a kid in his 20’s with a nice meth face going on and missing teeth that added to the sexiness. An old guy was unconscious, his head down on one arm, a gray rat’s tail peeking out. The pickings were slim, very slim.
Then Jane saw him- a tall, lanky, black haired guy standing up against the wall. His jeans hung low, he wore a graphic tee and looked scruffy, or possibly just dirty, around the jaw line. His wet, brown eyes, framed with thick eyelashes, locked on Jane’s and instantly she knew she’d found restroom romp number one for the night.
“I just found my part-time lover, thank you Lionel Richie,” Jane whispered to Olivia. “Now I’m going to go reign in a friend of his and the four of us will party. I’ve got pharmaceutical drugs.”
“What about Selma?” Olivia asked, wide-eyed.
“She can find her own drugs. She’s diabetic or something.”
