Cleopatra and Frankenstein(32)

“Zo! Zo! Is this guy bothering you?”

Cleo and Audrey were trotting down the street after her, arm in arm.

“Dude, can you step away from her?” said Audrey. “Invasive, much?”

“We’re just talking,” he said, opening his palms.

Audrey grabbed Zoe’s arm and pulled her toward them. “Do you know how old she is?”

“She’s twenty-one,” muttered Cleo between her teeth. “The legal age. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” said Audrey quickly. “But, like, a young twenty-one.”

“Exactly,” said Cleo, turning back to the door guy. “Which I’m guessing you’re not.”

“And by the way, we know the owner,” added Audrey. “So … yeah, don’t mess with us.”

The door guy lit a cigarette and inhaled, laughing softly to himself as smoke escaped his mouth. He looked Zoe in the eye and flicked his tongue up against his top lip.

“You know where to find me,” he said.

“Gross,” Audrey mumbled under her breath.

Zoe was relieved not to have to deliver a suitably outraged response to this, since the two girls were shepherding her back up the street toward the bar. Cleo paused in the entranceway and turned to Audrey.

“We know the owner?” she asked. “Who is it?”

“No idea,” said Audrey. “But we could, you know?”

They looked at each other and laughed. Cleo turned to Zoe, her face serious again. “You okay, Zo? You want us to get you a cab home?”

She considered it. The thought of being alone in her apartment suddenly seemed incredibly unappealing. She realized, to her surprise, that she wanted to stay.

“Absolutely not,” said Audrey, answering for her. “Taking a dress like that home before eleven? We simply won’t allow it.”

“Come dance with us,” said Cleo in a singsong. “You might actually have fun.”

In spite of herself, Zoe smiled. It really was a fabulous dress, despite the trouble it was causing her.

“But I don’t have any money,” she said.

“We can fish!” said Audrey brightly.

“We don’t need to fish.” Cleo grinned and shook her bag. “I have Frank’s credit card.”

Zoe thought about saying something cutting to this, then let it go. At least she could get some free drinks out of it. Audrey whooped and threw her arms around each of their necks as they made their way toward the bar.

“Do you know what this is, ladies?” she yelled over the music. “It’s a motherfucking girls’ night out!”

Zoe never did find her friends that night, but it didn’t matter. The next few hours were a joyful swirl of drinking and dancing. To her surprise, she loved being in the protective sphere of the older girls, who laughingly eschewed the clumsy advances of any man who tried to talk to them and protected her in a sandwich of their bodies.

She had never had a group of close female friends. She usually had one person she was close to, a sidekick really, on rotation. These tended to be introverted, mousy girls with dreams of social greatness, who inevitably idol-worshipped Zoe. She knew that she was prettier than most girls and had accepted some time ago that the price of beauty was that she would always be a little bit lonely. It didn’t seem like the worst deal to her. But now, in the warm fold of Cleo and Audrey’s attention, she wondered if she had been missing out.

At 2:00 a.m. the night peaked, and the trio decided to head back to Cleo and Frank’s place. Zoe was sitting with Audrey on the large fire escape learning how to roll the perfect joint when Cleo clambered out, her arms laden with colorful Popsicles.

“I raided the freezer,” she said. “It’s too hot to eat anything else.”

“Amen,” said Audrey, expertly licking the rolling paper. She pinched the tip and shook down the blunt into a smooth, plump cylinder.

Across the street below, a trio of finance-looking guys in rolled shirtsleeves stopped to stare up at them, nudging each other.

Wow ladies, looking good! Where’s the party tonight? You wanna let us up?

“Sure!” yelled Audrey. “But you have to guess the password first!”

The men started laughing.

Open sesame! Abracadabra!

“Sorry, fuckers,” yelled Audrey. “Keep it moving.”

The men waited to see if she was joking. Once it was clear she was not, one of them shook his fist over his crotch at them as they wandered away.

“Charming,” said Cleo.

Zoe laughed. “So what was the password?”

Audrey lit the joint and took a deep pull. “Get-the-Fuck-Away-from-Me-You-Rich-White-Cunts,” she said on the exhale.

“You know, I think that was their next guess,” said Cleo.

Audrey shook her head. “White men in this country think they can do anything they like.”

“Now would probably be a good time to tell you Audrey hates white people,” said Cleo.

“Mostly just the men,” said Audrey. “But yeah, they all have the potential to be assholes.”

“I feel you, girl,” said Zoe, then looked to Cleo quickly to make sure she wasn’t offended.

Cleo raised her hands in surrender. “No disagreements.”

“I don’t think white women like me much,” said Zoe. She stopped to think about this. “Or any women, for that matter.”