Lennon's Jinx by Chris Myers

the 13 th is stabbing my
heart.
    “Group
hug,” Gabby says, enveloping us with her arms.
    We
return to our table where Iz waits for us. Gabby must’ve crowned her the official
coat watcher. Most the time we carry cash and our ids in our pockets, so we
don’t have to lug around our purses. Mine is slung across my chest.
    “I
saw Mr. Can’t Keep It in his Pants.” Iz glances back at Byron. “You can do
better, and we’ll prove it. I got you high octane.” She shoves the drink over to
Rena who inhales it.
    I
don’t want to carry Rena and Iz home.
    A
round of shots comes to our table. Three guys lift their drinks to us. They’re
shy by one so not all of us will get to dance. One guy could play pro ball.
That kind always chases Rena. The other one eyes Gabby.
    Alone
again. I shove my shot to Iz.
    “Are
you sure?” she asks.
    “Positive.”
I try to keep my promises, and drinking excessively ends badly for me.
    “Sure
you’ll be all right,” Rena says before she’s tugged to the pit of sweaty bodies.
    “Always,”
I say. “Someone has to stay and watch our stuff.” I sip on my drink, knowing
this is going to be a long night, but it beats being at home.
    Couples
pack the dance floor. Suits always come here. It’s a treasure trove for up and
coming Chicagoans. I’m not into older guys, though they can at least afford to
take you somewhere decent.
    Rena
dances close to this guy who’s got a solid body. She sways next to him so that
they remind me of molten lava. Half the guys on the floor are watching her
instead of their partners and so is Byron. He leaves his table and threads his
way through the knot of dancers.
    Byron
gracefully cuts in when a slow dance starts. They’re so close they could be banging
on the dance floor if it weren’t for her jeans in the way. I want to strut
right up to him and tell him off, but if Zach were to ask me to dance, Rena
wouldn’t interfere. She knows I’m still in love with him, just like she can’t
get over Byron. Sometimes when you fall, your face gets stuck in the mud, so
that you can’t breathe and you’re trapped in the icky goo. You also don’t get
to choose who you fall for.
    When
the waitress comes by, I ask for a round of waters. She gives me a dirty look
because she won’t get a tip for them. I’m happy when she drops them off because
my mouth is parched. I give her two bucks that she wasn’t expecting for her
troubles.
    A
guy with fair skin stops at my table. He’s okay looking, but the tailored suit
really fits him. “Hi. Can I join you?”
    My
mouth freezes. I involuntarily tremble. I should’ve drunk faster. “It’s a free
country.”
    I
just want to hang my head in shame. It’s like I’m possessed and can’t talk to
guys without half a bottle of liquor in me. I had no problem talking to Zach,
but that’s because we had something in common, our music.
    What’s
wrong with me? I’m deathly afraid of guys unless I’m half-baked.
    The
suit gives me an odd look then continues on his way. Under his breath, he says,
“Bitch.”
    That
probably worked out better for me. Guys that talk that way to girls are creeps.
    Iz
comes back to the table, a sheen of sweat on her forehead from dancing. The guy
she’s with walks back to his table.
    Iz
takes a sip of her drink. “Hey, Tom will dance with you.”
    A
pity party for me. “That’s okay.” I don’t want to drink Iz’s backwash.
    Iz
pours vodka into her glass with little discretion. She’s downing the drink so
fast half of it splashes onto her top. She giggles and swears while she dabs at
it with a napkin.
    A
bouncer sees her and swaggers up to our table. He’s big, Lennon big. “You
ladies need to leave. Now.”
    “Oh
crap,” Iz says. “Can we get our friends first?”
    The
bouncer grabs underneath her arm and lifts her from the chair. “No.”
    Several
other tables glance our way. Heat brushes my cheeks.
    “We
can’t leave their stuff here,” I say. “It’ll walk away if we don’t