The humid air is more humidity than air. This new colorful outfit shows off my bronze-ish legs, and I am -once again- covered in a layer of wet. I have no idea if it’s the wet air clinging to me or my body sweat or a mixture of both but, baby, it’s wet outside. And hot.
Reed sways her hips into her white fitted linen shorts as she descends the stairs ahead of me, moving to the beat of the sexy Latin music that’s filling the thick air.
We walk along manicured trails, crossing bridges over lazy rivers, chasing the sound we hear echoing from the outdoor entertainment area. Drunk people in swimsuits loiter while couples in cocktail attire walk to dinners. As the music grows louder, the trees part before us to reveal a sea of mingling, drinking and dancing couples clustered around a square bar. There must be a hundred people here, and it’s instantly clear we only have two things in common: we are all sweating and we are all eager to get fucked up without children around us.
“Reed,” I say. Fuck, is my eyelash dripping? Why didn’t I bring waterproof mascara? What kind of a woman am I?
She stops and swings around, smiling. Her wrists go up in the air. “Wasn’t this the best fucking idea I’ve ever had?!!”
I nod. It could quite possibly be.
Reed’s last idea was to fly to Argentina for two days. She did not realize the travel to Argentina was 23hrs. I was like, “Bitch you need to go on a heavy Xanax to Adderall flip to get over that Jet Lag and just go.” Clearly, this idea is better. Quick bender long travel < Quick Bender short travel.
We slide into seats at the bar, and I adjust my boobs. Adjusting boobs is the name of the game once you’ve breastfed children. I lucked out. Diana left me mostly unscathed. My shape is good, but definitely bottom heavy, and that’s a real tough trip with bras. Fuck I hate bras.
“Hola!” A bartender greets us almost as soon as our asses hit the stools. His name tag reads Sergio.
“Hola.” I smile. He smiles; I get on with it, “two triple margaritas”
Reed leans her chin onto her palm and eyes the people behind me at the bar. I don’t even want to turn around to see who she’s looking at. I want to try to read her mind. Maybe the drugs are working.
“Triples are a must,” she nods.
“This is essentially a 24/7 open bar. If we order margaritas at an open bar they will be watered down.”
I turn around and look at the couple behind me. The man is maybe 35, handsome yet average in the eyes. His hair is brown and thinning, he’s wearing a button-down madras-print golf shirt, Dockers. The woman, though, is built like she can carry a lot of shit. She’s six feet tall, and is wearing a black shift dress with her hair swept up into a ponytail.
I turn back to Reed. “She was a volleyball player, right? No… no… look at her, she’s beautiful. She was the captain of her high school volleyball team. Not just a player. She was the leader.”
Reed laughs and Sergio passes us our drinks.
“Reed, where are we going to find weed? I want weed.”
“I told you we should have brought it.”
“In our carry-ons on an International flight?”
“We brought Molly.”
“Molly doesn’t smell like fuck, Reed.”
“You’re right.”
“Sergio?”
I wave him in towards me and Reed. I look at Reed and wiggle closer to the bar. She does the same. I whisper conspiratorially, “Sergio, I left my kids to come to Mexico.”
“Ahhh,” he nods meaningfully. “Triples.”
“Sergio, I know we’ve just met, but I need to find some weed. If this conversation can get you fired, then just walk away and I’ll leave your tip… but if you know where I can get weed that would be chill. It’s legal in California and I’m a spoiled bish.”
Sergio laughs and makes the universal sign for a toke. “La Playa. Look for guys on the beach.”
“You’re an angel.”
Reed nods, “Of course. The ol’ beach drug dealers.”
“Yeah. We should have known that, right? We’ve been to tons of beaches.”
“How many beaches have you been to without Diana in the last ten years?”
“Actually, probably five?”
“That’s sad.”
Suddenly I feel a rush up my arm. The music starts to dig into my ears. All I feel is my body in my chair, relentlessly pulsing to the beat. My arms are out now, elbows bent. I’m punching the air.
“I’m punching the air, Reed.”
“Oh my god.” Reed laughs at me, I’m feeling overwhelmed with joy and good tidings! My body is a marshmallow of love that comes out of my Care Bear stomach. I smile and throw my head back too far and end up doubling backwards and making eye contact with the handsome yet average man at the bar behind me.
“Hello,” I say to the man.
“Hello.”
I sit up and turn around. “Hey. Sorry,” I say to the couple.
“For what? Dancing?” the Volleyball woman asks.
“I’m Reed!” I turn and look at Reed’s pupils and I swear I can see them dilating in the clear and present moment. She is smiling at the couple with her hand outstretched and they shake hands.
I down my plastic cup of pure tequila, using my teeth as a colander to strain out the ice, and ask the woman who is built like she can carry a ton of shit, “Did you play sports in high school?”
Her head cocks to the side and her ponytail demonstrates the law of gravity. She looks like a glamorous Lauren Bacall with a ponytail and I’m suddenly totally attracted to her.
“I played Volleyball, ” she says. My stomach drops.
“And you were the captain?” I ask.
“Yes? I was.”
Reed grabs my arm too hard and yells, “YOU KNEW IT!”
I swing to her. “I AM FREAKING OUT!”
Handsome average guy speaks up, “she plays for the Netherlands.”
I am fucked and I want to politely get out of this conversation and continue this epic night.
“That’s incredible. Sorry, I guessed you were a volleyball player to my friend earlier and I was right.” I don’t want to explain this at all. I want to be gone. I’m high. The Molly has landed. Gate 1, boarding group A and I have a Group A ticket. Here. We. Go.
I start to turn my body away from the couple, and the Handsome Average guy says, “I thought maybe you were in the dance class earlier.”
“Hold up.” Reed places her hand on the back of Handsome Average’s hand. “There’s a dance class here?”
“10am, every day, right here.”
“Ohhhhhhh, we gotta go, Barbie.”
Sliding off the barstool feels too good on my ass. I love it. I stand up and look at all the other people whose minds I could be reading all the other stools I could be rubbing my ass on. We have so many people to meet. They all seem so nice and chill. I can’t stop dancing.
Reed is off her stool and dancing with me and then I realize something so stupid.
Something we overlooked.
“Reed, we haven’t even seen the ocean yet. The beach is right there. Let’s go.”
She takes my hand, “Holy shit, let’s go.”
My heart is swelling as I lean into the bar, “SERGIO!” Sergio’s head snaps towards me and a warm sweaty smile is already there. My feet feel like soft angels guiding me towards Sergio, as I approach him and put a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.
“I’m also going to need cigarettes because I haven’t pooped in two days,” I say earnestly and matter of factly and most importantly, very seriously.
He laughs, “You don’t need a whole pack. Get one.”
Like a weird ghost, like Pavlov’s dog, like a cursed hypnotized creature, I walk straight towards an older woman. Her long pleated silk vest strokes my arms as she turns around with a lit cigarette in her mouth. Then I see her hair is professionally set in a short cut.
“You are magnificent.” It comes out of my mouth before I can even think to consider whether or not I should say it out loud.
She smiles, “thank you.”
“Look, I’m sorry for interrupting but I havent smoked a cigarette in two days and I’ve been using my vape and I came here to get away from my lovely daughter Diana and just be wild and free, but I think I need a cigarette to poop and really start this trip out right.”
The woman taps her husband and makes some motion with her fingers that I can’t quite recreate as I’m standing there trying to recreate it, her husband passes her a cigarette and she passes it to me.
Iconic.
“Everyone needs to poop, honey. Good luck tonight.”
I could almost cry. I feel like this might be heaven. Everyone is so happy. I am so happy. I turn around and Reed is behind me, dancing. I dance with her as she leads me back over the lazy river bridge. There is a couple under the bridge, they are for sure fucking.
This is Tropicalia, I think… this is a summer camp for adults. The counselors want you to dance and eat and drink and do drugs and fuck in clean sheets and fuck in the lazy river.
Oh my god. The beach. I pull off my violet slides and a moan comes from my lips as I see the white sand beach with torches lit under a starry sky.
I am definitely not going to light this cigarette any time soon.
TO BE CONTINUED…
This is going to be wild and I’m here for it!
Fucking LOVING this. Go off Kelly!!!