Chapter Text
“Talk about a real Monday kind of Friday,” Tara mumbled to herself as she sat on the couch, looking up at the popcorn ceiling of the apartment she shared with Sam.
She pushed the carpet corner up and let it flop back down over and over in the way that Sam told her not to do because it would warp the carpet. Good thing Sam wasn’t home yet to stop her.
She got out of classes early, but goddamn if today wasn’t a bitch and a half. She’d bombed out on her linear algebra presentation today even though she spent days preparing for it. She had even run it through with Sam a couple of times even though she had no clue what on earth Tara was on about.
Sam even googled what linear algebra was and the topics in the presentation just to be able to ask Tara some questions that she might be asked on presentation day.
She felt so ready, but when she went up, it was like her IQ dropped to that of a potato. Like her head was empty.
As charismatic as she was, public speaking was the only thing she couldn’t handle.
She groaned in frustration, picking up a pillow and placing it on her face.
Tara wasn’t sure how long she kept that pillow on her face, but at some point, she heard the locks on the door moving. She didn’t budge.
The door opened, and she heard Sam come in, take off her shoes, place her bag on the little bench by the door, place her hard-won tips from her diner job in the jar on the counter and plop down on the couch with a sigh.
“Bad day?” Sam asked, feeling genuinely tired. So tired that the feeling leaked into her bones.
Tara could only groan in response.
“Yeah, me too. I’m beat,” Sam replied.
Tara groaned.
She heard Sam pick up a pillow of her own. She figured that she was doing the same thing that she was.
Sometimes, you just need to put a pillow over your face and ignore the world for a bit.
Tara let herself wallow for a bit, but the more she did, the more she realized that she didn’t want to.
Fuck feeling sorry for myself. I want to go out and have some fun. That’s the best way to get out of this stupid funk
, she thought.
She sat up, looking over at Sam.
Sam wasn’t kidding when she said she was exhausted. It looked like the weight of the world had settled like lead on her shoulders. That simply would not do.
The atmosphere in that apartment was too much of a bummer and Tara wouldn’t stand for it.
She checked her watch. It was 3 pm.
Eh, that’s not an issue , Tara thought as she stood. “Right, no more sitting in this house waiting for the sun to eat the earth or whatever. We’re going out,” she announced.
Sam pulled the pillow from her face and set it on her lap. She hardly moved. Instead, she settled on giving Tara one of her patented ‘are you kidding me?’ looks.
“Oh come on, sour puss. You need to get up and move. Get that blood flowing!” Tara insisted.
Sam let out a sigh, “Tara, I’ve been on my feet all day. I’m exhausted.”
She wasn’t wrong. Sam’s shift had started at 5 am that morning. Of course she was tired. But still!
“That’s no way to act! It’s Friday! Let’s go out and do something!” Tara said, trying to coax Sam into seeing things her way. She was not ready to give this up and she knew she could wear her down if she tried.
Now it was Sam’s turn to groan as she sat up, rubbing her temples.
She was not in the mood.
Then she asked, “Alright, party animal, what do you want to do?”
“We need to go to a bar. You look like you need a drink and I know I need one,” Tara replied without hesitation, heading to the door and already starting to put on her socks.
“Tara–” Sam began, “it’s 3 pm. We can’t drink now!”
“Says who?” Tara shot back with a mischievous grin.
She could feel it in her bones. She was close to getting Sam to come with her. She just had a little farther to go.
“Says me!” Sam insisted, but she knew it was no use. This argument was lost already.
“Tell that to the people in Margaritaville,” Tara replied with a fond smile.
“You and your Jimmy Buffett. You listen to him for one day and you’re suddenly ready to trade in your tee shirt for a tropical dad-on-vacation-style-shirt and flipflops,” Sam quipped dryly, trying to hold back a laugh at the image of Tara in that ridiculous outfit, dad shorts and all.
“Oh come on! Live a little, Sam! It’s five o’clock somewhere. We could use a break, right?” Tara said, hopping around on one foot, trying not to slip as she tried to get her other sock on. Sure, she could sit and put it on, but where’s the fun in that?
Sam watched on in amusement as Tara struggled with her sock. Then she sighed, heading into their shared room.
“Where are you going, grumpy?” Tara called to her as she put on her coat.
Sam, who was looking through her clothes drawer for a fresh shirt and pants that didn’t smell like pickle juice, yelled back, “I’m changing my clothes and then we’ll go.” She could already feel herself regretting this, but did she really have a choice in the matter? Not really. She couldn’t very well let Tara go to a bar alone.
And who knew? Maybe a drink would do both of them some good.
She emerged from their room in a black tee shirt and black jeans. She sat on the bench by the door then and put on her boots.
And she sticks the landing! I knew I could get her to cave! Tara thought, mentally giving herself a high five.
“Wow, love the stage hand chic look,” Tara commented dryly from her spot leaning against the door, the bottom of one foot flush with the door.
Sam glared at her but with no real malice, as she finished tying her shoes and reached for her leather jacket. “Ready?” she asked.
“Yuppers! Let’s hit the road!” Tara smiled as she opened the door.
“Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?” Sam murmured to herself as she closed the door behind her, locking all five locks on their door.
“Fun! You’ve gotten yourself into fun!” Tara called from down the hall by the elevator bank.
“Yeah. We’ll see about that,” Sam said dryly, shoving her keys into her pocket and heading in Tara’s direction.
After a good 20 minutes or so of walking, they arrived at a bar called The Tipsy Turtle.
The bar was old, and bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There were pool tables way in the back. There were some restaurant tables there too, where patrons were eating and having a beer. There was an old jukebox in the corner. Ironically, at that particular second, it was playing Joe Diffie’s “Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox if I Die.” The windows let some beams of light shine in. They could see the ebbs of dust there. It smelled like booze in there, but that was a given. They were in a bar after all.
You can put my mind at ease if you fill my last request
Prop me up beside the jukebox if I die
The best part of the Tipsy Turtle was that there was a little stage towards the front where karaoke was hosted on Fridays from happy hour until closing. That little fact, one Tara learned when she saw the faded chalk sign out front (one Sam thankfully didn’t see), gave her a brilliant idea that she was not about to clue Sam in on until she could set her plan in motion.
Lord, I want to go to heaven, but I don't want to go tonight
Fill my boots up with sand, put a stiff drink in my hand
Prop me up beside the jukebox if I die
Sam and Tara went to sit at the bar. In five minutes, they had margaritas in their hands, which, naturally, was Tara’s idea.
“Thanks a lot, Jimmy Buffett. One day of listening to you and my little sister has gone full-blown Parrothead…” Sam grumbled, taking a sip of her drink, not totally sold on the whole ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ idea just yet.
“What was that?” Tara asked, clearly teasing her.
“Nothing…” Sam answered before she whispered, “Parrothead.” Under her breath.
Tara laughed, “Trust me. Give the margaritas some time to get into your system and I promise you’ll feel better.”
“God I hope so. Today sucked,” Sam complained.
“Don’t worry. Trust me!” Tara smiled.
“I think trusting you was my first mistake,” Sam replied sarcastically.
“You won’t be thinking that way in a bit. Now, drink up,” Tara encouraged.
“You’re a terrible influence, you know that, right?” Sam joked, obliging and taking a long sip of her drink. She had to admit that it tasted good. It was nice and cold.
“You won’t think that once you’re under the influence,” Tara crowed, taking a sip of her own drink. She looked around the bar. “You up for a game of pool?” she asked, using her thumb to point behind her.
A mischievous smile spread across Sam’s face, “you bet. I’m gonna kick your butt too!”
“That’s the spirit!” Tara encouraged her, beaming.
This was going exactly as planned.
Sam always beat Tara at pool. That’s why she suggested playing in the first place. She didn’t mind getting curb-stomped in the game if it meant that it would make Sam happy. She needed this.
Tara felt herself feeling better as the alcohol began to leach into her blood, making her feel looser and freer. She liked the feeling. Honestly, she would have been fine with a few drinks, but the extra joy came from watching Sam’s smile as she got each of her balls into the right pockets and her light teasing when Tara miserably failed, missing her solid colour ball entirely, getting the white ball in the pocket instead.
This first game was close. Tara wasn’t playing as badly as she typically did. She figured that Sam might want at least a decent challenge, and Tara was willing to give it to her.
The neck and neck game didn’t stay that way for long as Sam got more of her balls in until finally, “Eight ball, top left pocket,” Sam called as she readied her stick and jammed it into the white ball. The white ball rolled across the table, smacking the eight ball, which started its journey to the top left pocket, the white ball on its heels.
For a second, Tara thought she might win if the white ball followed the eight ball into the hole, but no such luck.
The black eight ball dropped in, the white ball sitting precariously close to the edge of the pocket, “Close but no cigar, little!” Sam crowed, putting her stick down like a staff triumphantly.
Tara laughed and Sam took a bow before doing a very tiny, very her victory dance, already feeling much better.
Sam would think that her better feeling would be to her own chagrin because Tara was right, but she just didn’t care. She liked feeling good and she wasn’t going to let her own stubbornness hold her back. Of course, that didn’t mean that she’d admit it either. She’d need another drink or two before she gave Tara the satisfaction.
However, the look of happiness on Tara’s face as Sam smiled at her own victory told her that she didn’t need to tell Tara she was feeling good.
“Good game, Sam. Another round?” Tara asked.
“Of pool or drinks?” Sam inquired, holding up her empty glass and pointing to Tara’s.
“Both,” Tara said, “I’m on it.”
“Great. I’ll set up the table!” Sam said, getting the triangle rack and fishing all the balls out of the pockets.
They played three more rounds. Tara was nil for four. Not that she minded. She was as happy as a clam.
By the time they finished, happy hour had begun.
Sam opted to grab a table to take a break from kicking the crap out of her little sister in pool, and Tara headed back to the bar to get another round of drinks, this time, rum and cokes.
Her impaired mind told her that it might be better to stick with that on the off chance that they wouldn’t feel it too, too much in the morning.
While she was at the bar, she took advantage of Sam’s obliviousness to set her plan in motion.
This was going to be very, very fun.
They settled at the table with their drinks and Sam ordered cheese fries.
Tara agreed, cheese fries made good drunk food.
When the fries came, they happily sat there eating and chatting idly. It seemed that for the time being, their bad, exhausting days had been forgotten, replaced with joy and levity.
It was a nice departure. It’s not like this happened a lot.
Goddamn did they need this break.
In a short time, while they chatted, the host of the happy hour karaoke jumped on stage and started calling people up.
Sam and Tara just sat there with their drinks and fries, enjoying the free entertainment.
Some people were actually really good. There was one woman who sang “Lovefool” by The Cardigans. They got the whole bar singing along with them.
Love me, love me
Say that you love me
Leave me, leave me
Just say that you need me
I can't care 'bout anything but you
Sam and Tara sang along, tapping their feet.
There was loud applause for her after they finished.
Then there were some truly tone-deaf people, like this one guy who sang “Valarie” by Amy Winehouse, who was so out of tune, even with the whole bar singing along, trying to help him.
Won't you come on over?
Stop makin' a fool out of me
Why don't you come on over, Valerie?
Valerie
Valerie
Valerie
“Oof!” Sam laughed as he missed a note so spectacularly that it made Sam wonder how in the world it was possible to be that off.
“No kidding!” Tara snorted, unable to keep her composure as she sang along through giggles.
The rest of the bar was in the same boat, but this guy was either too drunk to care or had superhuman levels of confidence.
As Tara listened to Sam sing along, she felt her own anticipation growing. She had to work exceptionally hard not to laugh at her plan.
She couldn’t help feeling giddy as the plan came closer and closer to coming to fruition until the host called out, “Okay! Up next we have Sam and Tara! Give them a round of applause!”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. This could not be happening. “Oh Tara, you didn’t!” she asked, alarmed as Tara tugged her out of her chair and dragged her toward the stage.
“Oh, yes, I did, and you’re not getting out of it!” Tara teased.
“Am I naked? Usually, when I have this nightmare, I’m naked,” Sam said hurriedly under her breath.
She pinched herself.
Nope, she was awake and this was really happening.
“Jesus Christ, Tara!” Sam hissed as she looked out at the sea of people in the bar, all their eyes fixed on them.
Tara didn’t seem bothered at all, which bugged Sam for a moment because she knew Tara had a fear of public speaking.
She supposed they didn’t call alcohol liquid courage for nothing.
Had she known this was going to happen, she would have had more to drink.
The host handed them both a mic and said to Sam, “Woah, you look like a deer in headlights.”
Sam gave him a look, “Thanks,” she deadpanned.
“Just try to have fun with it!” he said, trying to encourage her, giving her a small smile.
Sam leaned over to whisper in Tara’s ear, “You’re so gonna get it when we get home.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut it and sing, sis. You’ll have fun. Trust me.” Tara said, waiting for the song to start.
Sam rolled her eyes but obliged as the song began.
She knew the song instantly. Tara had picked “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere”, the one with Alan Jackson and of course, Jimmy Buffett. God, her sister really had turned into a Parrothead.
Tara started to sing and Sam kept her mouth clamped shut. She figured she’d let Tara keep the first verse all to herself and she could do the chorus with Tara and the second verse once she got her panic under control.
That sun is hot and that old clock is moving slow
And so am I
The workday passes like molasses in wintertime
But it's July
I'm getting paid by the hour and older by the minute
Tara’s voice came out soft and sweet, and perfectly on key. Much better than the guy who sang Valerie.
Just before Tara got to the last line, she shot Sam a look that said, ‘you ready?’
Sam braced herself, taking a deep breath.
My boss just pushed me over the limit
She nodded.
I'd like to call him something, but I think I'll just call it a day
She jumped right in with the harmony, feet first. It was like jumping into a cold pool.
Pour me something tall and strong
Make it a hurricane before I go insane
Hey, we sound good together, Sam thought as they went, her harmony mixing perfectly with Tara’s singing.
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care
It's five o'clock somewhere
Then she launched into the next verse, trying her best to keep her composure as Tara left her to sing it alone.
But she wasn’t really alone.
Well this lunchbreak is gonna take all afternoon
And half the night
Tomorrow morning I know there'll be hell to pay
Hey, but that's alright
Sam had the whole bar singing with her, and she started to feel better.
She even started to smile, really feeling the lyrics as she sang.
I ain't had a day off now in over a year
My Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here
If the phone is for me you can tell 'em I just sailed away
Then they got back to the chorus again, Tara coming back in and Sam shifting up to sing the high part of the harmony.
The crowd cheered for them and sang with them while Sam and Tara settled into a little swaying dance.
Sam took the next part, leaving the part she knew was coming for Tara, the budding Parrothead.
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab
And be back to work before two
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder
Sam pointed at Tara.
What would Jimmy Buffett do?
Tara jumped in, and went for it, grinning.
At her enthusiasm, Sam couldn’t help but smile more.
“Funny you should ask that, I’d say…”
She launched into the chorus solo and the crowd cheered for her.
They finished the last verse together and bowed and the bar broke into applause, whooping and congratulating them as they got off stage and headed back to their table.
Once they were back, Tara said, “See? Was that so bad?”
“No…” Sam answered quietly, jokingly annoyed.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Tara teased, a smug look on her face, mockingly cupping a hand to her ear.
“Oh shush. You know I had fun,” Sam shot back, jokingly annoyed.
“Ha, ha! I was right!” Tara crowed, a wide dimpled smile on her face.
Tara was so glad that Sam had fun. Yeah, it took her a second, but she knew that she would warm up to it eventually.
“Yes, you were,” Sam admitted, unable to hide her grin at seeing how happy Tara was.
Even if performing scared the ever-loving shit out of her, she would do it for Tara to make her happy.
That and on some level, she really did enjoy herself.
“One more round?” Sam asked as she stood.
“Sure, why not,” Tara said.
Sam nodded and went to get them one last rum and coke and paid the bill. While she was up at the bar, she also whispered something to the host, who nodded and wrote something down.
“Alright, here we are!” Sam announced as she placed the drinks down.
“Great! Thanks, Sam,” Tara said, taking her drink and taking a sip before taking up a fry and eating it. “Best fries ever.”
“No kidding,” Sam agreed, taking one herself and munching on it.
This was one of those times where Sam was glad that she had a good poker face. She didn’t want to give away what she’d said to the host until it was too late for Tara to stop her.
Several songs, finished drinks, and polished-off fries later, the host called out, “Alright, here they come again! Please welcome Sam and Tara back to the stage!”
Tara gawked at her as she stood.
Sam held out her hand to Tara, “Come on, little. One for the road and all that,” She said.
Tara took her hand, still shocked as they headed up to the stage.
“I can’t believe you went for it again! On your own!” Tara exclaimed.
“Well, you had so much fun the first time–” Sam started.
Tara cut her off, “
We
had so much fun the first time,” Tara corrected.
“Yeah, sure. Use the royal ‘we’...” Sam said dryly as they were handed mics. “Ready Parrothead? I picked this for you,” Sam whispered in Tara’s ear as the first notes began.
Sam had picked “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes” by Jimmy Buffett.
Tara smiled when she heard the song begin.
She really liked this one, but she let Sam start with the first verse, figuring that she could jump in for the pre-chorus and the chorus.
I took off for a weekend last month
Just to try and recall the whole year
All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin' where they all disappeared
Then Tara jumped in,
I didn't ponder the question too long
I was hungry and went out for a bite
Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum
And we wound up drinkin' all night
At that last line, the whole bar cheered and, those who had a drink all took a drink together.
Then they got to the chorus, and the bar joined in.
It's those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
The bar all shouted the last line of the chorus, the feeling cathartic because it was the truth.
If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane
They kept singing, and Tara watched Sam, who seemed to be enjoying herself much more this time around.
She was so glad that she came around properly and the last song wasn’t just a fluke.
Together, they swayed to the beat and led the bar in what was basically a sing-along.
As they reached the last portion of the song, she and Sam sang together in harmony.
Oh, yesterdays are over my shoulder
So I can't look back for too long
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just can't go wrong
Tara loved that part. That’s how she saw things, and in this moment, it seemed like Sam saw things that way too.
“Everybody!” Tara called as they headed into the last chorus.
With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn't laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we weren’t crazy we would all go insane
The whole bar cheered for them as they bowed and left the stage again.
“I can’t believe you did that!” Tara said to Sam as they collected their coats, headed for the back door, and out into the night of New York City, the lights looked like they were coming through a star filter. They were so pretty.
“Eh, I didn’t mind. It made you happy,” Sam answered nonchalantly as they stumbled their way home, for sure tipsy and on their way to drunk. Then, “That was fun.”
“I know. I told you it would be,” Tara said, holding onto Sam’s arm as they walked unsteadily home.
“Thank you for making me go,” Sam whispered.
Tara gave Sam a small smile, “Any time.”
After a slightly longer walk back to their apartment, accounting for a slower, not sober pace, they made it back, Sam unlocking the door and letting them into the warm space.
Immediately, she made a beeline for the fridge, leaving Tara to close the door behind them and lock it.
“Whatcha looking for?” Tara asked as she clumsily took off her shoes.
“Food,” Sam answered, her voice muffled as she stuck her head in the fridge, looking for something with uncoordinated fingers and laggy vision.
“Duh. I mean, which food, silly!” Tara laughed, coming over to stand with Sam at the fridge.
“Can you get some plates?” Sam asked loudly from inside the fridge, unaware that Tara was right behind her.
“I’m right here, Sam,” Tara complained.
Sam pulled her head out of the fridge, almost hitting her head on the freezer door. She couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles as Tara feigned rubbing her ear as if it were ringing. “Whoops! Sorry, Tara!”
“You’re good,’ Tara said, knowing that Sam was getting drunker by the second and so was she.
She walked to the cabinet and got on her tiptoes to grab the paper plates.
Sam pulled out some leftover Chinese food and set out portions on the plates. Orange chicken, stir-fried rice, dumplings, and some boneless spare ribs.
She popped one into the microwave while Tara made herself comfy on the couch, under a big black fuzzy blanket.
Minutes later, Sam brought over the food with two forks and sat with Tara.
In her haze, she’d forgotten to get something to drink. As she started to stand to get something for them, Tara stood, “I got it. You sit.”
Sam nodded, digging into her food. For whatever reason, she was starving.
Tara reappeared with glasses of water. She knew that if they were going to be okay in the morning, they’d need it.
Granted, it was more for Sam than her. Tara had a stupidly high tolerance, but even she was feeling the booze.
Sam, on the other hand, was for sure feeling it way more…
She watched Sam as she tried and failed three times to spear a piece of orange chicken on her fork before giving up and picking up the piece and eating it that way.
Sam may be her strong, put-together big sister, but nothing took her down faster than a few well-mixed drinks.
Tara held back laughter as best she could, snickering quietly, while Sam tried to eat her spare ribs next, the food running away from her fork as she tried to spear it.
“I know you’re laughing at me…” Sam said without looking up from her plate. She was concentrating so hard that her tongue poked out from between her lips, her brow furrowed.
Once Sam had that expression on her face, there was no holding back laughter.
“Oh hush, you!” Sam retorted, looking up at Tara with a pout that dissolved into a smile. She patted around her on the couch then, searching for the remote. “Here, take this and put something on.”
Tara turned on the TV and clicked through the channels until she landed on Friends.
That would do just fine.
Over the course of an episode, they finished their food and Sam pulled the blanket that Tara had over herself, gesturing for Tara to join her.
Tara did, snuggling into Sam as they watched TV. The safety of the moment, the booze, and the late hour all made Tara sleepy. Judging by the slowing of her breathing, Sam must have been tired too.
“You really had fun tonight?” Tara asked quietly, listening to Sam’s strong, steady heartbeat.
“Yeah, I really did. Thank you,” Sam replied as her eyes fluttered shut, her arm around Tara.
“Good,” Tara replied with a yawn as she fell asleep with a smile.
She made Sam happy today. She did her job.