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Gina didn’t know what time it was, she knew that she’d had a few drinks and that she was frustrated. None of the men around here looked even remotely acceptable for her to take back to her place, which meant meaningless sex was absolutely out of question. She may be a little tipsy, but she wasn’t going to ruin her reputation like that. She may have sent Rosa a text though. She was not entirely sure what she'd done, her memory was also getting a little tipsy.
Gina’s phone vibrated in her hand:
1:06 AM: Sup. Rosa?
1:10 AM: Be right there. Don’t move.
*
Some guys were leaving the bar and one of them yelled something at Rosa, she resisted the urge to break his neck and went look for Gina. If it had been anyone else both texting and calling her at this time, she would have ignored them all together, switched off her phone, gone straight back to sleep and reminded herself to send them a threat they’d never forget the next day. But even in her half-asleep state, she knew it was Gina Linetti, not because of Gina’s wonderful telepathic abilities like she sometimes claimed to have, but because the blonde had somehow managed to change her ringtone on Rosa’s phone to a recording of her own voice saying “It’s time to answer to your higher calling” over and over again. (Rosa made a mental note to interrogate her about this later.)
Gina was sequestered over in a booth near the door, she was sitting with her back to the door (rookie mistake) and she’d got a half-finished beer in front of her.
“Let’s go.” Rosa said grudgingly as she approached.
“Oh, heeeey. How did you find me?” Gina turned around, fake-gasped, “Did you stalk me? Am I that famous?”
Rosa rolled her eyes. If there were a camera filming them right now, it would zoom in on Rosa’s face just to better capture the depth of her exasperation. “Gina, you were tweeting the whole time.”
The tweets, Rosa recalled, went something like this: “Although I do feel,” face with x’s for eyes. “I can assure everyone that tomorrow, Gina Linetti will soar again.” Rocket, rocket, flexing arm, fire. Gina didn’t mention in her tweets what her “personal tragedy” was, just that it was “devastating” and “part of being a celebrity”, but Rosa guessed it must have been the audition for some dance troupe Gina got so psyched up about the other day.
She had half a thought to read the tweets back to Gina in a monotone just to prove her point, but seeing Gina’s current state, Rosa shelved the idea. Her voice was soft and quiet when she spoke again, “Come on, let’s get you home.”
*
Rosa paid for the drinks, waited patiently for Gina to shuffle out of her booth, she even held the door open for her. It was all kind of gross. But given that Gina was looking more than a little tipsy, she probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyway.
“I see chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Gina smiled weakly at Rosa as she walked out the door, “But all my hopes and dreams sure are.”
Rosa shook her head. She was melodramatic.
They rode on her motorcycle in absolute silence to Gina’s house. Neither of them mentioned how Rosa knew where Gina lived, which Rosa was grateful for.
*
“Okay, sit down, and drink this.” Rosa handed Gina a glass of water she’d just fished out from Gina’s kitchen. She waited, marveling at Gina’s hoard of art; there were all kinds of sculptures and paintings and almost all of which included at least a predator, some naked women, or naked women posing with predators.
Rosa turned to Gina as she remembered something and made a generic gesture, “And uh, do you need to get all that stuff off your face?”
“You mean my make-up?”
“Yeah.”
Gina cracked a smile at that and disappeared into her bathroom. Rosa was left alone and awkward, not knowing how to comfort her with words or at all. After mulling it over, she decided to grab the wolf blanket lying haphazardly on the couch and moved it to the bed. Rosa figured Gina would feel a bit nicer if she had her Wolfie.
“Aw, Wolfie.” Gina emerged in her silk robe and sat down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around her, “It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of my failure.”
“Oh, come on. If this is about your dance thing, you know those dummies made a big mistake, right?”
Gina looked up at that. They shared an uncomfortably long moment in which Rosa tried her best not to break eye contact first, so Gina knew she meant what she’d said. Finally, Gina smiled and it felt like a weight had just been lifted off Rosa’s shoulders, “Thank you.”
“Moment’s over. Now sleep.”