I shake my head at her. “Wow, you never cease to amaze me.” The truth is I’m not interested enough in fashion to put much effort into what I wear.

Anna smiles. “I know.”

“I’m going in jeans and a tank top.”

“Whatever, you look beautiful in anything.” She smiles sweetly.

I roll my eyes and go back to the kitchen to stack the bar with more glasses. It’s a busy night and we’re starting to run low. When I come back, I see Anna standing on the other side of the bar, checking her cell phone.

I’ve been away from home for seven years, yet sometimes my mind won’t let me forget my horrible childhood. For some reason, tonight I can’t stop thinking about it. I remember picking up Mom from the local bar and having to put her in the car while she was having a temper tantrum. I could barely drive, and she was yelling and smacking my head. The bartender insisted I come and get her because she was making a scene.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts when I hear Anna say, “Earth to Lexi! Can you take their order or do I have to do it myself?”

“No, Anna, I’m doing it. Geez!”

I stand back up and leave the unstacked glasses on the bar. “Hey, can I get you guys a drink?” I ask, leaning over the bar to display my cleavage and flashing a smile.

I notice one of the guys checking me out. He looks down at my cleavage then back up at my face and says, “How about first you give me your number, then I’ll tell you what I like to drink?”

Is this guy for real? I never hand out my number at the bar. It’s my bartender rule 101. Yes, I take my dates to the backroom for a little fun. But they’re men I’m dating. Besides, the backroom is a public space so it’s sexy and uninhibited. I only do it when Mickey isn’t around and there’s a lock on the door, so no one can walk in.

I’m silent, but he’s persistent. “So will you give me your number? I usually don’t do this, but you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

I smile at him because I don’t want to lose out on tips. “You don’t sound very original there, buddy, and I don’t give my number out at the bar. So, what can I get you to drink?” His earlier cocky smile is gone. With a look of defeat, he mumbles, “I’ll take a Corona. I just gave you a compliment. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I pass him his Corona. He leaves me a twenty and tells me to keep the change. Fifteen dollar tip! Not a bad way to end the evening.

Anna’s gone to the backroom to change, and I head into the bathroom, add some water to tame down my curls, then flip my hair over and shake it out a bit. I run my fingers through it, trying to control my unruly blond locks and slick on some pink lip gloss.

In the foggy mirror, I see Anna walk into the bathroom. I turn my head around quickly. “Holy shit. That is one sexy dress.”

Anna nods. “I know. I plan on getting lucky tonight,” she says, running her hands along her curves and smoothing out her dress.

I burst into laughter. “Like that’s new.”

She purses her lips at me. “Fine. You got me.”

I love her attitude.

We both leave the bathroom. The waitress who’s replacing us gives us a one up, scowling. Our shift ends late, but on this clear night, the stars shine bright and the weather is still warm. We walk down the street, giggling and having fun. The frat party is just around the corner. I hear the music pounding, and as we walk toward the house, I notice some kegs of beer lined up on the front lawn. We walk in, and the party’s already started. Everyone is wasted.

For a long time I didn’t drink because the memory of my mom lying in bed drunk and her wretched screams were burnt into my soul. I drank a bit in high school. But when everything went to hell on prom night, I decided it wasn’t for me. Then one night in undergrad, Anna forced me to get drunk. I liked feeling lightheaded and airy. All my inhibitions were lost for a night and I could care less what the people around me thought. I soon learned that I wasn’t a monster like Mom, just an extra giddy, happy girl who danced really sexily, or so I’ve been told.

I head over to the kitchen, which is outdated with its brown cabinets and beige countertop. It’s dirty and grungy, but what can I expect from a bunch of men living together? A short guy with dark skin and dark brown eyes is lining up shots of tequila. He notices Anna and me walk in and gives us a nod. “Hey girls, would you like one?”

Anna and I stare at each other, and say at the same time, “Sure, thanks.”

We down the shots and walk toward the main foyer of the house. The place is already stuffed with a bunch of extremely drunk people. I see some girls I know from the sorority house and begin chatting with them. They’ve asked me to join the sorority a million times, but it isn’t my thing. I’m not a loner by any means. I just like to call the shots in my life, and in a sorority, everything is about the sisters. It’s too much for me, and besides, I have my sister Ashley, and I’ve got Anna. They’re all I need. Still, it’s fun hanging out, getting drunk, and forgetting.

There’s a swimming pool in the backyard of the frat house. It’s September, so it’s still warm enough at night to go swimming in Toronto. I saunter out back where a bunch of sorority sisters sit beside the pool on lawn chairs. No one is swimming; they’re just hanging out and drinking. Anna walks up behind me, clearly as drunk and swaying as I am. “Hey, Bandita, there you are. I brought us more shots. Here, take one.” She passes me the shot and almost spills it on my shirt.

“Thanks.” I feel its burn sliding along my throat. I’ve only had a beer and two shots, and I’m already tipsy as hell. I’m such a lightweight.

I practically fall over when I try to sit in a lawn chair beside the sisters. I turn around to see Anna standing on a table, her hands up to her mouth like she’s about to yell something. “So what do you say, girls? Should we take a swim?”

Leave it to Anna to come up with bright ideas and be the center of the party. She loves the attention. Some of the sisters like the idea, but there are about five of us who don’t have bathing suits.

“Anna, I’m not getting in that water without a bathing suit,” I whisper in her ear.

She whispers back, “Come on, Bandita, you only live once.”

I appreciate that she’s being quiet because I’m self-conscious of my naked body. And the scars on my back left from years of abuse. The place is crawling with drunk frat boys, and I’m not in the mood to get noticed.

“Come on, Lex. Just come swimming in your bra and underwear.”

As I’m contemplating, a few of the sisters get undressed, leaving their clothes, including bras and underwear, by the side of the pool. It’s late at night, but there’s enough moonlight to notice their naked bodies entering the water. Once they’re in, I can hear them laughing about what a good feeling it is to skinny dip. All of a sudden, Anna is standing naked on the diving board.

“What the fuck, Anna?”

She jumps in the air and does a perfect jackknife into the water. All of the guys who’ve come outside to see the naked girls begin cheering around us. It’s taking her a while to get back up, and I panic. I throw off my tank top and jeans and jump into the water. I need to save her. She comes bursting to the top of the water like a rocket.

“I knew I could get you in here.” She’s laughing her ass off.

I’m drunk and I think the alcohol has intensified the effect of my feelings. I hit the water, splashing her in the face. “That wasn’t funny. You scared the shit out of me.”

“For real, Lex? I was a competitive swimmer. Let’s not exaggerate,” she says with a bemused smile.

“Yeah, a competitive swimmer who’s drunk off her ass and just dived naked into a pool in front of fifty frat boys.”

She splashes water in my eyes. “Come on, Bandita. Let’s go have fun.”

We swim over to the shallow end. Some guys decided to jump in after the girls. Most of them are wearing boxers, but a few of the cocky bastards are in their birthday suits. We’re all having fun playing water polo and tag. I’m pretty drunk so I repeatedly get tagged during the game.