Home > We Own Tonight

We Own Tonight
Author: Corinne Michaels

Chapter One

Heather

“Damn it, Heather. We’re always late because of you!” Nicole yells from outside the bathroom. She’s been my best friend since the sixth grade. You’d think by now she’d know to pad things by twenty minutes if she wants a snowball’s chance in hell of getting anywhere on time.

“The peril,” I taunt her as I finish putting my hair up.

“You drive me nuts.”

“Such is life.”

I hear her mutter something under her breath as she walks away. I don’t know why she gets so upset. We have plenty of time. With the way Nicole drives, her lead foot will have us at the concert fifteen minutes before the opening act.

Of course, I’m taking my sweet ass time getting ready. I have zero desire to be forced to put on makeup or any version of pants.

Nicole’s idea of girls’ night out and mine are totally different. I could stay home, drink a martini, and be happy. My best friend wants to paint the town red. I’m too old for that shit. I end up smelling like a garbage can and feeling like I ate a jar of cotton balls. I’d rather be comfy in pajamas than wear these jeans that I had to lie on the bed to shimmy into. I can only imagine what I looked like while I was sucking it in and bending backward to get the damn button closed. Then I did about fifteen lunges to “stretch” the pants, all the while praying I didn’t bust a seam. Nothing like a workout just to get dressed.

I make a mental note to call my trainer friend at the boxing ring.

She knocks again. “I’m leaving you.”

No, you’re not.

I open the door a smidge. “I have the tickets in here. So, you know what? Go ahead.” I stick my tongue out and then quickly close the door and lock it. If they hadn’t already left me twice before, I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths. I learned quickly that I always had to have the upper hand with my three best friends. Then again, if I had let her leave me, I could be watching Netflix and shoveling popcorn into my mouth.

Nicole may not have figured out to pad time, but she has learned I have a spiteful side, so she lets me finish without another interruption. I could stay in here longer just to piss her off, but that would mean more time staring at the pink tiles on the wall that I loathe.

My house isn’t bad, but it isn’t great, either. When my parents passed away, it was passed down to me. It’s old and probably falling apart more than I’d like to admit. Yet, I can’t get rid of it. It’s the only thing of them I have, and the only place I can afford.

The mortgage is paid off, which allows me to put what little money I have left over after my monthly bills to go toward my sister’s medical care.

Once I’m happy with my appearance, I head out with a shit-eating grin.

She looks at her watch as I emerge and shakes her head. “I swear.”

The best way to keep Nicole from blowing up is with diversion. “You shouldn’t swear, it’s unbecoming of you. Are we picking up Danni and Kristin?”

“No, and I’m grateful we aren’t, because we would miss the opening band.”

She and I are the two most sarcastic and the biggest assholes out of the group. When we start to bicker, it gets bad—quick. Without our two mediators, it’s best not to engage.

“Are you sure?” I ask ignoring the jab.

“Yes, I’m sure. They’re meeting us there.”

Nicole and I walk out and get in her car. I wish she’d buy a normal size vehicle. I’m five-foot-five, and my knees mash my boobs because of how squished I am. Between my already tight jeans and this sardine can, I’m going to bust a gut.

“Please,” I say dramatically, “tell me they’re not bringing their husbands.”

She laughs. “Dickhead One and Jackhole Two aren’t coming. They’re going for a boys’ night.” She sticks her finger in her mouth and makes a gagging sound.

Thank God for small miracles. Their husbands are the worst, especially Danielle’s.

“Maybe the two loser husbands will fall madly in love with each other,” I muse while I shift to get comfortable.

Nicole smirks as she watches me. “And figure out they were never meant to be married to such amazing women like them.”

“And then we’ll finally build that compound where the four of us can live.”

“No. We’re going to need penises. There’s no way I’m living with you people without having someone to bang. You three will drive me so far up the wall that I’ll need the release. Daily.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re damn near celibate.”

Here we go again. “Shut your face.” She whips out of my driveway so fast that I almost smack my head on the window. “Nic!” I yell as she takes another turn way too fast in this damn death trap. “Jesus! Slow down!”

“Stop being dramatic. I’m with you, and you have a badge. No one is going to ticket me.”

“I don’t care if you get pulled over.” I right myself and grab the edge of the seat. “I care about dying.”

“You’re going to die from lack of sex if anything.” She rolls her eyes and cues the ’90s station. “Listen to Four Blocks Down, and get ready to watch the boys shake their delectable asses on stage. After that, you can remove the stick up your ass, maybe then you won’t be so miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.” I slap her arm.

“Okay.” She shrugs and ignores me, which is her typical way of blowing me off.

Am I miserable? No. I’m happy . . . for the most part.

I have a great job that keeps me fulfilled. Being a female police officer isn’t easy, but I love it.

The only real downside to my job is that I come face to face with my ex-husband every day. Luckily, things didn’t end that badly. But I’d be full of crap if I didn’t admit how much it bothers me. Things with Matt are—weird. Sometimes people just don’t work or you realize the person you married isn’t what you thought. I wish I could transfer to another town, but my sister Stephanie and the twelve years invested in my pension keep me here.

Nicole belts out another round of lyrics. “Sing it with me, Heather!”

I don’t want to, but I’m taken back in time when the four of us had bangs that were so high they could cause whiplash, wore colors that no one should ever wear, and drooled over Four Blocks Down without a smidgen of shame.

Smashed in the tiny death trap posing as a vehicle, I let go a little.

We both sing along, belting out the lyrics of our first crushes. “I wish I still had my Eli pillow case,” I grin.

“I had a Randy towel. I would like to wrap myself up with him again.” Nicole sighs.

I swear this girl needs sex more than anyone I know. “Does your vibrator ever get a break?”

She looks over at me with her usual you’re-an-idiot face. “You’re going to realize very soon, my love, if you don’t use it . . . you lose it.”

“And you’re going to overuse it,” I say. She’s the only one of us who never married. Nicole lives in downtown Tampa. She has to schlep it all the way out to Carrollwood to pick me up, but she knows if she didn’t, I wouldn’t go.

Sometimes, I envy her life. She has everything she dreamed of. Opening Dupree Designs and then landing her contract with one of the wealthiest developers in the city was pure luck. She slept with him, got a few more jobs, and before she knew it—she was on top.

Then she dumped him.

We park the car at the arena, and Nicole shifts in her seat. “Listen, I know you’re hell bent on being the responsible one of us, but tonight,” she grabs my hands, “I beg you to let loose. You need a break.”

I glare at her. “I do let loose.”

“Your hair is in a bun,” she raises her brow. “You’re the definition of tight.”

I touch my hair, hating that she has a point. But this is me. I like to make good choices. Other than marrying Matt, which wasn’t bad per se . . . just hasty. Never mind that he was an asshole. And he sucked in bed.

Okay, so maybe it was a bad choice.

Moving on. “I’m not uptight, Nic.”

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