70
You work on an apology as you squat inside the stall, using your dress as a pillow. Everything comes out too, nice, no matter how you think about it, so you stop thinking about it and loosen your bra. JoJo the monkey boy needs something to think about—before you leave him cold.
Bounding confidently from the stall, you find a lanky redhead in a pair of stilettos straddling the sink. She darkens her eyeliner to a point at the top of her cheek and says, “wrong night, princess, ballet lessons are Wednesday,” into the mirror with a smirk, which throws you off balance. You offer a nervous laugh and say you never took ballet, you’re just naturally graceful, but she’d already punched the button for the hand dryer and is bent over, fluffing her ponytail beneath the tepid blowhole.
Life is a kick in the ass, you think, shoving open the bathroom door. You lean against the far wall, scanning the ballroom from a safe distance as the caterer restocks the taco bar with fresh meat, poultry, and pico de gallo. It calls to you like an old boyfriend. You find Carlos and Lola back at their table, but Rollo has vanished. You consider leaving your phone number with Lola to give to him, perhaps change one of the digits—unintentionally.
The bass player emerges onstage. He hoists a beer bottle and grabs a microphone, offering a profanity-laced toast to the bride and groom, a tribute followed by an animated chorus of yells and whoops from the slowly emptying room. As the din dies away, a small crowd grows near the buffet table. You try to see through the forest of legs. An older man is crouched over on his knees, the top of his head blood red, glistening with sweat. The horseshoe of hair encircling his bald spot shakes like a grass skirt with each convulsion. He’s choking.
“I’m a paramedic,” someone in the crowd says. A young man pushes his way through and helps the choking man to his feet. He lifts him from behind, pumping his fists against the man’s chest until the obstacle releases and the crowd erupts in a chorus of cheers. The heaving man slowly catches his breath, his color returning, and the onlookers peel away one by one with