About Last Night: An utterly hilarious, feel-good, forced proximity, lesbian romantic comedy, page 1
ABOUT LAST NIGHT
AN UTTERLY HILARIOUS, FEEL-GOOD, FORCED PROXIMITY, LESBIAN ROMANTIC COMEDY
LAURA HENRY
BOOKS BY LAURA HENRY
About Last Night
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Hear More from Laura Henry
Books by Laura Henry
A Letter from Laura
Acknowledgments
Publishing Team
For Sara
CHAPTER ONE
AUDREY
“Audrey, go. Seriously. I got this.”
I look around the apartment I’ve shared with my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—and wonder if I’m doing the right thing, sneaking off with half of everything while Shae isn’t here. I think of her reaction to a half-empty apartment when she returns. It will be part shock because we definitely didn’t talk about me moving out; and part anger because she wasn’t in control of me and everything I do. A good deal of self-pity because I’m treating her so, so wrong and she’s done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment, and an even bigger dose of indignation because she’s Shae Baker, by God, and she’s the one who does the leaving. My stomach twists at the thought of her reaction, and I hate myself a little bit for caring at all.
“You see, that look right there is why you need to leave.” My twin sister, Willa, is pointing her finger in my face. “Do not feel sorry for that gaslighting bitch. You are taking what’s yours and getting out. This is what you want, remember?”
“Yes, it absolutely is. It’s just—”
Willa puts her fingers on my lips. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Her face softens and she pulls me into a hug. “I know this is hard, which is why I’m doing it and not you.” She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. “Go to the Dew Drop Inn and stake it out to make sure Shae doesn’t leave early. I’m guessing the guys and I need about two hours to be cleared out of here. I’ll text you when we’re done, OK?”
I take a deep breath. “OK, yes. You're right. You're right. You're absolutely right.”
One corner of Willa’s mouth quirks up at the nod to the When Harry Met Sally quote. Carrie Fisher’s Marie was as delusional about her married boyfriend as I’ve been about Shae Baker for the last five years.
Like all good love stories, it started out idyllic. Shae was charming and suave and so confident. In charge, but not in an overbearing way. Handsome and sexy, and the sex was next-level amazing. She wanted to take care of me, and I desperately wanted to be taken care of. It was nice to come home to someone who would manage our house, social engagements, vacations, bills. Our life, basically. It helped that we were both career-driven, had the same taste in decor, loved to travel, and enjoyed the company of the same friends. Mostly. Slowly, managing our life morphed into Shae managing my life. What I thought were mutual interests faded from our lives until we were doing things Shae loved and I tolerated. When Shae planned something I didn’t want to do, she went without me, but not until she’d tried to manipulate and guilt trip me into going. Until one Saturday night I was alone at home, again, I realized that it had been weeks since we’d gone out together and I didn’t care. I was relieved when she wasn’t around.
That was the first night I smelled another woman on her.
I’m done.
“I love you,” I say to Willa.
“Well, you ought to because I’m amazing.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help smiling. Willa is the sunshine in my life. The yin to my yang. Not only my sister but my best friend. Confidante. We finish each other’s sentences and, honestly, we don’t even have to speak most of the time to know what the other person wants or is going to say. Is it any wonder we’ve both had such hard luck with romantic partners when we have someone in our life who fills that emotional role?
“And so humble, too,” I tease.
“You’re better at humility than I am. Go.” Willa turns me around and gently pushes me toward the door.
I steel myself and walk out the door of the apartment I shared with Shae for four years without a backward glance.
I sit in my car outside the Dew Drop Inn and watch in my rearview mirror as a steady stream of Denver’s queer community file into the only lesbian bar in the city. The only lesbian bar in seven hundred miles, to be precise. Dewey’s is always packed, but especially on Friday nights for karaoke and the midnight drag show. Shae is a regular on Friday, and a regular on stage. With her lean build, short dark hair, androgynous style, and deep alto voice, she gives the Elvis and James Dean drag kings a run for their money. It was incredibly sexy when she sang songs like “Love Me Tender” to me. Shae would needle me about getting up there and singing to her (I do have a rather nice voice, if I do say so myself), but there is a huge difference between getting up to give a presentation to hundreds of people at work and singing in front of a bar crowd. The first is easy; the idea of the latter makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide. Shae wouldn’t let it go, so I stopped going.
Of course, skipping karaoke night meant I no longer got to see or fantasize about the sexy DJ, Toni D, either.
I sit up straight in my seat. “Speak of the devil,” I murmur.
Toni strides across the parking lot, greeting people in line with hugs and lots of laughter, and is waved in by the bouncer at the door. No one standing in line seems to care she skipped ahead.
I’m almost tempted to give up my stakeout and go inside so I can watch her all night, maybe find the courage to talk to her for the first time, see if this secret attraction I’ve been harboring for a couple of years can withstand an honest to goodness conversation.
I slouch down in my seat. I’m here to stake out Shae, not flirt with another woman in front of her. Plus, the last thing I need to do is start cruising for women. The idea of getting back out there, trying to make a connection, getting to know someone again is exhausting. I just don’t have the energy or mental bandwidth for it right now. I shudder at the thought of dating apps.
I glance in my rearview mirror and see her, Shae, looking gorgeous, strutting across the parking lot with four of our friends and a young, beautiful woman on her arm. Even though my mind knows better, my stomach and heart clench at the sight. I’m not sure if it’s from seeing Shae with her arm around a much younger and hotter version of myself, or our four friends with her, laughing at whatever Shae is saying and apparently not caring at all that she is cheating on me, since we haven’t technically broken up. As far as Shae knows, Willa and I are in Texas having Thanksgiving with our mother. As if we’d ever do that willingly.
Shae palms the woman’s ass as the door to the bar closes behind them.
“That fucking bitch,” I say to the empty car, my blood boiling. I already know she’s been cheating on me, but the least she could do is sneak around. But she’s right out here in public, at Dewey’s, with her hands all over another woman’s ass. And our friends just go along with it.
“Jesus, I’m such an idiot.” Harmonicas wail out of my car’s Bose speakers, reminding me of the epic fuck-you break-up album of my youth.
I know exactly what I’m going to do.
I turn my car off and launch myself out the door before I can change my mind.
CHAPTER TWO
TONI
I see her as soon as she walks in the door, which is saying something with the crush of queer people crammed into the bar. She looks like a CEO on casual Friday—dark skinny jeans, Chelsea boots, a black blazer and a sky-blue silk shirt underneath. Tasteful jewelry. Hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
I’m immediately turned on.
She catches my eye and stops for a moment, before continuing through the crowd, her gaze never leaving mine.
I don’t know her name—it starts with an A, I think—but I’ve seen her here at the Dew Drop Inn a few times with her girlfriend, Shae (with an e). Whenever she isn’t here Shae makes at least one trip to the bathroom with whatever woman in the bar has a passing resemblance to the CEO, if she didn’t bring the doppelgänger with her.
“Audrey’s finally had enough, I see,” Max says in her bored-with-the-world deadpan voice.
“Who?” I ask.
Max scoffs. “The woman you’re tractor-beaming toward you with your fuck-me eyes.”
“I’m not looking at her like that.”
“Sure.”
Audrey. It suits her perfectly. How could I have forgotten it?
And suddenly, Audrey pops out at the front of the stage, which is a one-step platform crammed in the corner. She’s a little breathless. She lifts her chin to meet my gaze.
Of course I know she’s pretty—I might have stared at her more than a few times when I’m in town and DJ karaoke nights at Dewey’s—but I’ve never been this close to her. Her skin is pale and flawless, though her cheeks are flushed from the heat of so many bodies packed into a tiny space. Her makeup is subtle, her lips a glossy dark pink. Dark eyebrows contrast with her blond hair. Audrey had always been the quiet one at the table, laughing at her girlfriend’s jokes, blushing on more than a few occasions each night, grimacing when Shae got too tight, never giving in to her entreaties to sing on karaoke night. The Audrey standing in front of me though isn’t reserved, but fierce and determined. There’s fear in her expression, too. My gut clenches and a strange feeling of protectiveness comes over me.
She inhales deeply, as if mustering the courage to get on the stage, or maybe to speak at all.
“Can I go first?” she asks. Her voice is smooth as warm honey.
You can do anything you want, I think, but thankfully don’t say. In fact, I don’t say anything. I’ve apparently lost the ability to speak.
“Sure,” Max says.
Audrey smiles at Max. A stab of jealousy wakes me up.
“What song do you want?” I ask.
One side of Audrey’s mouth quirks up, and she looks mischievous. My stomach does a little tango.
She steps up onto the stage next to me, leans close, and purrs into my ear, “The greatest break-up song of all time, Toni D.”
Oh good lord in heaven. This woman is going to kill me.
I grin and put one headphone next to my ear. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Her grin is full and wicked.
Audrey steps on the stage and I catch a whiff of her perfume, clean with the subtlest hint of spice. She faces the back of the stage, takes off her jacket, and drapes it over a stool, revealing a silk tank and long arms with creamy skin. She releases her honey blond hair from her ponytail, runs her hands through it to give it volume. My heartbeat is racing like a thoroughbred’s. This isn’t some half-drunk lesbian blowing off steam with a bad rendition of “I Will Survive.” This woman means business.
And I am more turned on by the second.
Max nudges me, and nods toward the crowd. “Shae with an E, two o’clock.”
Audrey’s girlfriend is hot, no doubt about it. Shae is androgynous, tall and thin, with olive skin and perfectly coiffed short dark hair. Audrey and Shae make a striking couple: two stylish, professional lesbians that ooze money. I never bothered to learn too much about Audrey because she is so obviously not my type, not to mention out of my league. I’ve noticed her watching me from time to time, but I chalked it up to her being fascinated by a dirtbag like me. Fascinated like I’m a bug under a microscope, that is.
Shae hasn’t seen Audrey, yet. Neither has the woman draped over Shae’s shoulder.
“This is going to be epic,” Max says, her usual I’m bored with everything and everyone resting bitch face morphed into as close to glee as Max will ever get.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I say to the crowd, not having to force excitement into my voice for once. “Time to prime the pump for the midnight drag show! You aren’t going to want to miss this singer, who I have a feeling is about to blow our minds. I know I wouldn’t want to break her heart. I feel sorry for the poor soul who has. She’s about to sing the greatest break-up song ever written. If you don’t know what song I’m talking about, you oughta know!”
Audrey steps forward into the spotlight, holding the microphone. Shae looks away from Betty Bimbo and her face goes white. One of her friends mouths, “Holy shit,” and starts laughing. Audrey sports the biggest you’re goddamned right it’s me, bitch grin I’ve ever seen. My stomach is somersaulting with excitement. I’m halfway in love with this woman already. The familiar song starts and the entire bar erupts in a cheer.
Audrey’s voice is low, sultry, and sexy as she sings the first two lines. She inhales for the next verse and her voice changes from sexy to gravelly and angry and goddamn if she isn’t the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Shit.” Max laughs.
Shae’s new girlfriend bristles. Shae with an E looks as turned on as I am, until Audrey changes the words to the song so there is no doubt who she’s singing about. The crowd loves it; amid the cheers and claps I hear some Yas girl! and Tell her, sister and Preach!
Audrey is feeling it now. She isn’t looking at her ex anymore, but is doing one of the best nineties rocker chick impressions I’ve ever seen. Eyes closed, bent over rocking to the beat of the music, long hair whipping around her, obscuring her face. I glance at Shae and want to mess up her hair. I’ve always thought she was a douche and the expression on her face proves it.
“You sing it, baby!” a drag queen calls out. Cheers, hoots, whistles, and more words of encouragement are thrown toward the stage.
Audrey grins and straightens, her voice shifting down to a sultry level. The bar has quieted in anticipation, knowing that in a few seconds the sexy rocker chick is going to be unleashed again. If every pair of panties in this bar aren’t soaking, I’m not a lesbian.
“If you don’t fuck her tonight, I’m going to,” Max says.
“Don’t be crude, Max.”
At the bridge, Audrey turns around, eyes closed, and sways to the music. She is absolutely lost in it, and the expression of joy on her face is something to behold. When the music starts to change, she opens her eyes and they meet mine. She winks at me, turns around, and brings the song home.
When she finishes, the bar is silent for a couple of beats, before every person in the place, save Shae and the new girlfriend, goes crazy. Audrey lifts her arms and takes in the adulation, a smile on her face, her eyes shining. She’s free. Her gaze lands on her ex, who’s moving toward the stage. Audrey puts the mic up to her mouth.
“Stop right there. You’ve had your way, now I’ve had my say. Fuck you.” She holds the mic out and drops it, turns on her heel, and exits through the back door next to the stage.
The bar erupts into the biggest cacophony of cheers I’ve ever heard at Dewey’s, with plenty of jeers for Shae with an E thrown in. A quick glance at the crowd and I grin. The new girlfriend is gone.
I see Audrey’s jacket on the stool and grab it. I turn to Max. “I’m going to try to catch her. Whatever you do, don’t let Shae follow her outside,” I tell Max.
“Are you coming back?”
“Hopefully not,” I say, grinning. “You good?”
“Sure, no problem,” Max says. “I’ll just DJ on top of everything else I have to do tonight.”
“Thanks, Max. I owe you one.”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
I rush out into the chill November night. Hell, I would have followed her even if she hadn’t left the coat. I spot her walking around the corner of the bar toward the street, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold. I call out and she stops by a black Mercedes.
When I reach her, I’m breathless. “You forgot this.”
She takes it from me and steps back. “Thank you.” Her voice is small, and she sniffs at the end. All of her bravado from moments ago is gone. I step closer. The need to comfort her is overwhelming, and I’m not the comforting type. At least I never have been. It stops me in my tracks.
“Are you OK?”
“Am I OK? Good question.” She puts on the jacket and sniffs again.
“You were amazing in there.”
She looks away. “I just made a complete fool of myself, but thank you.”
“What?” I step closer. “Every woman in that bar fell in love with you tonight. If you really want to make Shae with an E jealous, you should go back in there and let them fight over who takes you home.”
She narrows her eyes, and scoffs. “That’s not why I did it.”
“I know, I didn’t mean to… that was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry. But you should have heard the crowd when you left. They were letting Shae with an E have it.” I put my hands in my pockets for warmth. I forgot my coat, too.
