“You look very regal tonight,” I said with a grin.
She touched the top of her head to confirm her perfect crown was still placed on her perfectly blown-out hair. “Oh, this? It’s actually the headpiece that goes with my veil. I figured if I was spending over a thousand dollars on it, I might as well use it more than one night.”
Yes. That was the fiscally sensible thing to do.
She gave me a quick once-over. “Oh, that’s what you’re wearing?”
I looked down. A cobalt V-neck sleeveless blouse with a black miniskirt, and a black sparkly shawl thing, plus dangly silver earrings thrown on as an afterthought. What did she mean?
Our limo pulled up right in the front of our apartment building, as planned. Or rather, just as Jane had planned. No time to change clothes now!
The chauffeur opened the back-passenger door for us. The interior, lined with plush white couches, also had a disco ball and multicolored lights that pulsed to the music. A fully stocked bar, along with a bizarre assortment of healthy snacks like quinoa chips and chickpea trail mix, at our disposal. Jane yelled over the music that she had asked for this custom assortment of treats because the VIP spread was usually “gross vending machine eats, like Chili Cheese Fritos and Grandma’s Sandwich Cookies.” Good lord, I would’ve binge eaten everything.
She poured us some champagne and asked, “So what’s the plan tonight?,” as if she hadn’t arranged the entire itinerary a few weeks earlier and emailed it to me as “FYI.”
8 P.M. Limo pickup (reservation under Jane’s name). Pop champagne.
8:15 P.M. Candace pickup. Nonalcoholic drinks stocked in the back.
8:30 P.M. Dinner + Drinks at Canteen Waterfront Bistro (reservation under Jane’s name).
10:30 P.M. Dancing at Saturn (VIP list under Jane’s name).
“We’re picking up Candace and heading to dinner,” I answered cheerfully, not wanting to be a downer about her neurotic plans. I’d never heard of Canteen, but given the shittiness of the organic snacks in the limo, I prayed to God that this wasn’t one of those overpriced hipster eateries where the chef infused the foods with flaxseed particles and wheatgrass flavonoids. Jane always knew all the hottest restaurants, but her tastes lately had skewed organic-local-vegan-holistic-raw-disgusting. She drank protein powder smoothies with ground-up collagen and chia seeds every morning. However, since this was her special single-woman-night-on-the-town celebration, I needed to comply with her culinary demands.
We pulled up to Candace’s townhome in Capitol Hill at 8:15 on the dot (how did Jane know?) and she waddled down the stairs to join us. Her belly had gotten much bigger in just a few days. She looked stunning, with her radiant skin and thick mane of hair. I gave her a hug as she climbed inside, and our limo continued its journey to the restaurant.
Candace tried to fasten her seat belt but it wouldn’t fit over her baby belly. “I guess they don’t have a belt extender,” she grumbled, yanking hard. It took all three of us to help her expand the belt to the maximum length and it barely fit over her midsection. But it did fit, which was most important.
Candace and I chatted away about her baby. She squealed, “She’s the size of a large rutabaga, and I can feel her kick all the time now. My nausea’s fully gone, so I won’t be the first one to throw up tonight!”
I admitted, “I don’t even know what a rutabaga is. It sounds like an old foreign car.”
Laughing, Candace curved both hands and held them five inches apart. “It’s a root vegetable about this size.”
I tried to bring Jane into our conversation, too, but she just wasn’t interested. She spent the entire ride powdering her nose, reapplying lipstick, and straightening her already perfectly placed tiara. When we arrived at Canteen, she was ready to be queen of the night.
The host opened our door and greeted us with a warm smile.
“Jane, party of three?” We nodded, and he ushered us through the foyer. “You’ve booked our private dining room. An excellent choice.” I accidentally snort-laughed. When service workers congratulated customers for selecting their services, it always made me snigger.
Darkness had fallen outside, but the view from our private room was still spectacular. The moonlit water extended for miles, and the bobbing boats in the harbor filled me with wonder. I’d moved to Seattle three years earlier and questioned my decision so many times over the years, but this night showed how stunningly picturesque this city could be, even during the nonsummer months.
Candace pointed downward. “Whoa, look at that!” The view of Elliott Bay had diverted my attention and I hadn’t looked down at the dining room floor. Our table and chairs stood atop see-through plexiglass covering a maze of minirivers, where hundreds of exotic, brightly colored fish swam to and fro.
“Oh my goodness, is that koi?” Jane jumped from her spot and landed above some coral reef.
“They’re moving so fast! It’s hard to figure out the fish genus and species,” I said.
Candace and Jane glanced at each other, and then they looked at me. “Oh my god, Mel. Who would have guessed you were a fish nerd? This may turn out to be the highlight of my evening!” Jane giggled.
My muscles tensed as I tiptoed to the table. These fish darted around without being bothered by our looming presence, but I still didn’t like the idea of stepping so closely above them. It also made me self-conscious to walk on top of living things wearing a skirt. Sure, these fish weren’t capable of peering upward, but they could totally see my underwear if they flopped sideways. But maybe this was the champagne talking.
Her Royal Highness Jane had ordered the wine ahead of time, and our dedicated waiter had poured out two glasses. “The red wine had time to breathe!” Jane said gleefully as we toasted to the evening. Candace raised her glass of sparkling grape juice.
“Cheers!” We clinked glasses and, no pun intended, I drank like a fish.
It took me a while to figure out why restaurant reviewers loved Canteen, because both the ambiance and the patrons looked so pretentious. The restaurant recommended sharing all items on the menu. Canteen’s culinary shtick was gourmet “mess hall food,” served in wooden bowls that you passed around to your tablemates. But even though it was family-style summer camp fare, that didn’t mean it was cheap. This place charged twenty-two dollars for a medium-size bowl of tater tots. The mac and cheese was double that price. The freezer aisle at the grocery store had the same thing for maybe six dollars, tops.
Jane had already precalled in our dinner order. We continued drinking as we waited for the food to come out in installments.
First, the pitcher of “Grown-Up Gluten-Free Vodka Kool-Aid Punch” arrived at our table, along with two red Dixie cups. The mini–tofu dogs and sprouted organic potato salad came next. To me they tasted fine, but Candace took a bite of each one and spit them into her napkin.
Vegan baked beans soon followed, and then for dessert we had campfire s’mores that we could roast tableside. I ate about a dozen charred s’more bites, while interspersing toasts to the bride-to-be with the never-ending supply of spiked grape Kool-Aid. Aside from the astronomical bill and the fear of floors cracking and us falling into the koi swarms, the night turned out to be much more fun than expected.
Jane fell into me with a lazy smile plastered on her face. “Our limo is outside, we should head out.”
Candace whispered, “Wow, even though she’s completely hammered, she’s still keeping us on schedule! I need to run to the bathroom before we go. Sorry, pregnancy makes me pee a ton!”
I turned to Jane. “Are we really going to a club with a frequently peeing pregnant woman?”
“Ab-so-fucking-lutely! This might be one of Candace’s last crazy nights out in a long time.”
I hadn’t considered this was Candace’s last hurrah before having kids. Jane would be getting married soon and settling down too. And as for me, well, I took the night off and wasn’t working on that cursed video game. The game that would make or break my production career. The game that put a bull’s-eye on my back for all those online trolls.
More drinks, anyone?
WE JUMPED INTO the limo and I poured two glasses of champagne and made Candace a sparkling apple juice cocktail with maraschino cherries and a lime garnish.
I gave a toast. “To Queen Jane. May all her drinks be paid for tonight. And may she pass those free drinks over to me.”
We giggled and clinked glasses. Candace went next.
“Cheers to my girls! We’ve been through a lot together.” A flash of melancholy spread across her face, and then she burst into tears.
“Oh my god, Candace, are you okay?” I asked at the same time Jane yelped, “Oh my god, Candace, your makeup is running!” We both handed her fistfuls of tissues, for different reasons.
Candace blew her nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying at a bachelorette party. I guess I’m sad that so much has changed recently. I got married, I’m having a baby soon. A year ago, my life was much more carefree. Now my life will never be the same. I think this might be my hormones talking, though.” She took a deep breath and fanned her face with her hands.
I reached out and patted her arm. “Candace, we’re here for you, no matter what.”