Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Seventy-Six

    "Just the thought of carrying all of those bags up to the room makes me want to puke," Bri muttered, twisting around in her seat and staring at the shopping bags piled in the backseat. "We...may have gone a little overboard."

    Mia shrugged as she drove. "What can I say? I needed shopping therapy."

    "Oh, that shower therapy didn't do the trick?" Bri muttered, turning back around to face the front.

    Mia laughed. "Will you let that go? Oh my God."

    "I'll let it go when you explain to me what it is you do to yourself to make those sounds come out," Bri said, and although she held out and tried to keep herself from laughing, she laughed anyway. "I'm sorry. I wish you could have seen my face when I first heard it. You would have thought some Paranormal Activity shit was going on or something. I was looking around the living room thinking about what I could use for a weapon. I legit thought you were being attacked."

    Mia turned the car into the hotel parking garage. "I know, I know. You never masturbate. We've had this conversation before."

    "I have a man," Bri declared. Then, she sobered up. "Well, I had one. I didn't have a need to finger myself all day."

    "Even when I have a man, I still..." Mia rolled her eyes upward. "...You know. Having a man doesn't stop me from doing it. Having a man just means I do it less often."

    "Nympho." Bri rolled down the passenger side window and shouted out of it, "My friend's a total superfreak! Help!"

    Mia swatted her friend on the arm. "You're going to scare some old people, shouting like that. Stop."

    Bri rolled her window back up. "What? I was just warning them that a complete and total superfreak was in their midst. People have a right to know." She paused. "You're worried about me scaring them by shouting out of a window. You should have worried about scaring them with that yodleing you were doing in the shower."

    "Shut the fuck up, Bri!" Mia shouted as she parked the car. "Jesus."

    Bri laughed. "All right, all right, I've leave you alone. For now. I'm sorry. You should have heard yourself. Well...you probably heard yourself. I wish you could have heard yourself from outside of yourself, though. To you, it probably sounded normal. But to me, it sounded like..."

    "I thought you were going to leave me alone," Mia said, turning off the car and arching a look at her friend.

    Bri pursed her lips shut. Then she raised her hand, with her index finger and thumb pinched together, and drew those fingers across her lips in a gesture that meant she was zipping her lips shut. She turned around in her seat and looked at the shopping bags in disdain again. "Ugh."

    "You don't have to worry about the bags," Mia said, pulling the car keys out of the igniton. "I'll carry them up. You go ahead and go to the room. Leave the door open with that metal thing that you can flip out."

    "Got it, got it," Bri said, already getting out of the car. "Ooh, you know what we should have gotten? Ice cream. I wonder if room service has ice cream. They have to have dessert, right?"

    "Spoken like a true pregnant woman," Mia said, opening the driver side door.

    "I heard that, bitch, you're not slick!" Bri exclaimed as she closed the passenger side door. She walked across the parking lot, towards the elevators.

    Mia closed the driver side door and opened the back door. She looked down at the shopping bags and sighed. They really had gone overboard. There were simply too many good stores in the Los Angeles area. Designer stores, small chic boutiques, charming vintage stores, Los Angeles had it all. And with how crazy her life had become, it had been difficult to squash the urge to indulge. Clothes, shoes, accessories such as purses, modest jewelry...she'd definitely indulged. When she really knew she was going too far was when she'd stopped in front of tattoo shop, considering getting a tattoo. Damn well knowing she didn't even know what she'd want a tattoo of. Just wanting one for the thrill of it, because she was in Los Angeles and felt like a free bird that could do whatever she wanted. At that point, she'd told herself that she needed to hold back and rein in her craziness.

    Carrying the bags up was going to be a nightmare, but once the bags were in her hotel room and she got to play dress-up, it would all be worth it. "End goal, Mia," she said out loud to herself. "Think of the end goal."

    "A philosophy I've always practiced," a deep voice said behind her.

    She turned around and her eyes widened.

    Standing before her, dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of fresh Jordans, was none other than Trevor Riley. Professional football player and recreational woman beater.