The Girls

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Amsterdam. 1992. The year that four people would meet and change each other's lives forever.

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Monaco. 1992. Thursday night.

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Tina had been travelling around Europe with her cousin; they'd just gotten mistaken for a pair of prostitutes in Monaco, and quite frankly she wasn't really okay with that. As soon as the dinner was over (it was nice because it was free; paid for by an older, yet slightly skeevy looking European man), she and her cousin retreated back to their hotel; a few drinks to the wind and still slightly creeped out.

"I was SO terrified he was gonna kidnap us," said her cousin as she took off her heels with a sigh of relief. "That was like, something out of James Bond."

"It totally was. But hey, at least we got free booze and a meal out of it." Tina grinned as she peeled off her jumpsuit and threw it back in her suitcase; they were checking out in the morning anyway, so she'd take care of it then. "Where to next, chief?"

Her cousin, now dressed in an oversized NYU t-shirt and no pants, rolled over on the bed to grab the travel brochures from off the nightstand. "I dunno...." Her eyes lingered over one with a castle on the front. ".... Amsterdam?"

Tina groaned. "You mean the place where college students go to party in obscure clubs and buy kush weed?" She slumped down on her bed and ran a hand over her face. "----Yeah, I guess that'd be okay."

Little did she know that soon, she would eventually meet the bane of her existence and her future husband within two days of being there.

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New York City. 4:00 p.m. Wednesday afternoon.

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Amy didn't really like to travel, despite her having a big soul trapped in a tiny body. She much preferred to stay in New York, where things were somewhat the same and the coffee shop on 34th Street was her home. But, much to her chagrin, her roommate literally begged her to come with her to Amsterdam over winter break.

"C'moooooooooon, Ames. It'll be bangin'."

She grimaced at the nickname, (one that she could never get her friend to stop calling her.) "Okay, for one, never, EVER say that again. We're not in college anymore, Jules. Grow the fuck up."

"Jesus, I was just trying to be HIP, Amy. Don't be such a bitch."

"You love it and you know it."

"Whatever. You comin' along or not? I need to know soon if I wanna get in on the ticket sale."

"Yeah, alright. But I'm makin' no promises about not buying up as much weed as I can." She grins wolfishly on her side of the phone; Julia HATES when she smokes.

"Ugh, as if. But fine, do whatever you wanna do. Who knows, Ames. Maybe you'll meet someone who can finally pin you down."

Amy snorts and shifts the phone from where she hugged it between her ear and shoulder back to her hand. Her voice goes high-pitched and nasally, taking on a mocking tone. "As if."

"You're such a bitch."

"Love you too."

And with that, she makes a loud, obnoxious kissing noise into the receiver and hangs up promptly, setting her hands on her hips and letting out a huge sigh. "Let's see if I've got anything to wear that's not torn to shreds."



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