Banana Girl: a thatcherjoe love story

Chapter 22- 9 mojitos and 100 olives

A/N
Hi, guys! Hope you're enjoying the book- keep leaving comments and giving me your support, please- it's really encouraging!
Just to say, whoever gets grossed out very easily should just be aware that Tanya has far too many mojitos!
R xx

I'd never actually stopped to think about quite how much I'd changed since I met Joe until now, the moment I- the tomboy who wears jeans and can barely be bothered to brush her hair- was walking downstairs in high heels, wearing a short, baby-blue dress, and holding Joe's hand. The heels were at least 4 inches, and the dress was 10 at the most. I had a light layer of makeup on and my hair was tied into a loose but gorgeous bun, with a hairpin in the shape of cherry blossom, and my nails painted to match.
"O.M.G!" Cried Zoe, running towards me, "You look incredible!" She was looking even better, wearing the short white dress I suggested with the navy flats. The clutch in her right hand was blue like her shoes, and the silver necklace with matching bracelet was one Alfie gave her. The guys were wearing shirts and tight jeans (Joe's were especially tight- he looked so sexy!).
Tanya was wearing a knee-length black dress with a royal blue belt, 6 inch blue heels and a white cardigan.
We headed to the hotel restaurant and Joe sat me down at one of the tables, Zoe opposite. I had a caramel latte and Tanya had a mojito, although I warned her it was too early.
She was sat down, eating cocktail olives and the occasional cherry.
Zoe stuck with water instead of wine; she was 3 months pregnant after all.
Tanya had another olive.
Then we had refills and she got a bit... Fun. Mojitos aren't the best thing for someone who doesn't usually drink.
"I'm not who you say I are!" She declared, "I am not dr- dr- drunk!" She very obviously was.
She had another olive.
"Another mojito please," she shouted to the barman, "and that will be it, thanks, Terry!" His name was John, and he looked unsure about giving her a sixth mojito.
Another olive.
"I," she began, "am very... Very... Happiness!" I looked at her, trying not to laugh.
"You're what?" The 6th mojito arrived at our table, delivered by a waitress who very clearly didn't have time for drunk girls, sighing as she walked away.
Another Olive.
"I'm very happiness! No, wait, I'm very happy. Silly me! I'm happy! H.a.p.p.y. Hap-ee! Ha! That sounds like wee!"
Olive. Olive. Olive.
She was so drunk, and Zoe giggled.

Tan ordered yet another Mojito. We would've stopped her, but we knew she really needed to relax and have fun, and it would've been mean to stop her now.

"Tan? Let's go to your room. Maybe you can sleep? Or have some water or something?"
Olive.
"No! I'm fine! Fine-y Fine! I'm this fine!" She cried through a mouthful of olive, holding her hands shoulder-width apart in the air.

Tanya ordered two more mojitos, scoffing olives as she did so. She downed the 9th mojito in victory and triumph, before snorting in laughter and proceeding to continue laughing at her own snort.

Zoe turned to me, ignoring Tanya, and said, "Do you know why we've come to NYC? The Hopeless Case here-" she pointed at Tan, "-clearly doesn't."
I shrugged my shoulders.
Olive.
"No idea. I don't even know how long we're here for. Joe indicated it wouldn't be long, but-"
Thump. Tanya's head hit the table and we heard her snore. We had had a long flight, but I think it was the alcohol that really did it. She could snore louder than Joe, and that was saying something. I could see a half-eaten green olive poking out of her mouth.
"Yeah, we should move her..." Wondered Zoe, "Help?" WE would've asked the boys to help, but they'd long since gone up to their rooms to sleep. In all the mojito-drinking, olive-scoffing fun, we hadn't realised it was getting on for 2:00 am.
We smiled and took another sip of our drinks, as the olive Tanya had in her mouth oh-so-elegantly slipped out onto the table.
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We tugged Tanya up to her room, even though she was half asleep, and got her changed into her pyjamas, the purple ones with a small hole in the side of the vest top, and just in time- she vomited all over them 2 minutes later, throwing up numerous cocktail olives and a cherry.
"Sorry guys- one drink too many- shouldn't have drunk that much- it was my fault- I want water!- my mistakes are always stupid- at least it's not on my dress- think I need new pyjamas-" we could barely hear what she was saying between hurling down the loo and on the floor. It was runny and greeny-yellow and spread all over the bathroom floor.
For me to clean up.
With thin, flimsy tissues.
Lovely.