Brooklyn

2

This is a terrible idea. Never had I been faced with an idea more terrible, and never have I wanted to do anything more despite knowing how terrible it would turn out.

"I just have so much work." I press my thumb and fingertips into my eye sockets until  silver spots bounced off of one another in the darkness.

"It's literally four days. Two of which are the weekend." Jess adds, "You can't get off for two days?"

"Can we talk about this later?" I whisper into the mic of my earphones. My eyes dart around the office, but everyone is tucked into their little cubicle, EarPods in, glaring at their desktop screens.

"No, we can't." Jess says, "Because later, you're going to be able to say no."

"Exactly." I smile, "You know what happens when we go to something like this. We all drink way too much and somehow let Marcia talk us into doing something incredibly stupid."

"Come on Ken!" I can hear her frowning through the phone.

My nose audibly whistles through my sharp exhale, "Who's all going?"

"Obvs the squad."

I make an audible dry-heaving noise. The girls sitting across from my desk turn in my direction.

"Yeah, I hate that I said, too." Jess says.

I unplug my earphones and take my phone into our office kitchen. It's empty except for the opened jar of coffee on the counter.

"These people." I sigh.

"The coffee open?" Jess asks.

"Yeah." I put it back in the cupboard.

"So, it's all the girls." She continues.

Meaning me, Jess, Marcia and Zama.

"Boys?"

"Aaron, I assume?"

Obviously. Aaron and Zama have been dating since they were 16. We like him. He's a medical student and works at St George's Pediatric Care. He's not always up for a party, but he's out saving kids' lives. He doesn't have to be. 

"And you?" I ask.

"I'm forever alone and destined to die that way."

I roll my eyes, "It's been 3 weeks."

"Yeah." But now she doesn't sound like she's joking anymore.

She stilly loves Tony, I know, and he loves her. But that isn't always enough.

"Well a music festival sounds like the perfect place to find you a rebound."

"Does that mean you're coming?"

"Did you even have to ask?"

It's blistering hot. So hot that my body is emanating a layer of heat, trapping me in a bubble of unbearable humidity. This never happens in the city. Then again, everything in the city has a built-in AC. Luckily for us, Jess booked the Airbnb and ensured that WiFi and air conditioning were marked as essential. 

"This is nice."

We stumble into the 3-bedroom town house, expecting a dingy little cottage, but we're pleasantly surprised. The stone, white walls look straight out of an Instagram "model's" pictures of Mykonos; the white, wooden shutters, too. The sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors and windows. This feels like a proper holiday and we're only an hour out of the city.

"There's a pool outside." Jackson, the house a manager, unlocks the glass door and slides it open, "It's communal, but I think the guys are going to the same concert you are." Jackson looks about thirty five, thirty six. He should know about the festival, so either he doesn't care or he doesn't get out much. My money is on a bit of both, judging by his coral-printed cargo shorts and neon striped collared shirt. He pushes his smudged glasses to his skin. I blink instinctively to lower it from his eyes.

"Here are the keys." He leaves a set on the granite counter top of the kitchen, "There's a surround-sound system in the house." He points to the the TV cabinet. Marcia immediately jumps at it, "Enjoy." He says as if he hopes we don't, "Don't drown in the pool. It'll cost me a fortune to drain it."

"Lovely man." I purse my lips at Jess as soon as he's out of earshot.

"Stop it." She laughs.

Marcia has Tame Impala blaring before Jackson's pickup is out of the driveway.

"Aaron's not coming." Zama steps into the house for the first time, "Wow! This is nice."

"Oh no." Jess hauls her luggage into the closest room, "What happened?"

She shrugs, "His work emergency turned into a life emergency. He has to monitor the patient for a day or two so he said he might come around on Sunday."

"That's the last day though." I say.

"Oh well." She reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a bottle of Tequila, "Who's ready to drink?"