The Best Friend's Guide to Surviving Matrimony (and All That Other Happy Shit)

Bzzzt.

There was a vibration between my boobs telling me someone had chosen to text me at a very inopportune time. Worst part about jogging with your phone: you can't help but reply to texts while running, despite the certain danger of doing so.

Careful not to dislodge my already insecure headphones, I shamelessly dove my hand into my sports bra and pulled out my iPhone, tapping open the message.

My breathing was heavy as I scanned the screen. From: Evie. Evie was Lexxi's southern belle girlfriend of two years and possibly the sweetest little thing I’d met in my life. I smiled as I read the text: Hey girl! Since lex was so kind not to invite me when he stopped over mon. night, wanna have drinks tmrw? I can find a guy to keep you company so you don't feel like a 3rd wheel.

I chuckled, quickly responding as I ran. Kinda like a blind double date?

The reply came a few minutes later: Yeah! lol. 7:30 @ the golden gopher?

I grinned. I'll be there.



The clock on the dashboard was just ready to roll over to 7:36 when I pulled up to the nearest vacant spot I could find. Already late, I spent just a moment checking my appearance in the rear-view mirror before I locked up the car, popped a coin into the meter and scuttled down the block. The balmy evening air felt good on my bare shoulders as I made my way up to the bar.

The Golden Gopher was a homey little pub in downtown L.A., squeezed in between rows of apartment buildings and sketchy duplexes. It was like a diamond in the rough, surrounded by residencies on all sides. Evie had introduced us to the place two years before when she'd just started getting serious with Lexxi. At the time, she'd been inhibiting the apartment just above, making her place the ultimate party pad. It wasn't an unusual occasion for the entire crew to swarm the bar on Friday and Saturday nights, staking our claim at the pool table, sabotaging the jukebox and drinking the taps dry. Whenever we caused too much trouble and got shooed out, we'd just take the festivities upstairs.

Nowadays, although we didn't frequent the bar like we used to, there was still a hint of wary recognition on the bartenders' faces when any of us entered the door.

Nudging my way past the hoard of smokers that crowded the front stoop, I pried open the swinging door and sidled in. I was immediately met with a throng of people, all talking loudly and swaying and belting back drinks. As I stood on my tiptoes and scanned the bar, it wasn't hard to spot Evie in the fray: hair as bleached as hers was sure to stand out anywhere.

I wriggled my way between a pair of middle-aged business men and false I.D. wielding college students until I got to Evie's corner near the pool table. Sneaking up behind her, I got close to her ear and whispered, “Hand over the alcohol and nobody gets hurt.”

She spun to face me, shocked half to death. Immediately recognizing me, she broke out into a grin and pounced on me with a hug. “Hey! Long time, no see!”

“Tell me about it!” I pulled away, running a lock of her curled hair through my fingers. “I swear, just when I thought your hair couldn't get any whiter...”

“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Lexxi says I put the old ladies to shame.”

“If there's ever an old lady that looks as good as you, please find out what her trick is.”

She laughed.

I leaned up against the wall, crossing my arms as my eyes scoured the crowd for the second brightest blond head I knew. “Where is the old fart, anyway?”

“Over by the bar.”

I laughed. “Figures.” Then something suddenly struck my mind. “What about my date?”

Evie's face suddenly paled, visible even in the dim lighting. “Oh, uh...he's right over there with Lex.”

Confused by her abrupt flash of guilt, I sent her a look but glanced toward the bar nevertheless. My stomach sunk in realization as I found Lexxi's skinny form in the crowd, joined by a curtain of long brunette hair, a barrel chest and two thick, tattooed arms.

I swung around, gaping at Evie in disbelief. “My 'blind date' is Stix?”

She just looked at me with that guilty 'please don't hurt me' face.

“Whose fabulous idea was it to invite him?”

“I tried inviting a guy from work, but he was busy,” she peeped in an itsy bitsy voice that was begging me not to go ballistic. “So, I figured Stix might be free, and, well...”

“Dammit, Evie!”

“C'mon, Jo!” she pleaded. “It can't be that bad.”

“It is! I would have rather came alone than have to spend my evening with that tool.”

“Why, though?”

Should've known that was coming. I threw my hands up in exasperation, rolling my eyes. “Because he hates me!”

It was true – Stix Zadinia loathed me just about as much as any one person could. It was a bit juvenile, if you asked me. The only reason he had it in for me was because I’d represented his wife in their divorce three years before, and consequently ended up winning her half of everything they owned.

His reason was a good one, that much I could agree with. Honestly, I didn't even want to do it; I was good friends with Samantha, but when it came to their split, I had no intentions on getting involved. But I was in a bad position. My career in law was nearing its end. Cases were getting scarce, but I still had bills to pay, loans to clear. When Sam extended the offer to represent her, I felt trapped – I didn't want to betray Stix, but I had to eat. I really had no choice but to take the case.

Considering the damage I’d cost him, I could understand why Stix had initially felt resentment towards me, but it'd been three years and dozens of pleading apologies later, and he was still holding a grudge. I’d felt terrible about it for months, but by now the remorse had faded away and left a mutual dislike in its wake.

Still, Evie was trying to argue the point. “He doesn't hate you, he's just a little cautious about rekindling a friendship.”

“If you considering evil glares and snooty remarks 'cautious,'” I replied sourly.

She rolled her eyes. “He's not that bad. And you certainly try too hard to raise the peace flag, either.”

“I've been trying to do that for three fuckin' years,” I mumbled beneath my breath.

“Just be civil, okay? We're all here to have a good time. If you keep it grown-up, then that shouldn't be too hard to accomplish.” She tugged my arm, pulling me toward the two across the room.

“I'm not the one that insists on acting like a child,” I muttered, following along reluctantly.

“Civil, Jo. Civil.” She turned toward the guys again as we got closer, her face suddenly splitting into a warm smile that fooled even myself. “Hey there, you two! How are my favorite boys?”

Lexxi grinned in reply and folded her slim frame into his arms, kissing her deeply, his beer bottle resting at the small of her back. I stood there gawkily, pretending not to acknowledge them or Stix's presence by glancing around the bar nonchalantly until they finished. I assumed the drummer was doing the same. When the two lovebirds separated with a final smack, I dared a glance back over in their direction. I found Lexxi smiling at me.

“Hey, Jo!” He came in for a hug. His bottle thumped my back. “How ya doin' tonight, babe?”

“Sure, don't greet me with a big sloppy kiss,” I joked.

“You want one?” He pulled back to give me a look that I’d seen far too many times before: the look that said 'dare me.'

“No, save that crap for Evie. She's the one into old guys, not me.”

We all laughed – except for, of course, the statue in the corner. He continued staring off into space, almost as if there wasn't a conversation going on around him.

“You look good tonight,” Lexxi then commented, gesturing toward my outfit with the neck of his bottle. He leaned over to nudge Stix, finally catching his attention. “What do you think, man? Does she look hot or what?”

Despite it being a very blatant and lame attempt at including him in the conversation, the drummer did manage to raise his eyes. Without bothering to acknowledge that I even existed, he gave my clothing a lethargic once over, took a pull of his beer, then gazed across the bar again. And that was all.

Feeling a pinch of anger, I glanced over at the two blonds. They were sharing uneasy looks from the corner of their eyes. I took a deep breath and looked back over at Stix, uttering in a deliberately loud tone, “Hi, Stix.”

Surprisingly enough, it caught his attention. He looked back over, finally giving some sort of indication that he knew I was present by making eye contact. His blue orbs looked exhausted and uninterested. “Hi,” he murmured.

“How have you been?”

“Fan-tas-tic,” he replied dryly, sarcasm so thick that he might just as well have slapped me in the face instead, for it would have served as a much better answer than what he'd given.

Now that the night's source of tension had been successfully established, Lexxi decided to intervene. “Why don't we go find a booth? I'm fucking starved.” With a nervous grin, he took Stix's arm and wheeled him around, pulling him deeper into the bar. Evie and I followed suit, the blond sending me apprehensive glances all the while as I glared at the drummer's back.

It was the same old, same old: another night of feuding at The Golden Gopher. How many times had we done this before?

“I told you he was going to be a dick,” I muttered tartly, low enough that it would only be heard by Evie's ears.

“He's just in a bad mood. His car broke down earlier – ”

“He hates me and you knew when you invited him that this would happen – ”

“He's hardly even said anything yet!”

“He doesn't need to. It's pretty damn obvious he doesn't want me here.”

“This is exactly why you guys hate each other,” she hissed, sending me a heated look from the side. “All this petty bullshit needs to stop. Neither of you are going to have a good time if you're both too busy framing each other. Just shut up and pretend to like him, will you?”

Though her words had me bubbling with anger, I merely huffed in response, glaring daggers into Stix's broad back. She was right and I knew it. That didn't make liking him any easier.

When we reached the booth, I found myself stuck with a seat next to The Thing before I even had a chance to choose. When I glanced up and saw Evie smiling devilishly at me, I almost felt need to punch the dumb smirk off her face. But despite the literal physical pain it caused me, I bit back the forming protests and and slid into the booth without a word. As my elbow brushed his ink-saturated forearm, Stix edged away, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could possibly get.

I stared at his profile for a moment, incredulous. Did I have fucking cooties or something?

Apparently, according to Stix, I did.

I’d need to be a lot more drunk if I were going to get through that night with my sanity intact.