Untouched and inedible at this point, the tortilla chips were wet and started to wilt, shedding their fried complexion like a snake.
Snake.
Everyone at this table was a snake and Hannah knew that. Even after her third tequila shot (within the last hour), Hannah still knew she was amongst bad friends. Fun friends but just, downright shitty people. Shitty people who can’t take a hint when you’ve been ignoring their text messages for the last month. Shitty people who show up unannounced with a case of basic bitch drinks (Twisted Teas, Truly’s or the worst of them White Claws) and tupperwares full of homemade chicken noodle soup as a consolation prize for turning your home into their designated party zone.
This had been the second time in the last month they all conveniently met at the Mexican restaurant down the street from Hannah’s house. It was two o’clock on a Sunday and every sip Hannah took tasted more and more like her favorite drink of all: instant regret.
Hannah knew deep down she had somewhere else to be; it wasn’t necessarily a location but, on an emotional level, she knew she was stretching herself too thin to mingle amongst those who didn’t know the first thing about refinancing a mortgage.
Especially Joey.
And Joey, he was the worst of them.
Some wannabe entrepreneur who listened to money management podcasts on YouTube, as he scrolled and tapped (his words) through his Instagram feed full of women, on his future father-in-law’s company time.
He had been engaged for the last two years with no set wedding date in sight but had already moved into a condominium with his fiancée due to her parent’s generosity.
You wouldn’t think Joey worked a day in his life on account of the lack of living in their condo.
Bare walls, furniture from their old apartment, discounted TV with a green line diagonally across the screen.
The only room Joey spent any money on was down in his basement and even that is questionable. Rumor has it, he convinced his fiancée to splurge on home theater equipment with the promise that he would set it up himself at no extra cost to her.
He threw the room together in one drunken night with a close friend of his from high school. They had taped the wires connecting the projector to the universal media player on the drop ceiling and let it run down the wall where Joey has yet to place a screen.
Outside of the assortment of bean bag chairs and a couch that was gifted to them from his uncle, there wasn’t much else to that room. Joey didn’t even put together the bar cart in the corner. For a while, it was left in its box and used to keep his bourbon off the floor.
“What’d you get?” Joey reached for Hannah’s glass and brought it up to his nose to get a whiff before taking a sip.
“Blood orange.”
Basically watered down at this point, the color in the drink had stretched thin, looking like a distant sunset.
Joey picked some more at the chips and salsa. “You think you’ll still be up for the movie tonight?”
Watching Joey pick and prod at the salsa made Hannah’s stomach turn. It looked like a bowl of bloody phlegm at this point – an open heart surgery gone wrong.
“I’m going to need something else if I’m going to last ‘til the movie.” Hannah’s shot glass was still sticky with blue agave. Remnants of the blood orange mix still felt alive in her mouth. Almost too alive. A feeling of nausea started to plant roots in the back of her throat. Joey motioned towards the bloodbath between them. Hannah shook her head. Joey took out his keys and double-tapped on the remote start. There was a sudden hiccup of an engine followed by a loud roar coming from the parking lot. “What about my car or them?” Hannah motioned to the rest of the snakes taking up space at the bar with their shot glasses.
Joey smiled without showing teeth before getting up from the table. “We’ll be back.”