Happy Hour

by Marlowe Granados

Gala called me a Real Piece of Work. I hope she meant artistically. We took two wrong turns but eventually made it to the subway.

Because Gala fancies herself a stylist, she gives educated suggestions. I’ll hold a netted floor-length dress with daisies embroidered into the fabric, and she’ll say, “You couldn’t climb a fence in that.”

The neighbours have nicknamed Gala “Snowflake” because of her blond hair, and, depending on where they’re from, call me “Princesa,” or, if they’re younger boys, “Ma.” I like the latter because it denotes a family tie.

The kimono had several stains, which did not look water-soluble,

Her art is in understanding the fine line between an outfit and a costume. An outfit is what you wear, but a costume is something to really believe in.

Here I was doing whippets with a grown man; life really takes you anywhere.

Gala sat on the sofa eating chicken noodle soup from the pot with a fan between her legs. Both our faces were wrapped in a sheen from the humidity. “It’s like a home for Wayward Girls in here,” Lucian remarked. Gala said he wasn’t wrong.

Gala said, “She’s lucky there were no bottled beers here.” I suppose Gala’s violent loyalty is a comfort at times.

We looked at the menu; drinking cocktails in Paris is an easy way to lose money. He said, “Hemingway used to come here,” and I said, “That’s too bad.”

Edith interrupted, touching my knee lightly. “What a marvellous story, like Jean Rhys and the gigolo!” She sighed. “So Romantic.”

The taller one gestured towards me before sitting down, asking me, “Are you from Mauritius?” I said, “No, but I can spell it.”

“People always say we’re getting too skinny,” Gala said, “but they never think to feed us.”

Edna owns nail salons, but I looked her up and she’s actually a Romanov, and that’s why her husband, John, calls her a princess. I am a fan of pet names that are Titles. John is what is called an angel investor but hopes to one day become a writer because being an angel all the time is tiring.

but really, what is the difference between a cult and a boyfriend? Nicolas thought it was odd for her to stop drinking so quickly. “Why quit something she’s so good at?”

Gala said, “Of course you’d like her. She’s in a hallway.”

Haven’t you ever seen Gold Diggers of 1933?”

Sometimes making bad decisions really takes no time at all. In fact, you realize you’ve been itching to do it all along. Deep down, I think it comes from being so angry at having to restrict yourself all the time. Because in the end, no matter how well you behave, someone will always dash your life’s work away with little to no regard. We are always swimming against the tide. How’s that for justice? If I am reckless, it is because I am tired.

Gala unwrapped the foil from the bottle. She handed it to me to open because she has only ever opened sparkling wine to spray it on someone.

“Fun is fun but—” “—A girl can’t go on laughing all the time.” We said it at the same time and burst into a fit.