Magda sat at a table by herself in a dark corner of the
restaurant nursing a Long Island Iced Tea.
The rest of the crew was out on the dance floor swaying, bobbing, and
egging Soja on with yelps and whistles.
When the band paused for a break, Soja leapt from the stage and beamed
to Magda from three tables away, “Did
you fuckin’ see that? – that was so much fuckin’fun!”
Without breaking her stare from the back wall of the stage,
Magda flatly replied, “Yeah – kinda hard to miss, girl.”
“Hey you want to kick it for a
while – you know, backstage party?”
“What
fuckin’ backstage; you mean their bus?
Soja I don’t know if that’s a good idea – I heard about those
dudes.”
“C’mon!
Shit live a little.”
“I am
livin’ homegirl. Don’t you think you’re
a little drunk for that shit?”
“I can
handle myself.”
“Yeah –
anyway I’m just gonna go home.”
“Whatever –
you still takin’ Jacque – he’s pretty handsome huh?”
“Yeah –
I’ll take him home. You sure you not
coming?”
“Geez you
act like a fuckin’ old maid.”
“Whatever. Do your thing.”
“Fuck you.”
