[Author's note: this story is inspired by, and owes a lot to, a chapter from William Goldman's novel
Brothers
.]
Phoebe didn't want to go out that night.
It had been a long week at work. The project was behind deadline, her teammates weren't pulling their weight, and yet her boss seemed to take it out mostly on her. Not even direct comments, but that annoying passive-aggressive, "I thought you were more up for this task" bullshit. So when Friday was done, so was Phoebe. She crashed on the couch and channel surfed. Spending her entire weekend that way seemed like a great plan to her. She sure as hell wasn't in the mood to be social.
Her roommate Veronica, however, had other plans.
"Come on," Veronica pleaded with her, standing in front of her and doing a good job of blocking the TV. "I don't want to stay in all night."
Veronica was a decent enough friend, but she didn't ever go anywhere out on her own if she could have company instead. "Not tonight," Phoebe said, trying to look around her.
"But we'll have fun! And it doesn't have to be all night. Let's get out of here, let our hair down, and relax! Come on!"
Phoebe sighed. She turned the TV off and tossed the remote on the far end of the love seat. Wasn't anything on worth watching anyway. "I better not regret this later," she said.
Phoebe started regretting it almost from the moment the Uber dropped them off at a downtown club. The place was packed. The drinks were watery and over-priced. The DJ sucked. The music was loud and awful. Rather than letting go of her cares she just felt more annoyed. After a couple of dances she gave up, sat down at a table, and nursed her drink.
Her more buxom and social roommate was still on the dance floor, having a great time, making eyes with every guy. That was par for the course, Phoebe thought. Veronica was the social one, the devil-may-care one, the one who occasionally needed Phoebe to cover her half of the rent just for a week or two. Phoebe was the one who took care of business.
An older guy with the start of a gut and a slightly receding hairline came over to her. "Hey," he shouted over the music, "want to dance?"
"I'm just here with my friend tonight," she said. "Not really in the mood for dancing."
"How about I keep you company? What are you drinking?"
Fuck it, she thought, he's not getting the message. "I'm gay," she lied.
He scowled and moved off. "Asshole," Phoebe muttered under her breath.
Eventually Veronica took a break from dancing and came over to the table. She plopped down in the seat next to Veronica. "Whew!" she shouted over the noise, "I told you'd this'd be fun!"
Phoebe said, "Let's get out of here."
"Oh, come on!" Veronica said. "Let's stay a while longer!"
Phoebe glared at her. "I'm leaving. And I'm not leaving you here on your own."
Veronica pouted. "All right," she said. The two gathered their purses and walked towards the exit. Suddenly a woman stepped right in front of them. She looked to be in her forties, pale skin, short dark hair, and dressed in an immaculate light grey business suit.
"Excuse us," Phoebe said, just about to walk around the stranger.
The woman didn't say anything, didn't betray any expression. She simply reached in her purse, brought out what looked like a palm-sized perfume bottle and sprayed Phoebe in the face, and then Veronica.
They both closed their eyes and coughed. Phoebe thought she smelled something burning and there was a small taste of metal in the back of her throat but both sensations disappeared after a moment. Phoebe blinked rapidly and when her vision cleared, she saw the woman leaving through the door.
"Bitch!" Phoebe cried. "Come on!" she said, racing after her. Veronica followed. The other woman had a long stride and she was halfway down the street before Phoebe caught up her with. Phoebe grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. "What the hell is your problem, lady?" Phoebe yelled at her.
For a moment the woman looked back at her with that same blank expression. But then her face adopted the most sorrowful look to it. "Oh, I am so sorry!" she told Phoebe. "I was trying to use my perfume, but the nozzle must be broken!"
"Just be more careful next time," Phoebe said.
"I can't believe I did that to you and your friend. I feel just awful about it. How can you two ever forgive me?"
"It's all right," Phoebe said. "Just...was surprising."
"Yeah," Veronica chirped in, "it's all good."
"I insist you allow me to help make up for it. Here," she said digging around in her purse for a moment before pulling out two one-hundred bills. "Please," she said, "take these."
"We couldn't," Phoebe said but she almost started reaching for them.
"Please. I insist. I feel terrible about what happened, and you wouldn't want me to feel bad, would you? Take them."
Phoebe and Veronica did so, thanking the woman as they pocketed the cash.
"Where are my manners?" the woman asked. "My name is Ms. Lanke. What are your names?"
"I'm Phoebe," Phoebe said, "and this is Veronica." As soon as she said their names, she realized she didn't particularly want this woman to know her name but it was too late then.
"A pleasure to meet you both," Lanke said and she shook their hands. "Listen," she said, "I still feel like that's hardly enough, but I don't have enough else on me right now to compensate you. I know -- why don't you both join me back at my place? It's just a short drive away. Maybe a fine glass of wine or two would help patch things up.
"We were just about to head home," Phoebe said.
"Oh, I know," Lanke said, "that club was much too awful. I assure you we'll have a much nicer time at my place. Please say yes."
"I guess that would be okay," Veronica said. Phoebe shot her friend a dirty look. Veronica, abashed, looked away.
"Would you like to follow me in your car, then?" Lanke asked.
"We got a ride here," Veronica said.
"Even better. And you, Phoebe? It's all right with you as well?"
"I'd rather just go home, thanks anyway," Phoebe said.