Free Winter Jacket: Finding Home by Eliza Lentzski Page A

know,” I offered. “I am the Best Woman, after all.”
    “Still not a thing,” Troian announced from the table.
    I waved a dismissive hand. “You just go back to your phone,” I said. “But speaking of Best Woman duties, do you guys want a joint bachelorette party or do you want your debauchery separate from each other?”
    “I do not have time for any of that foolishness,” Troian said stiffly.
    Nikole frowned and shook her grilling tongs at her partner. “You need to take a break, babe. You’re gonna burn yourself out.”
    But Troian was too distracted by the text on her phone to respond.
    “She’s completely freaking out,” Nikole said, lowering her voice. “She thinks the show will tank if she takes a moment to enjoy life.”
    “So I’ve noticed,” I said with a frown. “Which is why I won’t even suggest we fly home for a weekend and have a bachelorette party at Peggy’s.”
    “Thank God for small miracles,” Nikole said with a visible shudder. “I love Peggy’s, but I don’t even want to think about who you’d get as strippers from the local talent.”
    “Strippers, huh?” I raised my eyebrows.
    “You did say it was a bachelorette party, right?” Nik pointed out.
    “Duly noted,” I chuckled. I lowered my voice and leaned conspiratorially toward Nikole. “So how are we going to convince Troian to take a night off for a little mischief?”
    A slow smile spread across Nikole’s face. It almost made me feel sorry for Troian. “You leave that part to me.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter FOUR
     
     
    The day was hot and the sun was at its highest point in the sky, which was the only reason I was happy to be wearing a bikini. Troian similarly wore a bikini top, but she’d paired her swimwear with board shorts in contrast to the long skirt I had wrapped tightly around my waist. I could feel the heat of the pavement through the thin soles of my sandals as we crossed the parking lot and made our way down to the docks. I’d grown up on the Great Lakes, but I’d never seen a harbor like this. Massive boats—bona fide yachts—more expensive than any house I’d ever live in, bobbed up and down on the horizon. The smell of barbeque was in the air, reminding me of a tailgating party.
    “Am I ready for this?” I worried aloud, nervously adjusting the knot of the sarong tied snug around my waist.
    “I don’t think anyone could be ready for this.” Troian slipped her reflector aviators over her eyes. “By the way,” she noted as we descended a wooden staircase to reach sea level, “if anyone asks—which I doubt they will—you’re twenty-nine years old.”
    “Twenty-nine?” I echoed as I continued to follow my friend. “Why?”
    “Because no one in this business is older than that.”
    I stopped in my tracks and stared when I realized which of the many yachts in the harbor was our final destination. The shadow of the oversized boat was cast across the wooden pier. “Hey, Troi?” I called out. “Is Jane gay?”
    Troian regarded me over the top of her sunglasses and smirked. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
    If it hadn’t been late August, I would have thought I’d stumbled onto an MTV Spring Break program. It wasn’t so much the thumping bass pouring from the yacht that gave me pause, but rather the dozens of bikini-clad young women I spied spilling over the sides of the triple-decker boat.
    “Jane has a husband. But it’s pretty well known in the creative community that he’s her beard,” she informed me. “I think he’s the one with the money though, so why he puts up with her shenanigans, I’ll never know.”
    I continued to hesitate on the dock. I was sure my distress was palpable.
    “We won’t stay long,” Troian promised. “I just need to find Jane and say hi and then we can go.”
    “Okay,” I said, although her words did nothing