Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1- Abi
The scent of stale beer and bleach was permanently etched into every surface of the pub. It was 10:42 PM on an icy Thursday, and my hands ached from hauling heavy crates up and down the cellar stairs of Liberty Harbor & Grill in Merritt, Boston. I wiped down the sticky mahogany surfaces for what felt like the sixth time in the last hour, desperately trying to keep myself awake.
The patrons of our dingy, 1980s-style pub were exactly what you’d expect: a steady rotation of neighborhood old men. But the other girls and I never had a reason to worry about them. They looked out for us like surrogate grandfathers, constantly checking to see if we’d eaten that day and marveling at our multitasking skills.
Tonight, though, the crowd was thin. On a freezing weeknight, customers were few and far between.
One of my favorite regulars had just finished his meal. He ordered the same thing every single week for the three years I’d worked here: steak, medium-rare, with peas and fries.
"You need to get some sleep, sweetie. Your eyes look darker than my burnt steak!" John chuckled, stacking his cutlery neatly onto his empty plate as he slid out of the worn pleather booth.
He wasn’t wrong. Balancing a minimum-wage job, endless closing shifts, and a heavy load of online courses was an exhausting existence. I was running entirely on fumes.
"Locking up, Abi," the manager grunted, roughly tossing me the heavy set of keys before slamming the emergency exit closed.
Gavin came across gruff and uninterested, but the other girls and I knew the truth: he was a sweetheart when he wanted to be.
Sighing, I slipped the lousy $12 into my purse, locked up, and double-checked that the lights were off. The goal for tonight was simple: survive the 15-minute walk to the flat, make sure my roommate had eaten, and call it a night.
Addie was a manager at a small clothing store, though her attention seemed fixed on whatever came next. She took business classes after hours and convinced me to sign up for the bank-draining classes for my teaching degree.
Speaking of Addie, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Addie: You on your way home? Girls are here !!!
Oh shit! Our flat hosts every week with our closest friends, and with the exhaustion from the grueling shift and spending every night on extra-credit papers, it slipped my mind.
I quickly liked her message and held my woolen coat closer to my chest. The icy Boston wind whipped around my collar, instantly freezing the back of my neck. I walked as fast as my aching legs would allow, leaving footprints on the frosty side streets of Merritt.
By the time I reached our building and climbed the three flights of rusty, metal stairs, the sound of muffled laughter and glasses clinking was already bleeding through the chipped front door. I pushed it open, greeted instantly by a warm waft of air, comforted by the lazy laughter of my friends.
"Hey! Look who survived!" Addie cheered from the small kitchen island.
Our small two-bedroom flat left a lot to be desired when we first moved in three years ago. Since then, Addie and I spent our free time searching thrift stores, market stalls and estate sales for anything that could liven up the space.
It really had worked; our living room/kitchen was lived in but comforting. A marvelous sight after a long day. It really made the long hours at Liberty worth it.
Yelling my hellos to the girls, I headed to the closet doubling as a makeshift mudroom.
Addie always looked effortless in her matching lounge-wear, her eyes bright despite long hours working and studying. She never had stress acne, something I'd always be jealous of.
The living room was a sea of mismatched pillows, half-empty wine glasses, and my two other friends sprawled across our thrifted couch.
"We saved you some wine, Abi, but Nova was eyeing it up," Indi called out, raising her wineglass and smirking. She was effortlessly gorgeous; golden brown curls kept natural and the prettiest smile.
"Hey! I have self-control!" Nova protested, though her glass looked suspiciously empty. Nova was known to lack self-restraint.
Her most recently obvious decision was her hair; three different shades of pink decorating her head. It complemented her bright green eyes, and she never had trouble attracting anyone's attention.
"You look dead on your feet, babe," Addie sighed, walking over to press a cold glass of white wine into my hand. She looked at me with that familiar concern etched on her face, which usually meant I was going to get the spiel about working too hard. "Sit. Drink. We actually have something to discuss this week."
I cradled the wine in my arms and collapsed into the worn armchair, letting out a long, pathetic groan of protest.
"If this agenda involves anything but me finishing this glass of wine and getting at least 6 hours' sleep tonight, I vote no. My feet are numb!"
"Too bad. This is a democracy, and unfortunately, babe, the majority outvoted you," Addie grins into her glass, watching for my reaction.
I huffed and waved my arm out as a sign for her to continue. If I disturbed her suspicious meeting now, I'd only hear about it tomorrow morning.
The girls instantly sat straighter, their faces lighting up with excitement. My stomach dropped. I knew that look. It's the same look they had when they convinced me to put purple streaks in my hair two years ago, or when they begged me to sign up for the bank-draining online courses.
"What did you do?" I mumbled, eyeing the tablet she pulled from behind the couch.
"We," Addie pointed to herself and the girls, "have decided that you are working too hard. You need a break, Abs. So, we made an executive decision because we love you so much. Say hello to Clover."