Greta used her pinky to adjust her lipstick as she stared into the gold trimmed mirror. She fixed her blazer and stepped back to catch a glimpse of her hemline. She smiled, then her face relaxed, she smiled again and relaxed, then shook her head.

"I need a fucking drink."

"I know what you mean!" A voice echoed out of one of the stalls.

"Shit!" Greta jumped and braced herself on the sink.

"You're some jumpy." The woman flushed and opened the door, she was wearing all black, and makeup that didn't look fresh.

"I just didn't think anybody else was in here." Greta inspected the woman's mournful style and said, "a little drab for a bridal shower, don't you think?"

"Normally I'd agree." The woman checked herself out in the mirror, pouting her mouth and tilting her hips. "But I'm not a guest, I'm working."

"Oh, right. Well, thanks for . . . that."

"Jesus, you really do need a drink. Are you always this tense?"

"Tense? I'm not tense, I'm fine."

"What ever. I'll make sure to bring you some wine or something."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Greta sighed and rolled some tension from her neck. "Strict orders not to drink today."

"Why?"

"My sister's the bride . . . my mom think I'm a drunk . . . I'm allergic to liquor? I don't know, why do people ever tell other people not to drink."

The woman in black leaned against the sink and stared at Greta. "You're funny."

"No I'm not."

"No . . . you're not."

Greta chuckled. "Didn't you just hear me say I'm the sister of the bride? You're a server, doesn't that mean you have to be nice to me?"

"Is that how you deal with forced sobriety? By ordering people to be nice to you?"

"No . . . that's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I'm Greta, by the way."

The woman stared at Greta, the right side of her mouth twisted and she laughed. "I know," she said and walked away.

"That was weird." Greta waited a moment before following the woman out of the bathroom. As soon as she was surrounded by the giggles and small talk of her sister's bridal shower, she felt a pincer grip grab hold of her elbow.

"Jesus, Greta! I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Ow!" Greta wrenched her arm loose and rubbed her sore elbow. "Carla, have you been lifting weights or something?"

"I'm getting married, I've been working out everyday for months."

"Of course you have." Greta rolled her eyes. "As if you're not skinny enough already."

"What does that mean?"

"Look at those hips, Carla! You're like a flag pole, only skinnier."

"What ever, I don't have time for your jealousy, I wanna introduce you to my bride's maids."

"Not good enough to be one but I still have to meet them all, huh?"

Carla seemed to ignore Greta as she ushered her to the front of the room. Three women were standing together, wearing purple versions of Carla's white a-line.

"Greta, this is Tiffany Li, my best friend of school."

"Hello," the shortest of the three bride's maids smiled and bowed her head towards Greta. "It is nice to be meeting you."

"Why is she whispering?" Greta asked Carla as she shook Tiffany's hand.

"And of course you know Jolene."

"Hi." The red headed one said with a smile that didn't move her eyes. "It's been so long, how long have you been gone away for anyway?" Greta tried to answer but Jolene kept speaking. "You know Is till remember that time we were all at my daddy's country club and we were brushing the horses. Do you guys remember that?"

"What? No, I have no idea--"

"Oh right!" Greta was cut off by Carla as she laughed. "Greta, you were brushing that one black one's tail!"

"Nope, never happened."

"And the it farted!" Jolene laughed even louder.

"And it sprayed shit all over you!" Carla joined in the laughter.

"I don't think that actually--"

"Oh my God! You cried for like, a week!" Carla was laughing harder now, Tiffany's shattering glass laughter rang out now too. "I swear, your hair smelled like horse shit for even longer."

"That's not--"

"You know, it turned out that horse had some sort of virus." Jolene nodded. "You're lucky you didn't get sick. Daddy had to put it down."

Carla stopped laughing and Tiffany's face twisted. "You never told me that. I loved that horse."

"Carla, you never understood horses." Jolene rolled her eyes. "There were like, seven black ones in that stable and you thought they were all the same."

"Oh . . ." Everyone sank into an awkward moment of silence before Carla turned with a smile to the third and final bride's maid. "And this is Rahel."

"I'm sorry, were you just choking on something?" Greta patted her sister's back.

"No, my name is Rahel." The tall, muscular woman's voice was deep. Her eyes were covered with blunt bangs that were too long and it forced her to look down her nose at the others.

"Rahel . . . nice to meet you." Greta shook the woman's hand and grimaced at her grip.

"She's Mordecai's sister."

"What!" Greta turned on her sister. "Ol' Morty's sister's good enough to stand with you at your wedding but your own sister isn't?"

"What? Where's this coming from?"

"You never even thought about asking me, did you?"

"I just . . . I didn't think it was your thing. If you want to be in my wedding we can fit you in. Oh! You can do a reading!"

"A fucking reading? Really?"

"Excuse me ladies." Greta heard the metallic leg of her mother approach from behind. "We're not arguing are we?"

"No," Carla said and frowned at her sister, "mom, Greta wants to be in the wedding."

"What? Out of the question! Do you know how much time I've put into planning this? I can't just throw another person into the mix like that."

"I don't want to be in the wedding!"

"But you were all upset about Rahel, and I don't want my only sister mad at me!"

"I'm not mad, I don't care!"

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, mom, I haven't been drinking!"

"Then why are you so erratic? You're all flushed and angry."

"I'm not angry!"

"You sound angry." Carla grabbed Greta's hand and she pulled it away.

"Well I'm not." Greta spun around and left the others behind as she made her way to the tables at the far end of the room. She flopped down into a chair and noticed her mother and sister still watching her and whispering.

"You don't remember me at all, do you?"

Greta nearly fell out of her chair. She held onto her chest and turned her head to see the woman in black, only now she was carrying a large circular tray with only one drink on it.

"Yeah, from the bathroom."

"No, from high school."

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, we went to school together?"

"Sandra. Sandra Ellis?" The woman sat down, still balancing the tray on her hand. "I was a freshman the year you graduated. I used to show up to your friends' parties."

"Oh yeah?"

"Of course, I would never be able to stay long."

"Well, you know high school politics. Freshmen and seniors don't mix and all that other bull shit."

"I brought you something. You know, cause I was kind of a bitch earlier." Sandra lifted the drink from her tray and put it down in front of Greta.

"What's this?"

"Rum and coke."

"Thanks but . . . " She looked at her mother and sighed. "I really shouldn't. I promised my mom I wouldn't drink at the shower."

"So . . . let's get outta here."

"Aren't you working?"

"Yeah, but it's getting slow around here. Not much to do, that normally means they cut slackers like me. I know a place not far from here that has an afternoon happy hour."

Greta chewed the inside of her mouth as she stared at Sandra. "Yeah okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I never liked these things anyway."

"Awesome. I'll just go like, drop something or what ever. Piss someone off enough to send me home, you know? Just wait here!"