A question caught me by surprise-3

“I know, it’s a little revealing. Must be nice not to worry about
that,” Jen fired back. It was not secret that Vicky’s figure was a little
on the boyish side, and her manner of dress did nothing to help that fact,
but even I had to admit it was a low blow.

“Why don’t we get drinks?” I suggested, eager to diffuse the situation.
Jennifer, sensing that she’d been offered an opportunity to exit the
conversation gracefully, excused herself and faded into the crowd. Vicky
and I made our way to the bar, where Dave, at least, I think it was Dave,
offered us both a bright red cup full of coldish beer.

Despite early setbacks, the night held some promise. There would be
drinking, there would be dancing, and hopefully the combination of alcohol
and poor judgment would make Vicky the Ice Queen a little more pliable in
the bedroom.

Unfortunately, Vicky insisted on talking instead of drinking, and
instead of receiving another lecture on the genius of Albert Hitchcock, I
was treated to an angry tirade about my sister.