The Gaslight was extra packed. Angelica’s dark hair, usually piled atop her head, loosely framed her heart-shaped face. “Cheers, Angelica!” toasted her friends. It was tough, but she passed the bar on the first try.
Everyone was there: Eve, Frances, Frank, Joe, Professor Kendall, Sissy. Everyone, that is, except Lenny. He did not pass. He said he had to work late, but deep inside she knew he was home sulking.
She gulped a shot, then another. Not today, boyfriend, she said to herself. Today you don’t rain on my parade. Her eyes glistened, a cross between alcohol and unshed tears.