MISFIT IN THE CITY: Series One

Episode One: THE BEST WEEKEND EVER (part 2)

Neena held her hand up. "I'm gonna stop you right there. I mean...is pseudo-incest a burgeoning genre? Absolutely. But does that make you my primary demographic? Hardly. But that's okay." She crossed her arms in self-assuredness. "I'm just filling a market need, and writing is a business too."

Alice approached Neena with greasy hands. "Help, I over-lotioned." Neena put her hands out, allowing Alice to spread the excess lotion on the back of her hands. "The business of writing, huh? I see the corporate blood still runs deep."

Neena nodded. "And it will for at least another decade."

"Do you ever miss the day job?"

Neena gave Alice a screw-eyed look. "I wake up at eleven and my uniform is a Snuggie."

***

Neena and Alice's night of trendy cocktails had now given way to the grungy East Village. They trudged along a quiet side street, where the streetlights illuminated an interactive tableau, one in which a man was taking a piss next to a wall of vibrant graffiti.

Alice sneered at the man as they walked by. "How charming."

"Don't let that visual fool you," Neena said. "Because next on our list?" She turned and locked eyes with Alice, like she was back into storytelling mode. "A hidden place that's menu-free; where the cocktails arise from the bartender's inspiration..."

Alice seemed unsure. "No habaneros though, right?"

Neena smiled. "Not even a pinch."

They continued along, failing to walk in a clear straight line, as the first round of cocktails settled into their bloodstreams.

Neena eventually started to slow, looking left and right like she might've gotten lost. "The problem with hidden bars is that they don't show up on Google Maps. Just look for a sign that says 'Joe's Hot Dogs,' which is a nonchalant front for the secret bar."

Alice nodded firmly. "Okay."

"Once we're inside," Neena added, "all we have to do is say the code words 'pig snout and buttholes.'" Alice was cringing now, but Neena was oblivious. "After that, they'll let us in the back through the door to the fake walk-in freezer!"

Alice's phone started buzzing, stealing her focus from Neena's specific instructions.

"Is that your cellphone I hear?" Neena said. "Because texts from the husband are banned until morning!" There was a playful air in Neena's voice, but underneath it she was deadly serious. And why not? Best friends who got married were a lot like endangered species, and she wasn't about to let hers get away.

Alice stopped walking and leaned against a wall, a troubled expression on her face.

Neena turned back and frowned. "What's the matter?"

"It's Derek," Alice said. "He's really sick."

Alice was on the verge of busting out the "husband card," but Neena wouldn't let it phase her. Instead she rolled her eyes. "Relax, it's a man-cold; don't let his Ebola-like reaction fool you."

"I'm sure he'll manage," Alice said, "it's just...we don't have any soup in the house, and there's also this special tea I make..."

Neena reached over and grabbed Alice's phone. She scanned the texts and snorted. "So he complains about being sick and then writes 'enjoy your night' with a smiley face? That is totally passive-aggressive."

In the complicated landscape of grown-up friendships, Neena had crossed an invisible line.

Alice snatched the phone back and scowled. "He's my husband."