I spend part of the ride on my cell phone with Tommy and the rest trying not to stare at Livia's ring.

I still can't believe that in one year, she'll actually have landed herself a husband. And not just any husband, but Jack Tanner: Former rock star, perpetual hottie. It just so happens that he's not only gorgeous, but rich, too. He owns his own construction business nowadays, but he's probably still cashing in on the royalties from two of his songs that used to play on the radio like all the time.

My mother always says not to count other people's money, but I have to imagine that those two are doing alright for themselves. Not that you'd know it.

Livia lives by herself in the same, boring, two-bedroom apartment in Clifton that she's rented forever. And Jack's townhouse is in Shermer Heights, of all places, and truly nothing to write home about.

I can't believe they never moved in together after all this time, but Livia kept insisting that she wasn't ready. That is, I guess, until now.

We find a parking space right on 94th Street, only a few steps around the corner from The Ski Bar. Just as our feet hit the sidewalk, Livia notices the No Parking sign lying next to the curb. I should have known getting a great spot on the first try was too good to be true.

Tess says, "Okay, you guys all go inside and I'll drive around until I find another spot and meet you in there."

Livia pipes in with, "No way. I'll go find a new spot. You already drove us here."

Vix protests, "We're not letting either of you walk around this city by yourself! Besides, it's your night, Liv. I'll take the ride with Tess and we'll both meet you all in there."

I am about to puke from their sugary politeness. Finally, I say, "I'll tell you what. The sign is down which in New York means that this is now a perfectly legal place to park. On the off chance that we actually get a ticket, I volunteer to pay for it in full. It's worth it just to not have to walk ten miles back to the car. Okay?"

The girls all look at each other and shrug. "The sign is down..." Livia reasons. The fact is, none of us wants to be trekking around the city streets, teetering on our four-inch heels for countless blocks all night. So we leave the car where it is and off to the bar we go.

The bouncer at the door actually checks our IDs—God bless him—and we head inside.

The Ski Bar looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was here, probably when I was twenty-five. Winter sports motif—hence the bar's name—with lots of white "snow" all around, and a six foot ice luge set up at the main bar for delivering chilled shots of liquor.

The luge is the first destination we head for, and with Tess leading the way, most of the male eyes in the place are following.

By the time she positions her open mouth at the bottom of the chute, we have an impressive-sized crowd surrounding our group, cheering her on as she downs her ounce of Absolut.

During the melee, two drunken idiots nudge into me while trying to get a better look, and I end up backing into a side table. I let them pass, but when I step forward, I realize there is something sticking to the bottom of my pink shawl. I grab the edge of my wrap and see a wad of chewed gum smashed into the hem of the whisper-thin silk.

Great.

I yell to the two guys, "Thanks a lot, assholes. This is a Gucci pashmina!"

Isla is the only one of our group to take notice. She comes over as I take the shawl off, trying to help me pick off the blue, sticky mass to no avail. The guys offer to buy me a beer and I let them. It's the least they could do. What are they, ten? What grown person shoves their way through a crowd like that?

By this time, the other girls have found their way through the small throng, bearing handfuls of liquor and lemons. Liv sees my face and asks what happened.

All I say is, "Gum," and plant my ass down on the nearest barstool to resume the extrication.

"Here. Drink this," she says as she hands me a shot glass.

I clink glasses with the other girls and down the shot, realizing too late that it's Tequila. As my face relays the burning of my esophagus, Liv laughs and hands me a wedge of lemon. "I should have warned you that it was Tequila. I promise that's the only one we'll have to do."

"Yuck! I should hope so," I say as I suck on the lemon.

"Sorry. It's tradition."

Isla remembers her Mary Ellen's Helpful Hints and offers to get me some ice. She comes back from the bar with the idiot twins who have made good on their beer offer.

Bud Light. How exotic.

Liv says, "Hey, Shane, why don't you just shove the thing in your purse? That sleeveless top is pretty enough on its own. I know it sucks, but don't let this ruin your night."

I stop picking and look at my friend. Has she lost her mind?

"Livia... This is a Gucci pashmina! I can't just leave the gum in it! It costs more than their lives." I nod my head in the direction of the two idiots, who are presently trying to hit on Sam and Isla.

Liv shushes me and then helps in my attempt to freeze the remaining bits of offending goo.

That is, until Tess whisks her off onto the dance floor, leaving me flat.

I spend thirty whole minutes on the project—alone, thank you very much—and then another ten in the bathroom trying to dry the wet spot from the melted ice with the weak-ass hand-blower on the wall.

Nice way to spend my first hour at this place.

Once I'm finally satisfied that I've done the best I could with my task, I slip the wrap around my shoulders and head back out into the bar.

The girls are at the edge of the dance floor, yukking it up with a few guys, none of which are of any interest to me. I hover near the outside of their circle because I'm not really into hanging out with these dorks. I've got a perfectly good man waiting for me at home. Well, not at home, but... you know what I mean.

As it turns out, the guys are work friends of Vix's. She has a job here in the city at some advertising agency. I think she's like the VP of marketing or something like that. Whatever. I couldn't imagine having to commute back and forth to New York with the rest of the bridge and tunnel crowd every day.

Livia throws her arm around me and tries to pull me into the pack, but I usher her away a few paces onto the dance floor. While the rest of the group continues with their conversation, Liv and I break into our usual dance floor antics, putting on a total sex show for the guys who are turning their attentions our way, just eating it up. I try out my most suggestive moves, grinding against her just a little bit for the benefit of our audience. Guys just love it when you hint that they have a shot at a threesome. Not that I would ever actually do something like that. But it's fun to see their faces.

One brave soul tries to get into the act, so I let Livia get back to Those Girls while I dance with him. He says his name is William, I think, and offers to buy me a beer.

It's weird—I don't normally drink beer anymore, but being here brings me back to the days when we seldom drank anything else. I'm actually really enjoying hanging out here with my friend, throwing back a few Buds and dancing to some classic rock. It feels like high school again.

Especially when I hear Liv whooping it up with Those Girls as they toast her engagement and clink glasses without me. 

Gee, thanks.