“Oh, my God! Leila, get down!” I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt as Leila dances along the bar top, shimmying and singing full pelt into the wireless mic of the karaoke machine. She’s in full rock star mode, strutting her stuff like a coyote ugly wannabe. Sarah is so drunk she’s sprawled over the bar, laughing at my poor attempts to control the wild petite blonde.

“Leave her alone, honey. She looks mighty fine up there.” Some sleazy fat man grabs my wrist, tugging my arm ...