cheap thrills :: [malik #fdc]

one. day one

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles." – Tim Cahill

___

Mari was lucky.

Like, really lucky. Like, find $100 on the street, lucky. 97th caller on the radio, lucky. Raffle-winner, lucky. Shit that'll never happen to average people, lucky.

"God's gift," her mama says. "That's all that is."

And Mari believed it.

She believed it so strongly that when she won an expenses-paid, all-inclusive tour through the Latin American countries as a two week vacation through her job she wasn't even surprised.

Grateful, yes.

Surprised? Not so much.

"You're so lucky," said her best friend, Bonnie, on the curb outside of her terminal at the San Diego Airport. "Like, c'mon, Mari. Argentina? Rio? Give me a break, girl."

"Or break me off a piece," called their uber driver, as he hauled her bag from the back of his Prius.

Bonnie nodded, jerking her thumb in his direction. "Or that. Or that, too."

Mari laughed. "If I can, I'll bring you back something," she grinned, opening her arms for a hug. "You know if I could've I'd take you with me--"

"Yeah, yeah," Bonnie grinned. "Eat, pray, love without me, I guess. I'll just be here, lonely and tan in S.D."

"And I'll be lonely too, just in Rio," she smirked. "No difference."

"Excuse me? I'd rather be lonely in a Latin country than fucking San Diego, thank you," and she sighed, throwing her arms around her friend, "Just do me a favor, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Meet a sexy Brazillian and bring him back to me," she winked. "Gift-wrapped."

Mari laughed aloud. "You don't need me to help you catch, Bon-Bon."

"Oh, but I do. We're a team, remember?"

Mari raises her hand for a high-five. "We been doing it since high school, fam!"

The girls laughed and hugged and their uber driver had to clear his throat because he actually did have a job to do.

"I hate to break up this love fest, but..."

The girls broke away.

"...ain't there a flight to catch?"

"Oh!" Bonnie jumped back, "and I almost forgot," and she dove into the car, grabbing for her bag.

The driver groaned.

"Bonnie, you didn't have to--"

"Uh uh," she replied, sticking a neatly wrapped rectangle into her hands. "Don't. I don't wanna hear it," and she grinned, stepping back onto the curb. "Open it at your gate, 'kay? Text me once you have."

And Mari had smiled. "Thanks, best friend," she had grinned, sticking the gift neatly into her carry-on.

"No problem," Bonne replied. "Now, go," she shoos her towards the International Terminal. "If you miss your flight you won't be able to use my gift. Go'on girl."