My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

  “No way,” I hiss. “I don’t want to look like some stage-five clinger, stalking the guy at work after hooking up with him once.”

  Amelia snorts. “Isn’t that what you’re doing though?”

  I elbow her in the ribs. “No! This was happenstance. I happened to be in the right place at the right time to give that man a piece of my mind.”

  Mercy looks at her watch. “Well, it doesn’t seem like he’s here, so can we go downtown now? I don’t want to miss the show.”

  Looking around one more time, I still don’t see him. “Yeah, I guess.” Rummaging through my bag, I search for some cash to leave for our drinks.

  “Holy shit,” Amelia grabs my arm. “Please tell me that’s Mr. Sexy.”

  I turn and see Ryan wearing the same black Cohen’s T-shirt, which is clinging to every muscle of his perfectly chiseled chest. The same slicked-back hair and piercing blue eyes, which are honed in right on me.

  “You!” I snarl before heading right for him.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryan

  There’s something different in the air—like an extra charge—as I head back to the bar. I scan the room, looking for the source of the energy shift. Everything seems to be normal for the start of a Saturday night. Roxy and Marty are behind the bar, interacting with customers. Maria and Joel are fine on the floor, nothing of interest really taking place.

  Huh? Weird, maybe it’s just my imagination. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten a day or two away from the bar. I think I need to look into a quick day trip somewhere—maybe an afternoon of hiking or mountain climbing. Seems like I may be in need of some Zen.

  Placing my clipboard down at the end of the bar, I glance around one more time and I find it. The reason for the difference. There she stands. The woman who snuck out on me two weeks ago. She’s here, in the middle of my bar, looking sexy in her jean shorts and pink tank top. She was the last thing I expected to see after finishing up inventory of the stock room. Hopefully, she’s here for a repeat session.

  Putting together tomorrow’s liquor order might just have to wait. I feel myself start to get hard just thinking about another night with her. I’m not a monk—far from it. I’ve been with a number of women. But, she’s been the only woman in a long time who has captured my attention.

  She looked so beautifully sad that night she sat here, cursing her ex. There was fire and determination in her eyes while she thought about going out and enjoying the single life. Saying, “Screw you,” to her dumbass ex. There was no way I was going to let her out of here without trying to get her to leave with me instead. No way was I going to let another shithead get his hands on her body when I had two more than fully capable ones that knew just how to make her sing.

  She’s gorgeous. She has it all—wit, beauty, confidence, and a fierce spirit.

  I was shocked and, more importantly, disappointed when I returned from checking on Roxy and the bar downstairs, only to find her gone. When I disappeared with Danielle, I left Roxy a man down—completely screwing her when the late-night rush surged in. I needed to at least check-in. I wasn’t gone for more than twenty minutes, but it was still enough time for her to disappear, leaving behind only her ripped panties. I actually debated keeping them, but that made me feel like a perv.

  I spot Danielle before she notices me. I watch as she speaks with her friends. She turns and her hair fans out around her like she’s in an ad for some hair care product. She pins me with her stare. Her jaw sets, and her eyes narrow. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of her ears.

  She stomps across the floor with her finger pointed at me. “You!”

  What the hell?

  If pure hatred had a look, it would be the one on Danielle’s face. She’s glaring at me as if I told her I set a village of small children on fire.

  “You,” I repeat playfully, hoping to turn that sneer into a smile.

  I don’t know much about this woman, but I do know that she slugged her ex and kicked him in the balls. She looks angry enough to do it again, only this time to my nose and my dick.

  “You asshole!”

  Her voice carries, and the din of the bar quiets as all eyes turn to her when she stops in front of me.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” She stabs her finger into my chest. “You are a disgusting asshole.”

  Disgusting asshole? “What the hell are you talking about? And can you keep your voice down? You’re starting to cause a scene.”

  “I will not keep my voice down,” she yells louder, commanding the attention of the entire room. “I’m going to make a scene! Everyone needs to know you gave me chlamydia! Maybe then, it will prevent you from spreading it to other unsuspecting women!”

  Holy shit! Chlamydia? Is she insane?

  I’ve never had an STD in my life. Never mind passed it along to her.

  Roxy looks at me with a sardonic smile. Marty just shakes his head while the patrons of my bar gasp.

  “I thought I was in for a night of fun, and all I got out of it was an STD and a burning vag! That’s right ladies, this man gave me chlamydia!”

  She pokes me in the chest again, but this time I grab her by the wrist then pull her toward the back office. “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about, but we certainly aren’t going to discuss it in the middle of the bar.”

  “Why?” She scoffs, trying to pull her hand out of my grip. “Don’t want your next victim to hear?”

  I wrangle her in the room and close the office door behind us before turning toward her. “No, because I don’t have chlamydia, nor did I give it to you.”

  She narrows her eyes in a scowl as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I woke up naked and alone in some strange loft. No note from you. Nothing. You pumped and dumped. And my vagina was perfectly disease-free until I slept with you two weeks ago. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

  Wonderful. In all of my twenty-eight years, I’ve made sure to keep my dick clean. Looks like tomorrow, I’ll be stopping in at the clinic because if she has it, then there’s a damn good chance I do as well. Fuck me. Two seconds inside her bare pussy is going to cost me.

  I guess it could be worse. At least it isn’t warts or syphilis or herpes.

  “Look,” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t get it from me. I’ve never had an STD. I do get checked every six months, and I’ve never had a single thing come back. I hate to say this, but your ex was cheating on you. Isn’t it more likely you got it from him?”

  She cocks her hip to the side and plants her hand on it. “He was cheating on me for a while. I didn’t get anything until I slept with you. Is that why you didn’t want me to leave and find someone else that night? Do you enjoy spreading shit around to unsuspecting women? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I just stare at her with no clue what I’m supposed to say or do. This is not a situation I ever thought I would be in. I might be a bit of a ladies’ man, but I’m careful. I don’t want any little Ryans running around the city with random women. Even if a woman tells me she’s on her own birth control, I still use a condom. Danielle caught me off guard. She shoved me down on the couch and had me inside her before I could even get the word condom out.

  “No,” I say gently since it seems she’s a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. “I asked you to stay because I’m attracted to you and wanted to spend the night with you. No other motives. I’m not sure what you want me to do here. I’m going to have to get tested myself, but I honestly think you’re blaming the wrong guy.”

  She steps closer to me. “I don’t—” Her words cut off, and she pauses for a moment.

  The color of her skin changes right in front of me as her own eyes widen just before she bends over and throws up. The projectile vomit sprays my jeans before hitting the floor with a slap.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Not the kind of exploding I was expecting.

  Danielle looks a bit dizzy. Ignoring the
puke covering me and the floor, I guide her over to the small sofa against the wall.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Her forehead breaks out in a sweat, and she looks like she could be sick again.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t feel so good.”

  I take the trash bin and place it down next to her before grabbing a few new bar rags from the box in the corner. I wipe my pants down the best I can before I head out onto the floor to get her friends.

  The two ladies are still sitting at the same spot at the bar. “You two came with Danielle, right? She could use a little help.” I nod in the direction of my office.

  They follow me back as they glance between one another.

  When I open the door, we are slapped in the face with the stench of vomit. One of the women gags. “Oh shit. That’s foul.”

  Danielle is lying across the tiny couch, clutching the trash bin that I don’t think any vomit actually made it into. The small room reeks.

  The brunette holds her nose. “I told her she should chill with mixing shots and medication.”

  “Danielle,” the other one says. “Honey, are you okay?”

  Danielle moans an undecipherable word before this time heaving into the trash bin.

  “We need to get her home,” the dark-haired one says to the other.

  “You want me to hail you a cab?” I ask, eager to get them out of here. I’ve had some weird nights, but this one takes the cake. Being a bar owner, this isn’t the first time I’ve been puked on. But usually it’s by some kid who was dumb enough to try the Relishness— a shot of Goldschlägger with a dollop of relish on top. It’s certainly not the first time someone’s made a scene in my bar. But this is the first time the scene was about me. I like to keep my life drama-free. But this whole situation is drama overload. I need to get them out of here so I can think straight.

  “Nah,” the blonde one says. “I’ll call an Uber.”

  “Are you sober enough to get home?” As ready as I am to get them out of here, I’m not going to let them leave if they can’t be safe.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” she answers.

  “Nothing like the stench of puke to kill your buzz,” the other one adds.

  When they get the alert that the Uber is here, I head out front and direct the driver around to the back alley. The last thing I need is someone to record this woman being carried out of my bar after screaming about me infecting her.

  I pick Danielle up off the couch and guide the group out through the back door. Danielle is still grasping the trash can for dear life, so I do the driver a solid and let her keep it. After placing her in the back of the car, I close the door.

  Looking over to her friends on the other side, I say, “Listen, for what it’s worth, I didn’t put her in this situation. I’ve never once had any STDs. Her ex seems to be a real asshole though.”

  Neither of them says a word before getting into their ride and driving off.

  Before heading back, I swing by the loft and grab a new pair of pants. Thank God for this loft. Heading across town to my place with puke on my pants would not be a pleasant experience.

  After I change and head back behind the bar, I’m greeted by a grinning Roxy.

  “I did not give that woman chlamydia.”

  She shakes her head and laughs before heading down the bar to serve drinks.

  My heads swims with the events of the last twenty minutes. Danielle has me questioning whether or not it’s possible I infected her.

  There’s no way.

  I haven’t had a single symptom.

  Shit, I don’t even really know anything about the disease.

  I turn to head back to my office, and then I remember it’s currently a hazmat zone, covered in vomit. Fan-fucking-tastic. I grab the mop bucket, bleach and paper towels out of the supply closet.

  Half an hour later, my office is clean enough to be used for surgery and reeks of bleach. My shoulders slump as I plop my tired ass into my seat. Leaning my head against the head rest, I close my eyes and try to wrap my frazzled brain around tonight.

  None of this makes sense. Her ex was cheating on her. How could she believe this came from me? I should’ve known something was up with the woman when she caught my interest that night. Typically, I’m not that guy. I see a lot of women. A lot of beautiful, stop-you-in-your-tracks women. I’ve taken more than my share home with me, but no one has made me curious about them before. None had me wondering about their feelings like she did that night. My hands are full running the bar. With the number of bars that go belly-up every year, I need to keep my attention where it belongs—on my business. I don’t have the time or energy for anything more than a good time.

  But Danielle. Fuck, she intrigued me. When I came upstairs and found her gone, I should’ve been relieved to not have to ask her to leave. Instead, I felt … I’m not sure what it was. I was disappointed, sure, but things also felt unfinished. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

  Ironically, she just told my whole fucking bar that I gave her the clap. No, wait … that’s gonorrhea. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

  My dick feels fine though.

  How could I have chlamydia and not know it?

  I search on my phone and discover that it’s not always accompanied by any symptoms.

  Great.

  Maybe I do have it.

  My fingers fly over the screen and find Evan’s name.

  “Hey,” he answers.

  “Have you ever had chlamydia?” I get right to the point.

  His laugh lasts a solid minute. God, sometimes, he can be such a child.

  “No, but I’m guessing you do.”

  I shake my head as if he can see me. “No—or I could. The woman from a few weeks ago came into the bar tonight, ranting in front of everyone that I gave it to her. But wouldn’t I know if I had it? I feel like I would know if something was up with my junk. You were a dog in college. I figured maybe you had a mishap or two.”

  “Nope. I’m clean, but I think my roommate freshman year got something. I don’t remember what, but I do remember him looking like he wanted to cry when he came back from the bathroom.”

  “See, I can’t stop thinking I would know if my shit was infected.”

  He’s quiet for a moment. “Isn’t that the one that’s easy to spread because it goes undetected? But either way, you always wrap, dude. How could you have it?”

  “Things got hot and heavy quick, and she slid down on me before I could stop her.”

  “Duuude.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, good luck, man. Let me know if it starts to burn when you piss.”

  Dick.

  Chapter Eleven

  Danielle

  I’m pretty sure there’s a little minion with a jackhammer inside my head, chiseling away at the nerve endings in my brain. My head throbs and pounds. My stomach churns, and the rest of my body feels as if it went through a battle.

  The nasty taste in my mouth doesn’t help with the nausea.

  My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I try to lick my lips. I’m so thirsty. I can smell coffee and hear clattering in the kitchen, but my body and brain are not communicating properly. My body doesn’t want to move.

  Snippets of last night flash in my mind, making me really hope it was all a dream. Please, for the love of God, let me have dreamed that rage-induced episode in Cohen’s.

  There’s no way that me, Little Miss Responsible, shouted my business out to an entire bar and then threw up on Mr. Chlamydia.

  What the hell has happened to my perfect life? All my dreams were coming true. Now, everything is a mess.

  Can I just hide under my blankets for the next month and hope that the misalignment of the cosmos or whichever planet is in retrograde goes back to the way it was? Back to everything falling in place for me rather than falling apart all around me?

  Pulling my thick white down comforter up and over my head, I roll over, groaning, and curl into a ball. My s
tomach growls and tosses simultaneously, making me crave an everything bagel with cream cheese while also cringing at the thought of it.

  Footsteps echo in the hall outside my door.

  “I know you’re up.” Amelia’s voice carries through the air. “You can’t hide in there forever.”

  “Maybe not,” I call out from under the covers. “But it can’t hurt to try.”

  The door creaks open, and then the bed dips. I should’ve thought before I opened my mouth because, for my sister, that was basically an invitation to come on in.

  “Come on, Dani,” she coos in faux sweetness. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Ha.” I snort. “You can’t fool me. I know it was bad, and the minute I come out from under here, you’re going to make me relive it and mercilessly make fun of me. I’m sure Mercy isn’t too far behind.”

  “Actually”—she laughs—“Mercy went home last night. We drew straws to decide who got to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and lucky me, I got the short straw.”

  “None of this is funny,” I say indignantly as I toss the thick blanket down and jackknife up, which only serves to intensify the hammering in my skull. “It’s downright humiliating. In case you haven’t noticed, my life is basically in shambles. Last night, I announced to an entire bar I have chlamydia before throwing up on the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, you poor, pathetic soul.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “I’m giving you ten minutes to get your ass out of bed, brush that nasty taste from your mouth, and change out of those clothes. We’re going to have a sister-to-sister heart-to-heart.”

  Pathetic soul? Freaking bitch.

  “I can’t have a sister-to-sister heart-to-heart because I’m disowning you. You’re a terrible person, Amelia, and I’m now accepting applications to replace you since you have zero compassion.”

  She looks at me with a sad smile and shakes her head. “I know. I’m awful. So awful that I made you breakfast and brewed your coffee. Stop being so dramatic and get up.”