My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

  I take her hand and head toward the exit door. “Is that what you think? Do you feel like you missed out on something or someone?”

  “I don’t know,” she says as we step outside. “I don’t know that I did, but I don’t know that I didn’t either. I never pegged Scott for a cheater, so I wonder how many guys I misjudged and how many times. Did I miss out on someone who could’ve been my one because I couldn’t think past one night?”

  Squeezing her hand, I softly smile at her. “I think it’s impossible to miss your one, babe. When you meet him, you’ll know. The signs will be there, and you won’t miss them.”

  She yanks my arm, turning me toward her. The sun is low in the sky, framing her head like a halo as she speaks, “That’s why I think you need to give Ryan a chance. At least one more. All the signs are there, Dani. If Scott hadn’t done what he did, you would’ve never met Ryan. The universe keeps throwing you two back together. Don’t overlook that because of the circumstances bringing you together.”

  The glow of the sun behind her makes her look like she’s delivering a prophecy. “Okay, Mercy. I’ll think about it.” I don’t really have intentions to reach out to him, but it seems like she needs this to hold on to. “If we connect again, I’ll consider things between us. We don’t even know if he wants to actually see me. He could’ve just been taking pity on me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryan

  The energy in the bar is intense. It’s packed. Friday nights are busy, but this is a whole other level.

  “I told you Battle of the Bartenders would be great!” Roxy’s excitement is infectious. It’s what is keeping the crowd going, and it’s close to midnight.

  Roxy is one of the best mixologists in the city. Several big-name bars around town have tried to poach her, but she’s never left me.

  She answered a job listing I put out for a bartender when I took over this place six years ago, fresh out of college. My grandparents had left my sister and me a nice inheritance when they passed. I had known my sophomore year of college what I wanted to do with it. Everyone told me it was too risky, opening a bar in the city where there are two or three of them on every block. But I didn’t care. I knew it was the right move for me. This is the perfect career for me. It makes me happy, keeps me on my toes, and is never boring.

  Roxy was looking for a job where the owner would give her the ability to be creative and make her own drinks. I didn’t have a problem with that. Hell, it was just what I was looking for. I wanted to have a bar that was different.

  Hence, a star was born. Roxy has this incredible ability of reading and connecting with people. I’ve seen her create drinks for customers after only a few questions, and nine out of ten times, it’s a perfect match.

  Tonight, she and Aiden are going against each other to see who makes the better drink. Aiden is getting his ass kicked.

  It was all Roxy’s idea. It’s brilliant. It’s a fifty-dollar cover, and the four battle drinks are included. Toss in three-dollar beers and half-priced appetizers, and it’s even better. A night out for a hundred bucks has Cohen’s filled with wall-to-wall people. The fact that Roxy’s gorgeous and Aiden’s popular with the ladies helps too.

  “You were right.” I nod, scanning the bar. “This was a great idea.”

  Her smile is megawatt. “Wait until you hear all my other ones.”

  Theme nights sound like the perfect thing to try out this summer. Especially if all of them turn out this big of a crowd.

  “Who is ready for the final round?” Roxy calls out as she heads back to the center of the bar where Aiden is currently chatting up some women.

  Marty looks like he’s doing okay with getting all the other drinks out, and Maria and Joel are taking orders, so I grab the empty-glass trays and bring them to the kitchen to check on the cook.

  “How’s it going back here, Bob?”

  Bob turns from the grill, spatula in hand. “Good. The plates in the window are dying. They need to get out now.”

  I grab the two plates of sliders. “I’m on it.”

  On my way out of the kitchen, I call out to Mike, the dishwasher. “Hey buddy, we could use some more short glasses behind the bar. Roxy is starting the last round.”

  He nods. “Okay, I’ll get them right out.”

  A group of people standing in the center of the bar shifts, and I can see who is sitting at the table I’m delivering to. The two girls who were here with Danielle last weekend.

  My eyes instinctively search over the crowd, trying to see if I can spot Danielle’s blonde hair.

  “She’s not here,” the dark-haired one says as I approach.

  Placing the plates down on the table, I ignore her comment and smile. “Here you go. Can I get you anything else at the moment?”

  “We could use a few minutes of your time when things die down a bit,” the blonde says.

  “Why?” My voice sounds harsh, even to my own ears. I didn’t intend for it to come out like that, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind.

  “We want to talk to you about Danielle.”

  “What else could there be left to talk about?”

  I don’t know if I can handle any more bomb drops from this woman. There’s no way she’s pregnant—at least, not from me. My STD screening came back negative for everything else, so there’re no more surprises there.

  The brunette cocks her head to the side and gives me a small shrug of her shoulder. “Just hear us out.”

  Evan’s voice in my head shouts at me to stay away from this, but the devil on my shoulder wants to know what they want to talk about. He wins.

  “Okay. If you’re still here when things wind down, we can talk.”

  The girls have patience, I’ll give them that. The crowd is finally starting to thin as closing time approaches

  “Did you see who is sitting at table eleven?” Roxy asks as she washes mixing tins.

  “They’re waiting for me. Caught me about an hour ago and said they want to talk.”

  She laughs. “This should be interesting.”

  “Should I get my phone handy?” Aiden asks. “If something’s about to go down, I want to make sure we get video this time.”

  “Want to work the afternoon shift for the next two weeks?” I ask.

  He puts his phone back in his pocket.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  My mind is whirling with a thousand different things they could want to talk to me about as I cross the bar.

  I pull up a chair from another table. “What can I do for you, ladies?”

  The brunette taps her fingers on the table, clearly sizing me up. “So, do you sleep with every girl you meet in this bar.”

  The blond elbows her in the ribs.

  “Ouch,” she shouts, rubbing her side. “What was that for?”

  “Don’t be a bitch.” She elbows her again. “And, don’t slut shame.”

  “I’m not,” Friend-One says. “But he did sleep with Dani half-a second after meeting her. I just want to know if he’s a douche. It’s a reasonable question.”

  The blonde looks at me. “Having a healthy sex-life isn’t a crime. No judgement here.”

  I have no idea what to make of all this, but it screams unnecessary drama to me. “Was there something specific you need, or are you just here to cast judgement?”

  Friend-One starts to speak, but Friend-Two interrupts. “Danielle is so embarrassed about, . . . well, you know.”

  “No. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.” I probably know, but I still can’t figure out what’s going on here, so I’m going to make them spell it out.

  “The accusing you of giving her chlamydia. Then puking all over you,” Friend-One says.

  “Oh, don’t forget about actually giving him chlamydia. She really feels like shit about that,” Friend-Two chimes in.

  I can’t help but shift in my seat. “Ah. Yeah, she apologized. It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”

  Friend-Two smil
es. “Good. I’m glad you feel that way, because, like I said she feels bad because of . . . all those things. She’s mortified. So mortified that she won’t make a move on a guy whom she really likes. If you catch my drift.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

  “I know I don’t know her very well, but the last word I would use to describe Danielle is shy. She doesn’t seem to have any problem doing exactly what she wants.”

  Friend-One chimes in. “You’re right. You don’t know her. The Danielle you’ve met is an anomaly. She isn’t the type to just fuc—”

  Friend-Two elbows her again. “We’re getting off track.”

  Friend-One elbows her back. “How do you like it, huh?”

  They get into an elbow shoving match.

  “Ladies,” I shout. “I have a bar to clean, so can we stay on topic?”

  Friend-Two pulls a pen out of her bag then scribbles on her cocktail napkin. “Long story short, you should call her.”

  I narrow my eyes. “So, you two are here to play matchmaker? I’d think if Danielle wanted me to call, she’d give me her number herself. That’s what everyone who’s graduated junior high does.”

  Friend-One rolls her eyes. “Haven’t you been listening. She gave you an STD, embarrassed you, and ruined a sofa with her puke. She wants to see you again, but she’s too humiliated to come out from under her rock. So, you need to be the bigger person and make the first move.”

  “Well, when she gets over it, she knows where to find me.” I stand up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to clean up. Thanks for coming in. Come back anytime.”

  Friend-One jumps up. “Wait! You two have chemistry. Had you not met her during the worst week of her life, this would have all gone really differently. Give her a do-over. You have no idea how much she deserves one.”

  Friend-Two stands up then pushes the napkin with the phone number into my hand. “Just call her, okay?” She looks at Friend-One and nods toward the door. “Let’s go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Danielle

  My phone buzzes on the counter. The moment I see the message, my eyes stay glued to the screen, as if the words will somehow change or perform some kind of trick.

  Unknown: Things got a little busy last time I saw you and we didn’t get to make new plans. So, about that dinner?

  I don’t have to ask who it is because I already know. What I really want to know is where he got my number. Ignoring the dinner ingredients on the counter that need to be put away, I decide to play the game a little bit. Why does he want me to come back? You’d think the man would want me to stay as far away from him as possible.

  Me: How’d you get my number?

  Unknown: I have my ways.

  A feeling deep in my gut tells me that Mercy had something to do with this. She couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Ryan didn’t magically get my phone number, and she hasn’t brought up fate pushing us together again since the other day.

  Me: Did Mercy give you my number?

  Unknown: I don’t know a Mercy.

  Me: Maybe not by name, but she’s a feisty brunette who has a habit of sticking her nose in places she shouldn’t.

  Unknown: Doesn’t ring a bell. Now, about that meal?

  Do I want to have dinner with this man? The stupid girl in me absolutely does. He’s hot. Great in bed. Has a pierced dick. The non-hormonal part of my brain says, Quit while you’re ahead.

  Me: I’ll think about it.

  That’s a good enough answer for the time being. It’s true too. It’s going to be all I think about the whole weekend. Plus, it’s technically keeping my word with Mercy, so she won’t be able to give me shit when she finds out about this. Although, I’d bet my last dollar she already knows.

  My finger hovers over Mercy’s name, as I’m ready to call her and demand answers to what she was thinking, giving my number out, but instead, I lock the phone and toss it down.

  I have plans for today that don’t involve thinking about Ryan. Or arguing with my best friend.

  Yoga.

  Perusing Pinterest for classroom theme ideas.

  Searching Facebook Marketplace for things I can grab for my classroom.

  Cooking myself shrimp Alfredo since Scott was allergic to shellfish.

  Ryan is not in the plan.

  Ryan: Still thinking about it?

  Seeing Ryan’s name displayed on the screen makes me smile—and yes, of course, I saved his number.

  I can practically hear his deep, rough voice that is a perfect combination of sexy and confident—the same as the way he spoke to me that first night I met him. I can envision the tilt of his head and sparkle in his eyes as he asks the question, only not actually asking me if I’m still thinking about having dinner with him, but telling me that he knows I’ve been thinking about it and him—like when he told me we both knew I was lying about his ability to find a clit.

  Me: Shouldn’t you be working or something?

  He worked last Saturday, and I’d assume that his best shifts are Saturdays. It’s a nice bar in the city, and his fine ass is serving drinks.

  All afternoon, I’ve done everything in my power to not think about him.

  During yoga, I focused on my breathing to keep thoughts of him out of my head.

  On Pinterest, I found an entirely new theme for my classroom just so I could distract myself. Three hours later, I found everything I’ll need to make my classroom into a monkeys and jungle theme. We’re bananas about learning. The kids are going to love it.

  After that, I scoured Facebook Marketplace to see if there was anything I could use for the kids. Beanbags. Books. Center toys. Someone uptown was getting rid of a ton of children’s books, and I was able to score them. You can never have enough of them in your classroom. Especially in kindergarten. The larger the library, the more chances for a child to fall in love with reading.

  I’m rocking out to some old-school Backstreet Boys because what makes you as happy and carefree for the moment as ’90s boy bands? I swear, I’m instantly transported back to my teenage years. Back to a time when the world looked so bright and wonderful. I need that today. I need to be reminded that there’s still so much out there, and it’s up to me to explore it and find what makes me happy.

  Ryan: Perk of owning the place: I can take a break whenever I want. But it’s not too busy yet, and I’ve got a pretty girl I need to convince to have dinner with me.

  Ignoring his compliment for now, I focus on the other part of that sentence. His bar? Wow. I had no idea he owned the place. I knew he was more than a bartender after seeing the photos in the office, but him owning the place never crossed my mind. He seems fairly young, not much older than me. I totally had him pegged as a carefree bar manager who uses his job to pick up women. I guess he’s really a sexy business owner who uses his bar to pick up women. No wonder he said his job was secure. I’m such an idiot.

  Me: I bet you use that line on all the ladies.

  Ryan: I might if I had to convince them.

  The way he acts as if we haven’t had the worst and most awkward interactions makes the idea of him seem less … I don’t know … I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but it stirs something inside me. Actually, Ryan himself stirs something inside me. He makes me feel a kaleidoscope of emotions, my senses and thoughts spinning and morphing with every twist and turn of this crazy thing between us. One minute, I want to stay as far away from him as possible, and the next, he’s front and center, taking over my mind.

  Ryan: What about you? What do you do during the day?

  Are we going to do the let’s get to know each other thing now? This should be a positive thing, right? He wants to know me, outside of a bed and how to play with my body. We both already know just how much he knows about my body. Or the female body in general, I guess. See, this man scrambles my brain.

  Me: Right now, I’m a camp counselor. During the school year, I’m a kindergarten teacher.

  Ryan: I wish my teachers were as sexy as you.


  That hits right between my thighs. After everything, the man can turn me on like a light switch—and through a freaking text message. It’s unbelievable. Even when I was mad and yelling at him last weekend, he still managed to get to me. It was hard to focus at first because everything from our night together came rushing back in a wave of serious sexual tension, but then I remembered that he had given me chlamydia—or at least, I thought he had—and the anger came back. The wink he tossed me as I left the bar the other day made my heart skip a beat like I was a schoolgirl.

  This man seriously fucks up my rationale. My brain just shuts down, and my body takes over.

  Ryan: So, how about that dinner?

  A giggle bubbles from my chest. Stop enjoying this so much, Danielle.

  I can’t help myself though. His attention is nice, and I like it. It reminds me that there’s still so much out there, and it’s mine for the taking if I want it.

  Me: I’ll let you know.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Danielle

  My parents stand at the front door, waiting for Amelia and me as we exit the Uber.

  “I really wish you girls would consider getting a car,” my mom starts in as soon as we reach the stairs of the front porch of our childhood home.

  “We don’t need a car in the city, Mom,” I say for the millionth time as she pulls me into a hug.

  She grabs Amelia next. “But if you had one, you wouldn’t have to rely on strange people driving you places. You know I worry about you girls. There’re horror stories about these ride companies every day.”