UnLucky in Love_Final

by Hart, Cary

  “Screaming orgasm or blowjob?” Niki’s voice brings me back to the present.

  “Excuse me?” I look over and see Niki and Gavin up at the bar.

  “Drinks, babe, whatcha want?” She tilts her head to the side, examining me. “You know what? I’ll pick,” she says, turning to the bartender. “Give us three shots of tequila, two cosmos and one margarita on the rocks for this pussy.” She points over to Gavin.

  “Hey, I’d like to say, for the record, they are made with tequila and damn if those don’t taste good.” He laughs, pulling Niki in close again.

  The way his laugh rumbles through the room, she has to feel every muscle ripple, every vibration. Hmmm. Have I just been too wrapped up in self-pity that I didn’t see this happening? I’ll have to give her the third degree about it later.

  Placing our drinks on a tray, Niki grabs it and carries it with grace, weaving through the growing crowd to find our spot reserved in the VIP section that overlooks the other levels.

  Thanks to Gavin who manages the bar, and Niki who works here during the summer and fills in some school-year weekends, we had no trouble securing a corner section.

  Spotlight is pretty amazing, really. Located in the heart of Jonestown, an up-and-coming city on the outskirts of Chicago, it’s a modern chic take on your local everyday bar. From the outside, you can see two levels. The entrance is aged brick that was obviously here when the structure was first built nearly a century ago, but the second level is all smoky glass with cool steel beams securing the roof. Once you walk in, it’s so much more than it looks from the outside. Three levels, decorated with a combination of dark woods and stained glass. Sleek metal lines the walls and the floors are a polished concrete. Strobing neon lights pulse around the room, reflecting off of the various mediums, bringing the bar alive, lending a club vibe to the classic old world establishment.

  Level one, which is really level two, is the ground level, where the main bar and dining are located. The wood and metal theme carries throughout the entire place, and the dining room’s worn leather seats offer a sort of old-world charm, while the etched glass tabletops keep it modern. Everyone who is anyone has dined here. The food is your typical bar food but with a high-class flair.

  Level three is the VIP section. No one is allowed up unless you have a barcode bracelet on. This is scanned every time you enter or leave and is connected to your tab. It’s nothing to see the Hollywood Elite in here, taking a break from the silver screen or busy performance schedule. The security in here is outstanding. Even though the floor is made up of glass, it’s frosted, keeping the clientele and their woo-ha’s hidden from the general public. Nothing but shadows and lights are seen from below. TVs displaying the dance floor and stage line the area. Wide steel beams rise from the level below, caging in reclaimed wood slats for stairs. More frosted glass lines the side and acts as railing.

  The basement level is where another bar, stage and dance floor are located. The rustic brick walls are adorned with vintage concert flyers and various mirrors, reflecting more light. The long, aged wooden bar is suspended from metal cables and is surrounded by leather barstools. Bands play after dinner hours and end around 10 when a local DJ comes in and works the dance floor.

  Spotlight got its name partially from spotlighting bands from all over the world, new albums or breakout stars who are getting hype on Twitter. The name also comes from the famous flocking here when they need a break from playing the huge venues.

  There are spotlights located on the VIP level. Swipe your card and you can beam a spotlight on someone working it on the dance floor.

  “Here we go.” Niki sets the tray down, distributing our drinks and shoving a double shot my way.

  “Yeah, not happening. Switch me.” I gently scoot it toward her, avoiding spilling any on the table. The one thing I hate more than anything when I go to a bar is a sticky table or floor. Nasty.

  “Skank, pull up your big girl panties.” She smirks. “Oh that’s right you aren’t wearing any.”

  “NIKI!”

  “That’s hot!” Gavin shoots me a look while he leans back, pulling Niki with him.

  “What? It’s true.” She settles into his side, crossing her legs.

  “Only because you hid all my panties from me stating they were too parachute-ish.” I down the shot not, waiting for those assholes.

  “Well, look what you gone and did. It’s bad luck to do a shot without friends.” She reaches over to a kiosk and orders another shot.

  “Says who?” I give her the evil eye, trying not to make a face from the slight burn of the tequila.

  “Says me! Now wait this time or we will be at this all night,” she demands as the waitress comes up and hands me a glass matching theirs.

  “Fine. What should we drink to?”

  “To new beginnings!”

  We raise our glasses, clinking them together.

  “To new beginnings!” Gavin and I repeat.

  “And to no panties!” Gavin sneaks in.

  “Lick.”

  Lick. Salt. Lick.

  “Drink.”

  Down. Burn.

  “Suck.”

  Done.

  “Bam!” I slam the glass down. “To new beginnings, bitches!” I shout, only to see Niki sucking a lemon from Gavin’s mouth. They are one second from going too far, but she pulls away.

  “That’s right girl. Now, let’s go dance!” She gets up, pulling me with her.

  “You promised me food.” I plop myself back down in the navy velvet chair and grab hold of the arms, bracing for the fight.

  “Fine.” Sighing, she looks toward Gavin. “Order us a variety of the appetizers and get this crybaby a burger.” She nudges my leg.

  “Now, come with me. I want to introduce you to Grady James, actor and model who is traveling the promotional circuit with his wife, Heather Young, who co-stars with Ronan Connolly in the big indie film, A Thousand Words which has just been released to the big screen. Rumor has it he is a gem, but Heather a major cunt. Just don’t make eye contact with her and all will be good.” She winks.

  I’m not surprised she suggests this. Niki makes an impression on everyone. Athletes, politicians, actors, musicians, priests, mothers, grandmothers, everyone loves her. It’s hard not to fall in love with her personality. Some may think this is part of her job to attract bigger tips, but it’s just her. One minute sophisticated and classy and the next minute sassy and down-to-earth. Gotta love her.

  Umpteen drinks later, I’m feeling good. I didn’t plan on drinking this much, but when Grady James offers to buy you drinks, you don’t say no.

  We had Vegas Bombs, Jager Bombs, Irish Car Bombs. If it had the word bomb in it, we had it. Which is probably why I’m drunk and energized.

  Stupid Red Bull.

  Not sure how I made my way out here, but the dance floor is packed. Tonight’s band, Broken Euphoria drew in one hell of a crowd and DJ Wicked is playing all my favorite songs.

  A song ends and another begins. The bass is steady and repetitive, working up the crowd. I would know this song anywhere, it’s Reece’s favorite. She’s too young to know what it means, but recites all the words.

  “Come on, come on, turn the radio on...” The song starts and I can’t help but throw my hands in the air and move with the music. The words ring true. Losing myself, I let go and just dance.

  Next thing I know, a spotlight is directly on us. I turn to Niki to smile, but she is nowhere in sight. Panicking, I spin on my heel, looking for her and finally see her glowing green eyes from the corner of room where she’s dancing with some suit and tie.

  Realizing it was probably Grady or Gavin running the spotlight I decide to give them a show.

  Bringing my hands down, I bend my knees and sway my hips to the deep bass of the beat. Slowly creeping my hands up I let them drag the hem of my dress up a little. Reaching my hips, I raise one hand in the air while my other feels every crevice of my body, putting on a seductive show for all to see.r />
  The light’s a little too bright so I close my eyes and lose myself in the moment.

  Drew

  Spotlight. Not exactly my kind of hangout, but Kyle Lewis, my lead foreman at WilliamSon Construction, insisted I come out for a drink after the shit day we both had. Kyle had the client from hell and I signed my divorce papers.

  Not exactly how I planned for the night to go. And I sure as hell didn’t plan for my life to end up like this. Ignoring the vibration coming from my back pocket, I slap my credit card down and wave the bartender over.

  “Hey sweetheart, I’m Cindy and I’ll be your bartender for the evening.” Cindy leans against the counter giving us her full attention.

  “Start a tab. Not sure how long we will be —”

  “We will be here all night,” Kyle cuts in, making plans I’m not sure I want to keep.

  “Fine. Give us two Coors Lights, bottles please, and keep them coming.”

  “And two of those burgers you guys are famous for,” Kyle orders, making sure he doesn’t miss out on the free meal I promised him earlier in the week.

  “Got it. Two inside-out burgers, chips and keep the coldest Coors Light bottles coming.” Cindy turns and with ease pops the caps and slings the beers down the bar with perfection.

  Dinner was pretty damn good. Kyle was right about this place. It has a little bit of everything for everyone. Dinner and drinks, a small in-house concert and now the dance floor is bumpin’, with people on full display.

  Several beers later, Kyle nudges my shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “What do you think? Just what you needed. Am I right or am I right?”

  “I don’t know about needed, but yeah.” I grab a bottleneck and start to peel off the label. “It’s different.”

  “Different good or different as in you’d rather be at home drowning your sorrows over your whore of an ex in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s chunky monkey like a little pussy?”

  “Fuck you, Lewis.”

  “Back at you, Williams. Shot?”

  “Make that two.” I signal for Cindy, hoping this will do the trick and drown out the week from hell.

  Cindy comes up to the counter and lifts herself up on the bar ledge to get closer. “Two more Coors?”

  “Two shots of Patrón and we need to close out the tab.”

  “Going home so soon? I thought we were just about to make friends.” She hops down and shoots me a wink.

  Kyle, feeling a little too good, swings his arm with beer in hand around my shoulder, pointing with his index finger. “This guy here is a straight-up pussy.”

  “Is that right?” Cindy hands us each a shot. “How about we toast to pussy? You are one.” She tilts her glass toward me. “He isn’t getting one and I have one.”

  “Oh snap!” Kyle covers his mouth and smacks me on the back. “You my friend are getting laid. TO PUSSY!” he shouts.

  “She can hear you.”

  Not responding he just clinks his glass with mine and throws it back. I follow suit and the burn feels good.

  “Hey, Andrew?” Cindy’s voice is normal but in this environment it’s barely a whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “We aren’t supposed to do this, but...” She slips me a napkin. “If you ever feel like talking or just getting together to hang out, give me a call.”

  Looking down I see her name and number scribbled down in red ink with a heart dotting the I. Totally childish and cute at the same time.

  Uncertain what to do I accept the napkin and stuff it in my front pocket. Cindy watches carefully with a nervous smile on her face. I know I shouldn’t take it, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. Especially after everything that has happened.

  “Cindy, thanks for the service. I’ll talk to you soon,” I say, patting my pocket and turning to leave.

  “Drew, where you going, man?”

  “Home. This just isn’t my thing anymore.”

  “Man, you don’t even know what your thing is anymore. Just one more drink, plus you haven’t experienced the Spotlight effect.”

  He’s right. My normal routine, my thing, no longer exists. It ended the moment I walked in on my wife fucking her boss. I should have known something was up; all the signs were there, but I was so consumed with everyday life I didn’t notice. Her demand to go back to work, working late, the sudden overnight business trips. All right there in my face.

  Stupidity.

  Now, my thing is every other weekend and a couple nights during the week with Andie, my almost-6-year-old daughter, who is the spitting image of her mother — except for the color of her dark hair and bright eyes. Those are all mine.

  “You know what? One more beer and then we will call it a night.”

  “Deal.” Kyle heads away from the bar and I follow.

  “So—what’s this spotlight thing?” I scan the bar and that’s when I see it. A beam so hot and intense beating down at the crowd, someone famous must be down there. Maybe an impromptu concert? Leaning over the rail, my eyes focus in on the entertainment. Except it’s not a band or someone on stage.

  “See that spotlight? It comes from the VIP section.”

  “Who’s that?” I interrupt, and irritation masks his face.

  Leaning over the rail he takes a closer look. “I dunno, but she’s been in here before talking to some hot-ass bartender chick, but she wasn’t wearing this and she definitely wasn’t doing that.” Kyle nods to the dance floor.

  Not being able to help myself, I hand Kyle my beer and take the steps two at a time until I hit the dance floor. Pushing past sweaty body after sweaty body I make my way to my target.

  God she’s beautiful.

  I’m not one to dance. I can, I just don’t. Standing back, I watch her for a moment. Her pale skin a perfect canvas for the light show, her hair loose and carelessly flying around.

  I have to feel her.

  Making my way up to her, I grab her by the waist. She’s momentarily startled her but when her head turns her eyes are wide with lust. She feels it. The night, the alcohol...it’s kicking in.

  Pulling her in tight, I push myself up against her, catching her rhythm, instantly hard. I lean my head down and breathe into her ear. “Feel what you do to me.”

  Nothing. She doesn’t speak, she just smiles, reaching her hands up and pulling my neck down.

  Kiss her.

  Her red lips part, waiting, inviting, but I can’t. I can’t do this to her. To me.

  The song ends, the spotlight goes off and I sneak away during the applause.

  CHAPTER THREE - AUBREY

  TODAY IS A GOOD day. At least that is what I’m trying to convince myself of. It’s hard, waking up another morning without Reece here. Adjusting to not being married is the easy part; I have always been pretty independent, but not being a family has proved to be quite difficult. The thought of losing my family and not seeing Reece daily is what kept me around.

  Divorce, I didn’t take it lightly. I fought it for a few years. I tried to work it out. Go to counseling, change who I was and how I reacted. Hell, I stayed for fear that it was me and not him, but in the end I realized it wasn’t just me or him, it was us. We just couldn’t be.

  His parents, Edward and Connie, contributed to the problem telling us on every occasion we were together they thought we never should have gotten married. Of course, they hated me. They worshipped Doug’s high school sweetheart, JoJo, and no one could touch what they had. They thought I was the reason they broke up and Doug let them believe that. It was easier than letting them down.

  We fell fast and hard. Nothing could stop us. Getting pregnant wasn’t in the plans, contrary to what Connie believes. I’m not even sure how that happened. I was cautious.

  Doug was a tad freaked when I broke the news, but took the situation and made it positive. With me he was just Doug. Around his parents he turned into Dougy “The Douche.”

  Doug didn’t even tell them we were dating until I was pregnant.

  Coward!

  “M
ommy!” Reece comes barreling through the door and runs straight to me.

  Catching her mid jump, I lift her up and bring her in for a huge bear hug. “I missed you baby girl. What are you doing home so soon? I thought Daddy—”

  “That’s still the plan, Aubrey.” Doug’s voice cuts through the air, bringing an edge of tension to the room. I see him pulling Putter, Reece’s dog, through the door.

  Doug and Connie thought it would be a fabulous idea if we got Reece a dog. You know, to help her adjust to the situation I put her in.

  Reluctantly agreeing, I took her to a local shelter where we found The One. We think he is part Labrador, part dachshund and part who knows what. I just knew we had to get that dog. Reece fell hard for him while we were there and honestly, I thought he was a perfect dog. He was calm and just putted around the building, earning his name Putter.

  I can’t help but smile on the inside. Doug is trying to get Putter in, pulling him as hard as he can by the leash, but the dog is set on staying outside. Digging in, he secures himself in place, ready for the battle.

  “Daddy is going to take me swimming today at GiGi’s! He wanted to buy me a swimsuit, but I like mine.” Her tiny frame wiggles down my body toward her new bedroom.

  “You need to have a talk with her. We can’t keep coming back every time she forgets something.”

  Irritated, I want to spout off, tell him exactly how I feel about the whole situation, but where will that get me? Just in another pointless argument.

  Picking up the bottle of water I was drinking, I down the last of it and toss it in the recycling bin. “I’ll talk to her. She is still having a hard time understanding what all this means.”

  “Good, I’ll talk to Mom. Maybe she can take her shopping before you get her Sunday?”