Blue

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  “You didn’t mention you don’t work there anymore when we were talking last night,” Lucy replied. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.” I knew if I didn’t rein it in, the alcohol would start talking on my behalf. And drunk Blue didn’t know when to shut up. Remaining vague was key. Play it cool. “It didn’t pan out. There were conflicts of interest with my boss.”

  “Who is he?” she asked. “One of those two?”

  “Both. My direct was the one on the left.” I nodded toward the screen as Santi slid another drink in front of me along with a grease-soaked sandwich and a large pile of overcooked French fries. The glass he’d presented me was far bigger than a shot glass. It was a snifter. “Cash Montgomery Jensen.”

  “That hottie was your boss? Aww, honey. I’d let him nip and tuck me anytime,” Lucy moaned a sigh of approval. “Are you two on good terms? Maybe you can slip him my digits?”

  “Have at it. He’s nothing to write home about in the romance department. Believe me,” I said under my breath, my speech starting to slur. I was too drunk to realize I’d taken it one step too far. “Damn. Where’s Santi? I need another orgamasm…orgasmasm…another drink.” Why is that one word so difficult to say?

  “Sweetie, Santi already brought you one.” Lucy slid the massive glass toward me a few inches. “Did you say you dated that guy?” She pointed to the screen. “Spill! Details!”

  “He was my boss, Lucy. It’s complicated.” I closed one eye deep in thought before downing more of the drink than I should have. “Was complicated? That company wasn’t good for me anymore.”

  Lucy flapped her hands frantically like a bird who was about to be fed a big, juicy worm. “Oh! Hold! Up! Is he the one who you know…made you all uptight in the pants and shit?”

  “Sleep your way to the top often?” Adam offered his first tidbit toward the conversation, taking a slow drink from his beer. “Seems admirable.”

  “I don’t know. Are you,” I pointed at him and garbled, “always this ass of a much-hole? This much of an asshole?”

  “Maybe I am. Guess you wouldn’t know since you don’t live in town,” he replied, kicking his feet up on top of the table, crossing them at the ankles.

  I carefully spoke. “Well, I’m surprised they even let you in here after you destroyed that window last night. Isn’t that considered destruction of property? You could really, really, really use some anger management classes.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I settled up with the owner this morning. We work together. And none of that is interesting to anyone at the table, unlike you sleeping with pretty boy up there on the screen.”

  I rubbed my face, tired of being under the spotlight. “Okay! Enough about my dating life.”

  Lucy looked disappointed. “But—”

  I cut her off, the snifter halfway to my mouth. “I said enough.”

  Everyone at the table fell silent.

  “Anyone else want to open up about their baggage? Beanbag? Daveigh? Got anything you want to confess?” My sentences were a giant smear. With the way they’d acted in public, it was safe to say their relationship was still a secret.

  Both of them were quiet as they looked away.

  “Lucy? Zack? Wanna talk about the last time you two had sex together? Lucy, you had some pretty specific opinions about the experience. Care to share?”

  “I…I,” Lucy stuttered.

  “You do, Luc?” Zack asked before his attention turned back toward me. “I mean, what’s going on, Blue? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “More than fine, actually. Why’s everyone got a problem with me being shithammered? Hammerfaced? Whatever.” I turned my attention toward Adam and tried to stop the world from swaying. “Why don’t you tell us about your girlfriend? I mean, an angsty, brooding guy like you has to be a big catch around here.” I balled my fists, my expression cold.

  It was a low blow I’d likely regret later, and alcohol remained my liquid courage. But I was desperate to spin the tables and take the focus off myself. Adam happened to be next in the line of fire. Remembering that Lucy said his past was pained, made taking the dig a little easier. Hell, it made it a lot easier.

  “I’m not seeing anyone, and I doubt anyone wants to hear about my exes.” Adam sat up and placed his feet back on the floor. “My love life’s a snore-fest.”

  “Oh, come on. I’ll bet there are great stories in there somewhere,” I egged him on.

  As if it were perfectly choreographed, the music lulled, and I swear, he growled at me.

  “All right. Since you’re so eager to know.” He drank the rest of his beer without stopping, his stare menacing. “My last relationship? I fell for my best friend.”

  I gestured with my hand. “This ought to be good. Go on.”

  “It was the usual garbage. Fell in love. Planned a future together.” He paused, looking as if he were lost in a memory. Suddenly, his tone changed, softening briefly. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, his angry mask threatening to falter. “God, I worshipped her.”

  “So, what happened? There has to be more to it than that.” Lucy was on the edge of her seat, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce, like a cat stalking prey.

  Wait. Why did I care? That’s right. I didn’t because Zack’s hand had snaked its way to my stomach.

  Adam composed himself. “Summed up? Don’t get involved with someone you know. Never works out.” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “Like I already told you guys, there’s nothing to tell. Rest in peace,” he said as he toasted the ceiling with his newly-refilled glass of beer.

  “Oh, shit! She died?” Lucy exclaimed and scooted closer to Adam, rubbing his arm. “You poor, poor baby. That had to be so awful. If there’s anything I can do…anything—”

  “I didn’t say ‘she’ died,” Adam scooted a few inches away from her, “but the ‘we’ died, which is the same if you ask me.”

  “How fucking poetic.” I rolled my eyes. “Relationships are simple. Black and white. If you ask me, they’re about knowing when to hold on and when to let go.”

  “Well, no one asked you, boozehound.” Adam eyed my glass.

  “Who broke it off?” Lucy asked. “Was it amicable? Do you two still talk?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I moved on,” he said.

  Lucy sipped her wine. “So, the million-dollar question provoked by Alfred Lord Tennyson is, ‘Tis it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’?”

  “Who knows? You have to learn some lessons the hard way. Real pain comes from clinging to a love that never existed.” He shrugged. “All that’s left are scars, proof that some wounds never heal. Fortunately, they go numb after a while.”

  “I’d be happy to nurse those wounds for you,” Lucy said her lower lip on the verge of pouting. “I’m serious. Whatever I can do—”

  “I’m done chasing ghosts.” He deadpanned her. “Can we talk about something else? Some relationships aren’t worth resurrecting.”

  Part of my heart broke as I realized Adam had one of his own. It may have been shriveled and black, but it was in there. Somewhere. In that moment, I could see it in his eyes. His tough, outer exterior had weakened a little. And in that, he’d became human to me. It was clear he hurt, and part of that was my fault. I’d dealt out some of that pain by revisiting his past.

  Santi set my tab down on the table and I blinked back into reality. It neared two o’clock in the morning. Closing time. I’d lost count of how many Orgasms I’d had, including the mammoth one he’d last brought me. I feared the final price on the bill. Zack’s hand had slid up to my inner thigh from my knee, and I wondered how long it’d been there.

  The sobering moment reminded me of how drunk I’d gotten and the control I’d lost. The most recent Orgasm suddenly thr
eatened to resurface and I dry heaved. Too much alcohol was in my system and not enough food. It was about to get messy. Fast. Glancing at the untouched sandwich with globs of congealed cheese, I was pushed over the edge. My hand clamped over my mouth and I stood up, shoving Zack away.

  The world was fuzzy when I wove my way around the table. I gulped and managed to pull it together long enough to string a few sentences. “‘Veigh, give Santi my debit card to pay. It’s in my wallet.”

  “Sure,” she said. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Just gonna pull a Daveigh and go release a drink or five into The Fill & Spill bathroom. Standard Sunday night.”

  A second round of gagging took hold as my mouth salivated. Next stop, vomit-ville. Population: One. My hands began to sweat, and I wasn’t sure if I’d make it. I raced for the bathroom, shoving my way through a crowd of people deep in conversation, blasting through the door for a second time that night.

  I looked to the left. The first stall was open. Saving grace!

  The same frizzy-haired woman with oversized glasses who’d been washing her hands before was back once again, hands covered in suds. She looked at me in the mirror and slumped her shoulders. “Really? Are we on the same pissing schedule or something?” she muttered.

  “It’s okay,” I rushed by her. “You don’t have to go this time.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  I slammed the stall door behind me, the lock not taking hold as the door flung back open again. But it didn’t matter if I had an audience. There was no time to spare.

  Every Orgasm I’d had that night erupted and my stomach muscles cramped as the exorcism took hold. Four massive rounds of that abdominal workout are what it took for my body to calm down as I braced the sides of the toilet with a deadly grip, saliva trailing from my mouth to the toilet bowl. It was one of my finer moments. Slow deep breaths seemed to be working, keeping a repeat of the performance at bay.

  A few minutes later, I convinced myself to leave the sanctuary of the stall and rinsed my mouth, taking a few moments to press another cool paper towel to the back of my neck. “Never again.” I blew my nose and let out a long sigh with my head inches above the sink.

  For the first time, I noticed the redheaded woman stood in the corner, leaning against a twenty-five-cent tampon machine. “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” I inhaled deeply. “Just a rough night.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” She glanced toward the bathroom stall and frowned. “They should retire that toilet after what you put it through.”

  “Well, everyone needs a talent they excel at.”

  “Can’t drown your man troubles in alcohol forever, you know,” she said as she fished around in her purse. “Here.” She offered me a tin of breath mints. “You look like you could use one of these. In fact, take the whole thing. They’ll help settle your stomach. What were you drinkin’, anyway?”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Orgasms.” The bold flavor of spearmint was far better than regurgitated coffee, amaretto, and Irish cream.

  She laughed heartily. “Don’t you know nothin’ about drinkin’, honey? You never binge on anything that can curdle and—”

  The word “curdle” made my mouth wrench as I thought about the sandwich on the table. “Look, I’ve got a lot of heavy shit going on right now, but I don’t have man troubles.”

  “Uh huh,” she replied. “Right.”

  Stupid stranger. I bit my lip and thought about Zack’s wandering hands, Adam’s snarky attitude, and Cash being too much of a cheese dick to fire me.

  She shook her index finger at me. “No more Orgasms for you tonight. Otherwise, you’re gonna regret it in the mornin’.”

  Considering Zack’s persistent advances, that much was true in more ways than one. “Trust me, not happening. And thanks again for the mints.” I nodded toward the tin.

  “Get yourself some sleep.” She patted me on the shoulder and paused at the exit of the bathroom. “I’d say you’ll feel better after some sleep, but the hangover from what you drank probably won’t be a pretty picture.”

  The door swung shut behind her.

  A few minutes later, when I was confident I wouldn’t encounter her on the way out, I headed back toward the table.

  “You okay?” Daveigh asked. “You’re all pasty and gross-looking. I think you broke some blood vessels on your face too. I could play connect the dots right up here on your cheeks and make—”

  “Stop.” I shooed her hand away and picked up my tote bag. “Better after barfing, but still not one hundred percent. Gonna go home and lie down.”

  “I used the card in your wallet to settle up your tab, and the receipt’s in your purse. Forged your signature. By the way, you’re a good tipper.” Daveigh’s voice competed against the latest song. A country line dance began up on the stage. It was Fill & Spill tradition and how they’d always closed down the bar on Sunday nights.

  “Thanks.” My heart sank at the thought of my dwindling bank account.

  “We’ve got to head out too,” Daveigh said. “I promised Lucy a ride home.”

  I’m not sure what prompted it. Being remorseful. Being drunk. Being a giant asshole by dredging up Adam’s past. Maybe it was a recipe including all of those ingredients. Any way you looked at it, I was trying to be the bigger person by waving the white flag. With a deep breath, I walked around to the other side of the table and reached my hand out toward him.

  “What are you doing?” He looked up at me, a confused look on his face.

  “It’s called a handshake. They’re commonly used in greeting or to finalize an agreement.” I paused. “I thought it could be a fresh start.”

  He stood up slowly and looked me over from head to toe. I could almost feel the unadulterated animosity he’d harbored for me buzzing in the air. It remained a constant, no matter how many glimpses of him I’d snuck throughout the evening. The sole exception was when he’d taken his stroll down memory lane.

  He offered me one word, and he spoke it slowly as he shook his head left and right. “No.”

  I was left to stand there, feeling like an idiot with my hand outstretched, waiting for a handshake that wasn’t going to happen. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, I allowed my hand to drop back down to my side.

  It was only one silly syllable, but it wasn’t what I expected. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted him to say. Acceptance would’ve been ideal. Part of me wanted to be absolved of everything that’d transpired. After how I’d acted, I didn’t deserve it. At least I could say I tried.

  Country music blared in the background as the crowd chanted for one more round of the song, but our table was as silent as a grave. Everyone stared with wide eyes while I wanted to disappear.

  “Dude,” Zack said quietly, “don’t be a dick. She spilled a beer on you. She didn’t kill your puppy. I know you had a shit day at work and all, but let it go. Be nice.” His voice lowered, “I’m interested in this girl.”

  “Yeah, well ‘this girl’ shouldn’t have been so reckless.” Adam shrugged into his jacket and then his attention turned toward me. “It’s been forgotten, but not forgiven. Don’t expect that to change,” he said. And I knew those words, carefully crafted in their specific order, were intended to hurt.

  “Come on. I’ll take you home,” Zack said as we stepped outside and into the misty air.

  Beanbag was already gone. I didn’t blame him a damn bit. Everyone else from our table had scattered like ashes into the wind, and I’d been left with Zack and his wandering hands.

  “I don’t think a ride’s necessary.” I tripped over a crack on the sidewalk, barely catching my balance. “I can walk.”

  “Um. I think it is necessary. Not sure you’d make it the entire way back home by yourself, wobbles. And we don’t need to find one of Steele Falls’ finest pas
sed out in a ditch tomorrow.”

  There was no arguing; he was right. Hesitantly, I followed Zack into the street, my stare lingering on Adam. Zack opened my door and helped me inside before he closed it gingerly. The interior smelled brand new, the leather shiny, and the floor mats pristine. But I barely paid attention to any of it. I was too busy watching Adam’s figure shrinking as the distance between us increased while he headed toward the beach.

  “I feel like I should apologize for him,” Zack said.

  I was a space cadet and didn’t respond.

  “He’s not usually like that,” Zack continued.

  “Huh?” I blinked back to reality. “Who?”

  “Adam. He’s not a tool. Guy’s been through a lot though, and he’s not real big on sharing much of his past. But the little bits I’ve learned? Rough.”

  I clutched my tote bag tightly and watched him disappear over the hill.

  A few minutes later, while listening to Zack ramble on about his latest business acquisitions and his soaring profit margins, he turned onto Poplar and parked alongside the curb. He turned off the headlights and killed the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition before placing them in his pocket. Getting out of the car would take me mere moments—even when blitzed. Shutting down the truck wasn’t necessary and told me he was interested in something more. Red flag number one. Actually, it was closer to red flag number one hundred over the past couple of days.

  Even though I revisited every drink I had that night, I was still drunk. Yet, I was sober enough to know Zack wouldn’t be slithering into my bed. I wasn’t sure whether he knew it or not. He got out of the truck and walked around to my side to open the door for me.

  “So, chilvary…chivillarry… still isn’t dead in Steele Falls?” I asked as I practically fell into his arms. So, maybe I couldn’t walk after all.

  “Chivalry.” He caught me when I slid out of the truck, my knees buckling for a moment.

  I looked up at him as he peered down at me, his right arm snaking around my torso once again. His frame was muscular and warm, his body pinning mine tightly against his. The scenario was already being steered in a direction I didn’t want. Intoxicated me still didn’t fully care. Fortunately, sober me could keep her in check. That bitch knew I needed to escape his embrace and fast.