by Mistake: (Poison & Wine, book 1)

by Sigal Ehrlich

  PS. What’s up with the motivational quote sign off, Anna?

  An involuntary laugh leaves my lips. So many things to address in this message. First, who thanks random people these days? Bonus point to Mr. Liam. Then, if there’s something I find special about guys, and by special I mean scorching hot, it’s got to be guys who read. A guy with a book? Visual/mental foreplay. This Liam guy signed off his email with a J. R. R. Tolkien quote, nonetheless! Okay, the little jab about my quote wasn’t cool, but his responding quote was sort of funny. And he quoted Tolkien! Not to mention—

  “Miss Nielsen?”

  “Oh, hi, hello, hi,” I throw the phone into my bag and stand up with a start, all while extending my hand for a shake. “You must be Ms. Blake, nice to meet you.” I fumble a little with the folder that almost falls from my hand and my bag’s strap is slowly sliding down my arm. I try to hoist it up through the whole handshake thing. I must look lightyears away from the serious businesswoman I opted for.

  Luckily, by the time we reach Ms. Blake’s office, I manage to get a grip and actually pull off a more collected and purposeful version of myself. I answer all the questions Ms. Blake has for me and present her with all the documents she requests. As we review the business plan, I answer a few more questions, and it’s the longest hour of my life.

  When I leave the office and close the door behind me, it’s the first time since I came in that I feel like I can finally relax.

  Done.

  Nothing more to do but wait. Wait up to two months as I was told. When I asked if there’s any possibility to expedite the process and got a firm headshake, I decided to refrain from pushing any further. It’s a fifty-fifty chance as I see it. All I have left is to hope that by some miracle or because of my solid business plan, I get approved for the loan.

  I twist my neck from side to side and roll back my shoulders. What I need right now is some distraction or a healthy glass of chilled Rosé . . . or both. I shoot out a message to the girls.

  Anna to CHICKENS: Drinks in an hour?

  Victoria to CHICKENS: Always. Where?

  Kayla to CHICKENS: I’m in if we do it at Poison. We have a gig later tonight.

  Pandora to CHICKENS: Poison and Wine it is then. I’ll be a few minutes late. Drummergirl, can’t wait to see you guys perform.

  It’s Never Really “Casual”

  “Whatever’s on draft,” Billy says to the cute, freckled waitress at Poison and Wine.

  “Make that two,” Freddie adds. He gives me a wicked smirk. “And soda water for Saint Liam, over here.”

  The waitress sends me a quick smile that comes in tandem to her cheeks tinting pink.

  I throw my bulky scuba watch a glance. Two hours till my next shift. Alcohol isn’t getting anywhere near my lips. In every job you can leave a margin for fuck-ups, but not in mine.

  “So, any chance you can take the time off?” Billy asks, referring to a west coast road trip the two of them are planning for a few months from now. What I wouldn’t do to join. This one’s up high on my bucket list, together with an MSF assignment. Albeit though, free time is not something I have. Nor will I have for the next few good years. It’s like they say, comes with the territory. What with my soul practically owned by the emergency department at Virginia Mason.

  “After I got the time off for the MSF mission approved, I don’t even dare take an hour off, not to mention two weeks.” Our chief resident would cut my nuts off if I even dreamt of such a request. And Billy should know, he went through the same trajectory a few years back. Now he works in the private sector. A clinic he opened with a few colleagues, where he insists I’ll have a place when and if I decide to come on board.

  “How is it going? The MSF thing?” Freddie asks.

  “Can’t wait to get rid of me, ah Fred?” I say to Freddie, aka my roommate.

  He snorts humoredly. “Dude, I hardly remember how you look as it is.”

  He might be exaggerating a little, but Freddie essentially has the apartment to himself eighty percent of the time. Something that I plan on changing soon. It’s time I got my own place. Not to mention, most of the time I’m home he’s either deep in Slumberland or out at work. But even though we’re sharing a two-bedroom apartment, he’s been more than fair to split the rent forty-sixty. Freddie and I go way back. Billy once joked that we’ll soon be celebrating our Tin Anniversary.

  “If the bureaucratic part goes smoothly and my credentials meet their criteria—”

  “They do, and you know that,” Billy states.

  I nod at him and go on. “I believe I’ll probably be called in for the personal meeting within the next couple of months.” Glancing up, I’m rewarded with yet another sweet smile as our waitress places our drinks and a bowl of peanuts on the round, high table. I reciprocate with a grin and a nod.

  Billy takes a swig of his drink. “She’s cute.” Comes as an afterthought. Both Freddie and I nod in agreement.

  Freddie tilts his entire body sideways as he follows her departing back with a gaze. “Nice ass.” It’s Billy and me who nod in agreement this time.

  “Down boy,” Billy says to Freddie. “She just gave our boy Liam a googly look.”

  Freddie pushes my shoulder for the sake of attention. “Get her number, dumbass.”

  I shake my head. “Can’t you see commitment splattered all over her face?”

  “This shit again?” Billy twists his mouth before shoving a peanut in. “Not everyone’s Cheryl.”

  I send him a death threat glare for bringing up Cheryl and he quickly backs down.

  “As good of a catch as you might be, Dr. Brody,” Billy says lightly. “Not every chick out there is ready to bear your offspring after a couple of dates.” He trades a headshake with my other friend before annunciating, “Cas-u-al,” like I’m too slow to understand.

  The other idiot makes a whole show of tugging on a loose thread in his shirt while shaking his head. “No strings attached.”

  I chuckle. Such idiots. “Said it before, and I’ll say it again, no such thing exists. Someone always ends up wanting more.” I train my gaze on one set of eyeballs, move on to the next, and ask, “When was the last time a casual thing stayed —” I air quote “Casual.” I nod in assertation when both remain with their mouths shut.

  “Speaking of—” Billy says, his eyes trained behind me. He air quotes, “Casual.”

  I give a backward glance and whisper to my friends. “I told her we’ll meet here.”

  Both pat me on my back with more force than necessary, their toothy, “Good luck,” sounds synchronized. I stand up and salute them both with my middle finger, which only makes their assholes grins shine brighter.

  I smile at Jenny who walks my way with a timid smile. My eyes run over her. Jenny is beautiful and smart which attracted me to her in the first place. Jenny also was the first to declare something in the vein of a casual thing when we met. She went on about how her studies left her little time to socialize. Needless to say, I was a hundred percent on board. We saw each other on and off for the last few months. It was mainly physical, but with a dash of casual socializing. We grabbed dinner a few times, watched a movie at my place after a round in bed. Until she texted the dreaded four words: We. Need. To. Talk.

  I might come across like an asshole, but I swear I’m not. I don’t hop from bed to bed. I always treat my partners with utter respect both in and out of bed. And I always make sure they understand that I’m not in the market for anything serious.

  They all nod and agree.

  Until they don’t.

  Case in point, Jenny.

  Just before pressing a kiss to my lips, Jenny threads her fingers with mine. See what I mean? Not a so-called casual bone in the intimate gesture.

  “What are you drinking?” I ask, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. Looks like what I’m about to deliver will be taken much less positively than I thought it would.

  On the way back from the bar with another soda water for me and a gla
ss of white for Jenny, my eyes get caught on a collarbone. It’s delicate, calling for me from under milky, smooth skin. Something is happening to me. I can’t decide if it’s out of excitement or lust, or both. My eyes slowly rise to land on the face. She’s sitting in a booth; I can only see her profile which is simply put, stunning. My mind knows how to complete the face, given I’ve gazed at it before, mesmerized just a week ago when I saw her for the first time. She’s the very essence of beauty in my mind’s eye. Full lips, huge almond-shaped blue eyes, long, layered blond hair.

  Those eyes though, more like weapons of mass seduction.

  She laughs at something one of her friends said. An involuntary smile curves my lips to the sound of her laughter. Just like the time before, she doesn’t notice me. Hell, she doesn’t give anything, or anyone her attention but the group of friends surrounding her. She’s here to have a good time with her friends, period. She’s not looking for anything, that’s for sure. This leaves me with the thought that she’s either in a relationship or really into her friends. Strangely enough, deep inside I’m hoping for the latter. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and I can’t pull my eyes away from the skin just below her chin, the spot dotted with the sexiest beauty mark.

  “Sorry,” I say to the person I accidentally bump into, finally tearing my eyes away from the beauty at the booth. I balance, almost spilling the drinks in my hand.

  The drinks? Shit, Jenny!

  Jenny’s eyes that just a few moments ago shone with excitement as I returned with the drinks, round with something in the vein of disappointment when I tell her that my schedule for the next couple of months leaves me with hardly any time and that we better end our thing.

  “I don’t mind, we can still go out sometimes,” she tries to plaster on an easygoing smile.

  See what I mean? The lyrics to her carol changed so much from the first time we met, which seems like history now, even though it was a couple of months back. The “let’s keep it casual” talk. Back then it was more about hooking up. Now it’s about going out.

  I scratch the side of my neck in discomfort, truly hating doing this. I cover her hand with mine, “Listen, Jenny, I think we’re looking for different things. Even if I wanted, I can’t fit in a relationship right now. You’re great, maybe under other circumstances, we’d make a great couple.”

  “Liam, why don’t we continue just—”

  I shake my head, giving her an apologetic smile. “I have a feeling I’ll kick myself for this somewhere in the future,” I say. “But for both our sakes, I think we should end whatever we have going on. It’s unfair to you. You have so much to offer.”

  Seeming to understand that my mind is made up, Jenny squeezes my hand. “When you’re about to kick yourself somewhere in the future,” she gives me back my words. “Do me a favor, Liam, and call me first.”

  I drop my head with a grin and nod to my cup. I lift my eyes back to Jenny and send her a small apologetic smile. She rises to stand, leans closely to press a soft kiss on my lips, and walks away.

  Yeah, it’s never really “casual.”

  Liquor, Music, and Boys. It Always Ends with Boys

  “Do you think they even have wine in this place? I mean, one that doesn’t come out of a carton,” Victoria says, wrinkling her nose. She gives the drinking establishment a cursory glance.

  Kayla who just joined us, all glorified rocker in distressed jeans, a tight vest, and smoky eyes, gives my older sister a look that reads, “Hey princess, get that stick outta your tush, will ya?” Alas in a non-intimidating sort of way. “They have everything, things you didn’t know you needed. Jim, the barman, is a mastermind when it comes to cocktails.” She brushes her long red bangs behind her ear and places her drumsticks on the table.

  Confession time. I might have a bit of a non-sexual girl-crush on Kayla. Hands down, she’s the coolest chick I’ve ever met. We actually met her here at Poison – what we call the locally owned bar fully named Poison and Wine, where her band plays regularly. Panda and I stumbled upon this place about a month ago. That night Kayla’s band played, and we became insta-fans. After the show, since we’re great believers in women empowerment, we decided to tell Kayla just how impressed we were with them, especially her. She joined us for a drink that turned into three and somehow before closing time she became a new member of our group. Our circle is small. We’re into quality over quantity. We had no doubt Victoria would approve even though she’s very picky with the people she lets in. It was an immediate thumbs up from my sister. And that was that.

  Victoria grins at Kayla. “Okay then, surprise me with something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

  “Oh darling, just so we’re clear, I’m not your date. You have the hot Viking chick thing going on but XY is my sex of preference.” That earns Kayla a peanut in the vicinity of her forehead and an even more radiant grin from my sister.

  We start with cocktails while Kayla sticks to water given she’s performing in an hour.

  “So Panda, how’s it going with, what’s his face, computer person?” Victoria asks, licking her lips after yet another generous sip of the cocktail Kayla ordered her…

  I feel like deep inside Kayla is beyond sweet. The tough rock image is an exterior, maybe some sort of armor for a big, gentle heart.

  “Going well, I guess.” Pandora nods. “We went on a third date yesterday; feels like it’s going in the right direction. I definitely want to explore further.” Another pause. “He’s a nice guy.”

  I swipe my hair behind my ear with a weird vibe of being watched, which I disregard. Don’t care. Girls’ night out means I’m with the girls. They’re all I care about tonight. “Is it just me or are you not uber thrilled?”

  “Well, there are no butterflies, you know.” She shrugs. “He’s nice.” Then she adds. “Yeah, he’s really. . . he’s a nice guy.”

  “Nice,” I repeat with a frown. “Yeah, you’re very convincing with the weary repetitions.” I eye my friend. “Don’t you feel like you’re compromising in a way? Is nice really enough?”

  Vic throws me a wicked, provoking sibling glance. “What are you now, Carrie Bradshaw? Will this end up in your column after a few more Cosmos?”

  In an impressive mature act, I stick my tongue out at my sister. She scoffs in amusement.

  Pandora, still seeming to contemplate my question, finally says, “Not really.” She shrugs again. “I don’t know.”

  I rest both elbows on the table, leaning my chin on my hands, my eyes running over Pandora’s beautiful dark eyes and mischievous freckles. “I don’t know about all this swiping left or right dating stuff.” My brows pinch as I look at each of my friends. “When did it ever even become a thing?” I pause. “See, I for one am not interested in that. I think I’m a bit more . . . old school. I want the natural thing to happen. Someone to notice me as I – don’t know, have a drink with my friends? Stand in line at Starbucks? And get curious. Be pulled. Someone who will be intrigued by me, not my profile competing among a trillion others. A little bit of magic, you know.” I puff my cheeks and let out a lingered exhale. “I want to get to know someone slowly, not to have a whole file on them before we even meet. I want the thrill. The slow burn.”

  “I know what you mean, but then . . . modern times reality,” Kayla says. “What kind of guy are you looking for? I see you with a . . . Ooh, I know, a popular makeup influencer!” She grins teasingly.

  I laugh in dismissal. “I’m not really actively looking, but if I were, umm, I’d say a guy who cares about stuff, environment, someone who drinks from a reusable cup,” I muse. “Someone who reads—likes to read, and in general cares about others.”

  “Meaning?” It’s Pandora this time.

  “You know, someone who’s not on some crusade to inflate his ego work-wise, through a relationship, etc. Someone who does things as a passion, not as a goal. Color me naïve, but all I want is a decent human.”

  “Preach, sister,” Pandora chirps.

  “
Someone who looks at others through a prism of kindness. I guess—in the grand scheme of things—someone who gives a shit,” I say, shrugging.

  My sister spreads her arms. “Someone who gives a shit. How poetic!” she declares. Vic shakes her head at me with a consolation smile. “Oh, hon.” She pats my hand. “Didn’t you hear that rare species was extinct back when sending your object of affection genitalia pics became a thing?”

  “Glad to know romance is still dead,” I murmur then shrug again and tie my blond strands in a bun. “Who has time to date, anyway. Definitely not me. Too much going on in my life to include someone new.”

  Kayla takes a swing from her water bottle. “Well, I found that guy. One of the good ones, but he never really saw me, not in that sense, I mean.”

  I watch Kayla somewhat startled. I feel like it’s the first time I get to see her walls come down a little. When I open my mouth to address her comment, she winks at me and shakes her head, communicating, nuh-uh, no need to get all excited, we’re not delving into that. She grabs her drumsticks. “We’re up next, catch you guys later.” And she’s gone, en route to join her band members on the little stage.

  “Good luck and Godspeed,” Pandora waves a hand at Kayla’s departing back.

  A few hours later and a couple of drinks too many in my system, with my face cleansed and moisturized, a cropped sweatshirt and pajama shorts, I climb into bed and drop my head on the pillow. I already know just how much I’ll regret the extra drinks tomorrow morning when I have to be all energetic and swaying for my 80’s throwback aerobics class.

  As I send my hand to switch the light off, a certain correspondence from earlier resurfaces in my mind. I grab my phone from the nightstand and reread what I wrote.

  Hi Liam,

  Nice to meet you, too.

  Thanks for promptly rectifying your email etiquettes lapse. 2 points for good behavior! Thinking about it, quoting J. R. R. Tolkien might have absolved you from that little misdemeanor and any future email transgressions for that matter.