by Mistake: (Poison & Wine, book 1)

by Sigal Ehrlich

  I fold my legs under me on the sofa and turn to her with full attention. “You mean, the guy who you said didn’t notice you?”

  Kayla sends me a sad little smile. “Oh, he noticed me. Justin, that’s his name. He used to be my best friend when we were kids.”

  I cradle my teacup in both hands, nodding.

  “I had the hugest crush on him – who am I kidding? I’ve been silly in love with him since forever.” She sighs. “But he never saw me as more than a friend, a close one, yet still a friend.” She pauses to take a sip. “He got a job offer in New York a year ago and—” she shrugs. “I don’t know what happened or why, but we didn’t keep in touch.”

  I nod.

  “Well, whenever someone talks about him, I get into this mind spin. Pathetic really. I’m still very much hung up on him.”

  “But you seem so together, confident, and all these guys flocking around you all the time. Didn’t Ricky call you a – what was it, a man eater? I was under the impression that you’re – how should I put it, umm, date a lot.”

  Kayla gives me another smile of the grim variety.

  I go on. “It looked like you’re playing those guys like it’s your job. You know when we first met you, Panda said that she thought you were the epitome of sexy. She even said, and I quote, “She looks like she’s going to lick innocent guys’ blood off her claws by the end of the night.”

  Kayla bursts into boisterous laughter. She shakes her head. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, Anna, but I just feel like I can trust you.” She looks me straight in the eyes, pointer finger pointed at me in a warning. “No judgment, vocal or otherwise.”

  I put my hand over my heart.

  “A bit of a cliché, but looks can be so deceiving,” she says. “You can never really know what goes on inside someone else’s mind.” Her stare drops to her black polished nails. “I’m not that experienced.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Not really.” Then she adds, “It was just a couple of guys.”

  My mouth drops in utter bewilderment. I make sure to shut it right back. No judgment, vocal or otherwise. “How come?” Comes out hurried and surprised.

  She twists her lips. “I mean I’ve fooled around plenty; you know you don’t really have full sex to climax.” She lets out a self-deprecating scoff/laughter. “But somehow beside the two, I’ve never got to the actual thing with others. I don’t know, till Justin left I always wanted it to be with him. I know, pathetic and stupid.”

  I shake my head. “No, it isn’t. I get it. You loved him. You wanted him. Simple. It makes a lot of sense to me. And after he left?”

  Kayla folds her leg on top of the other only to drop it a second later. She fiddles with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I really don’t know. All these random hookups, it just never felt right.”

  I must say that I genuinely get her.

  “So yeah, I heard through our mutual friends that Justin is dating someone now. I think it’s serious, and just the notion makes me want to have a good, full-fledged breakdown.” She laughs it off. “Now listen, not a word, please.”

  “Not even to the girls,” I confirm. “It’s no one’s business.”

  “Mm-kay then, where did you say we were doing this fishing thing?”

  “Catch and release thing. The southwest corner of the lake near the aqua theater.” I check my watch. “We’d better get going. They should be here any minute now.”

  “Panda bear, you have to step back, you nutjob, or I swear I’m confiscating that drink,” Victoria scolds Pandora who’s nearly losing her balance on the edge of the pier.

  Kayla and I can’t restrain our laughter. They look ridiculous. Victoria in her tight pencil skirt, high heels, still in her work attire, walking briskly after a cheerfully singing Pandora who holds a fishing rod in one hand and a wine flute that spills a little more with each unstable step that she takes.

  You see, it started off fairly decent with the four of us sitting on the pier, legs dangling over the deck, each with a fishing rod in hand and a glass of rosé by her side. Then it got a little funnier when Kayla who’s here with us for the first time, chided Vic and Panda each time they asked her to put yet another worm on their respective hooks.

  “I don’t get it. You said that you do this fishing thing once a month and yet you can’t stomach putting a worm on your hook? Explain this to me. How does it work if you can’t even bait your hook?” she asked in feigned bafflement.

  Both beloved morons, the already tipsy one and my sis, smirked and tipped their chins my way. I raised my hand. “Worm Lady at your service. Now help carry the load and stop whining, Drummergirl.”

  Then we (all of us that is, minus Victoria aka our designated driver for tonight) had yet another glass of rosé from the bottle resting with its fellow rosés in the blue cooler and shit started to get real.

  Panda became quite chatty and no less loud, delivering treats we usually discuss in much less public places. The topics ranged from Brazilians to is anal a taboo topic? To does size really matter and whether fish really smell like – you see we had to stop her at a certain point, and by stop I mean covering her chatty, crazy little mouth with my hand that smelled like . . . fish.

  Needless to say, the few guys fishing around us, “minding their own business” were more than intrigued by Panda’s performance.

  “Did she have anything to eat before you guys picked us up,” I ask Victoria who’s listening to Panda, nearly on the floor laughing her heiny off.

  Cracking up, Victoria shakes her head. She takes a deep breath to contain herself. “Not that I’m aware of.” She turns to Pandora who’s singing Adele so off-key I’m afraid the fish are about to jump out of the water so they can die and stop the torture. “Hey Adele, did you eat anything today?”

  Thing is, Pandora can hold her liquor just as much as the next guy. Unless it’s on an empty stomach. The last time she drunk this much without food in her system we ended up in a police car. That time, I turned on the charm and we got off easy. Not before we took a selfie with the cute officer, of course.

  Eyes unfocused and happy, Pandora grins at us and shakes her head. “I had cereal and a banana for breakfast!”

  “Okay, and then?” I prompt.

  She shrugs. “Nothing, I thought we – we grab something together to – to – night.”

  “Oh boy.” I turn to Kayla who’s observing the situation with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Do you have anything edible on you?” I ask and then turn to Victoria in question. For the next few moments, we each rummage through our bags.

  “I have some gummy bears,” Victoria says, lifting her eyes to us. “Oh shit,” she murmurs to something she sees behind me.

  Kayla and I turn our heads. “Oh, shit,” we say in stereo.

  There are two somethings behind me.

  One is a half-naked friend who’s in the process of shimming out of her jeans, mumbling/slurring something about swimming. Thank God she still has her bra on. Would be better if it wasn’t as lacy, but still. Small mercies.

  The other is a park ranger who has suddenly shown up and is looking at Panda with the widest eyes. “Whoa, lady, you can’t—” He hurries her way. “Ma’am I need to ask you to—”

  “Yum, cute,” Pandora says, drinking up the official looking man. She spins to look at us, losing her balance as she does, and falls right into Ranger Rick’s nimble arms. It’s such a clumsy affair that somehow his hands through a back embrace end up cupping Pandora’s nearly naked girls.

  “God, I’m going to pee my pants,” Kayla wipes her eyes.

  “I’m dying, here,” I contribute.

  “Um, sir, we’re so sorry. We’re going to make sure to get our friend cover—,” Victoria assumes responsibility.

  The poor guy’s blush is almost tangible as he stands frozen, keeping our friend and her bosom from falling off the deck. Slowly, he stabilizes her and helps her put her shirt back on. He clears his throat. “Ladies, this is a family place, please try to behave
accordingly in the future,” he says, his eyes glued to Panda’s who grins at him and offers him her pinky.

  Kayla, Victoria, and I trade mystified looks as Ranger Rick links his pinky with our friend’s for a pinky promise. His smile pushes his dimples to sink in.

  “You have dimpilys! You’re sooooo much cuter-er than com-computer guy!” Pandora says to her new buddy.

  He still grins at her as he says, “Glad to hear that, ma’am.”

  Additional “this shit for real?” looks ensue between my friends and me.

  “What’s, what’sss your name, dimpilys guy?” Pandora flirts drunkenly.

  Dimples Ranger throws his head back with a chuckle. Then shakes his head, utterly amused. “It’s Danny, ma’am.” He extends his hand for a shake, which Pandora takes, and instead of reciprocating the gesture, unsteadily she brings it up to her lips and plants a kiss on it.

  “This is fucking gold,” Kayla says animatedly.

  Pandora shakes her head. “No.” We all, including Danny the Ranger guy, wait for her next words. “Jonathan! You’re Jonathan. Goes bb-etter with the dimpilys!”

  Danny laughs, seeming to find Drunk Panda extremely charming. “Sure thing. And you are?”

  Pandora bestows him a gigantic grin. “I’m Pan-Pandora, your future wife.”

  That’s when I decide to step in. “Listen, Panda, I think we should call it a night.” And add, “Before discussing nuptials,” on a murmur.

  “Hey,” Pandora raises a shaky hand to stop me. “Shu, you’re sup-sup, suppress! Suppressing my car-charisma”

  “Maybe stick to simple vocab,” I say under my breath, attempting to help little drunko keep some of her dignity. Danny steps back, allowing me to talk to my friend. “Let’s go home, okay?” I say.

  “KK,” Pandora says, nearly losing her balance again. “But first, I need a, wha-what do you c-call them?” Then she adds on a louder, excited tone. “A selfieee with Jon-Joathan.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Somehow Pandora manages to operate her phone as she gestures for Danny to join her. Playing along, Danny puts his arm around my friend and grins at the camera. Just before snapping the photo, Pandora smacks a kiss in the middle of Danny’s cheek.

  Danny chuckles again, completely amused. He sends his hand to his back pocket and produces a wallet. A moment later, he hands Pandora a business card. “Call me when you’re sober if you remember any of this.”

  Turning back to us, hugely grinning, Pandora shows us the card like a child who just got a sticker on her assignment. She turns back to Danny. “Of of-course I will, Jonathan. Tonight!” Then, “It’s des-tiny.”

  Moments later as we make our way back to the car, Kayla says to no one in particular, “If this is how Drunken Fishing Nights usually go, I’m so fucking in!”

  A Straight-edge Blade, Warm Towels, and the Three Josèphs

  “Dude, it looks like one of those places where chicks go together to get their feet done, the male edition,” Freddie says, giving the four leather chairs a hesitant stare.

  “You mean chicks and Francis,” I smirk at Billy who flips me the bird in return. I turn to Freddie. “And it’s getting their nails done, twat.”

  “Nails, feet, vaginas, whatever. Chicks sit on chairs just like these, cackle shit about dicks and tampons, and get something done.” Freddie retorts seeming somewhat concerned about the ritual we’re about to partake in.

  Billy and I shake our heads. It’s a fucking barbershop! One of my best friends is in a never-ending quest to embrace his metro sexuality while the other idiot is a semi-caveman, yet they somehow make this friendship work. Go figure.

  “Do you even listen to the shit coming out of your mouth?” Billy asks.

  “Billy!” A guy that looks like he stepped out of a sixties gangsters’ film greets Billy while walking our way. His thin hair is oiled back. He’s sporting a retro bowling shirt and a towel draped over his shoulder.

  “Josèphe!” Billy mirrors the warm greeting.

  They do the hug-pat on the shoulder thing before Billy introduces us.

  “Mario, Lorenzo,” Josèphe calls in the direction of the backroom while shaking our hands. Not a beat later, two Josèphe look-alikes materialize, with the matching shirts, towels over shoulders, only these two carry weapons. Two very sharp looking straight-edge blades. This place. I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony Soprano himself stepped in to collect an envelope from Josèphe.

  “Shit looks sharp,” Freddie whispers through the side of his mouth, his eyes like mine zoomed in on the glinting straight-edge blades.

  “If Francis’s brave enough to let that touch his precious face, I think we’ll be okay,” I say.

  Freddie chuckles.

  We go on mocking the thing till warm towels are wrapped around our faces. Then we shut up. Because . . . damn this feels amazing.

  “You can thank me later, assholes,” Billy says in a semi-sedated voice to our immediate silence.

  “Sure thing, Francis,” I counter, making Freddie snort a chuckle.

  Towels are removed from our faces, only for soft foaming cream to be applied in circles with chubby shaving brushes. I can totally get used to this.

  “Hey Brody, I swear I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore. Luckily, Freddie lets me know you’re among the living from time to time,” Billy says to me with his eyes closed, head tilted backward while Josèphe smooths a blade down his temple.

  “Yeah, I know, it’s been crazy. The past two weeks kicked my ass. Long shifts at the hospital and long hours studying, half of the time I didn’t even know what day it was.” It’s been insanity. But not all of it. Some of it was great. In the last week or so the thing with Anna took momentum, from a couple of emails a day, we moved on to writing each other much more frequently. There were days we had one long email conversation going on throughout the day. I’d write to her on my breaks while she answered between classes. I feel like I know her now. Know and like. And with Anna in mind, I say to the room with closed eyes, “I sort of met someone.”

  “Sort of?” Freddie asks. “Since when does Mister I-don’t-have-a-life make time to meet someone?”

  “It was through this weird email mix-up. We’ve been emailing for over three weeks now and she’s intelligent and fucking sweet and cool, and I swear I’m ready to propose.”

  “Whoa, what?” It’s Billy.

  I can just imagine his face, happy to keep my eyes closed.

  “Hold up, go back,” Freddie says. “Emailing? Like just online? Have you met her, you know, IRL – in real life?”

  “No.” I don’t elaborate.

  “Whoa.” It’s Billy again. “Wait a minute, tell me that she at least sent you a photo or you looked her up online.”

  “No and no.”

  “She refused to send you a photo? Why the fuck didn’t you Google her? You know her name, right?” Freddie’s turn.

  The Josèphe who’s working on my face wipes it with a towel, only to drape a warm one on next. “She didn’t refuse, I didn’t ask for one. Her name’s Anna Nielsen, and no I didn’t look her up.”

  “What are you now, a sapiosexual?” Bill asks in a tone I’m not sure is a genuine inquiry or one that throws shade.

  “The fuck’s that?” Yeah, that’s Freddie.

  Billy clears his throat. “Someone’s who’s attracted to intelligence before appearance.” He then resumes with further intellectual logic. “If she hasn’t met you in person and didn’t send you a photo, I’m betting my left nut she’s a medusa.”

  I chuckle at the idiocy. “Dude,” I shoot Billy’s way, then chuckle once more over the elated snort coming from Freddie. “Medusa? Seriously Francis?” I add. “At this point, honestly, I don’t really care how she looks.”

  Freddie lets out another sarcastic scoff. “The hell you would when you find out she’s a dog. No hot chick will chat you up for long without wanting you to see she’s hot.”

  I internally shake my head. Better not make
any sudden movements with that sharp blade in Other Josèphe’s hand. “She could easily think the same about me – that I’m some loser.”

  “She knows you’re a surgeon?” Billy asks.

  “Yeah?” I answer, not sure what that has got to do with anything.

  They hum in unison like two conspiring old ladies as if it explains anything.

  “What? What am I missing?” I ask.

  Billy is the one to elaborate. “You kidding me? Women barely hear the word doctor and they spontaneously combust.”

  I inwardly shake my head again. “That’s such – oh, c’mon.”

  “Liam Brody, don’t play dumb. We’ve both been long enough in this profession to know the effect it has.”

  “Billy Francis Smith you’ve just subjected an entire gender to this bullshit. That’s just wrong. While some like the idea, many wouldn’t give a damn.” I wince when aftershave is patted onto my freshly shaved face. The conversation pauses as we thank the Josèphes and head to the register for Josèphe to ring us up.

  As we leave the place, Billy grins at us expectantly. “Well, assholes?”

  We nod in unison.

  “It was unexpectedly awesome,” I say.

  “Besides the fact that we got treatments while talking about Liam’s feelings like three pussies, yeah, it was good,” Freddie says, and adds, “Talking about pussies, when are you meeting this new one?”

  “Say it again and I’ll deck you.” I eyeball Freddie.

  Grinning like the legitimate asshole that he is, Freddie spreads his arms in surrender. “Whoa, chill, lover boy.”

  “Okay, idiots, let’s go grab something to eat and then hit Poison?” Billy suggests. Getting our agreements in the form of unified nods, he says to me, “Did you talk about meeting in person?”

  I shrug. “We never talked about it. I don’t even know where she lives.”

  Freddie’s expression turns serious when he asks, “Don’t you want to?”

  I look at him pensively. I’m more than curious, but what good will it do? What if she’s just as great in real life? I don’t have the time for a relationship, and I have a hunch she’s not casual hookup material. Not to mention I might be going away for a while, very soon.