Progress (Progress #1)

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Progress (Progress #1) Page 6

by Amalie Silver


  By the time I woke, we were only five minutes from the restaurant. “Sorry,” I gurgled. “I fell asleep.”

  He lit a cigarette and laughed. “Don’t be. Are you going to the patio party next weekend?” he asked.

  I yawned. “The what?”

  “You know, the grand opening party for the patio. At The Crimson. Remember? Your job. The place you work? I guess they have it every year,” he said.

  “I’m probably working it. I hadn’t heard about it.”

  He chuckled. “It’s an excuse to drink, and I’m always up for one of those.”

  “Sure, then. I suppose.” I shrugged.

  “Good, good.” He pulled into the parking lot and parked next to my Taurus. “Have a good night. See ya, Red.” He leapt out of the car and jogged to the employee entrance.

  I got out and shut the door. “Thanks!” I chirped, wondering why he’d leave me alone in his car. “See ya,” I whispered.

  So much for sentimental goodbyes.

  I plopped my ass into my driver’s seat and stuck the key into the ignition, but just as I was about to pull out of my spot, I heard a knock on my window.

  “You scared the crap out of me!” I yelped, rolling down my window. “What’s up, Jess?”

  “I almost forgot: Lily told me to give this to you. You know, for ‘watching out for’ me.” He grinned and handed me a large silk sunflower.

  I smiled. “That was sweet of her. Tell her I prefer daisies…” I laughed.

  He tapped the roof of my car twice and nodded. “Good to know, Charlie. Goodnight.” With a wink, he ducked back into the restaurant.

  Chapter Six

  Charlie

  I looked in my closet, mortified.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Angie!

  Quickly, I picked up my phone and dialed Angie’s cell.

  “Hello?”

  “I need you. Like right now,” I said in a frenzy.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Are you going to the patio party tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’m working it, why?” she asked.

  “I have absolutely nothing to wear. I look fat in everything!”

  I hadn’t seen Jess in over a week. To date, I’d lost seventeen pounds. Only about eighty away from my goal. Still, it was too important to me to arrive in anything that wouldn’t accentuate the positives and eliminate the negatives.

  She paused, and I wasn’t sure if she had hung up.

  “Angie?”

  “Okay, where is my friend Charlie and what have you done with her? Since when did you become all choosy with your wardrobe? No offense, but up until last year you were wearing your dad’s sweatshirts and a pair of balloon pants you got in the seventh grade.”

  Angie had always been a big girl. But she either didn’t get teased as much as I did or she didn’t let it bother her. I envied that about her. I also envied her wardrobe. She knew what to wear to flatter her figure.

  “I—uh—I…” I stuttered. “I just want to look good, that’s all.” I was a terrible liar.

  “Mmmm…Hmmm. Who is he?” Angie saw right through me.

  “Oh jeez. No one. Can’t I just want to look good?”

  “No,” she giggled. “But I’ll drop it for now. If you want, you can come over this afternoon and raid my closet. But I have to be at work by four o’clock. You have two hours to get your ass over here before I start getting ready for work.”

  “I’m coming now. Be there in ten.” I hung up the phone and grabbed my purse.

  Nine minutes later, I pulled into her apartment parking lot and raced to the door. After two rings, the door buzzed and unlocked. I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and banged on her apartment door.

  “Come in!” I heard from behind it.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I called. “Hey, you have any coffee?” I walked into the kitchen and ran water into the carafe.

  “Yeah, it’s in the freezer! When you’re done, come into my room!”

  I prepared the pot and then walked down the hallway. She was still in bed, wearing pajamas and watching a rerun of Jersey Shore.

  “Have you ever watched this show? It’s addicting,” she said, never taking her eyes from the screen.

  “Oh, um. No, never. Can I rummage through?” I asked with a one-track mind, pointing toward the closet.

  “Go ahead,” Angie said.

  “Any suggestions on what you think would look good? I’m horrible with this kind of thing,” I said, overwhelmed by the two long rows of clothes hanging in the walk-in.

  “Um…let’s see.” Angie joined me at my side with one hand on her hip, tapping her lips with her fingers.

  Hanger by hanger, she hand-selected a dozen different styles and threw them on her bed. “Your body is perfectly proportioned. You’ve got a great hourglass to work with—you’re tall, have long legs, smaller around the waist, and your curves are kickin’, so all we have to do is punch up your style a little bit.” She stood at her bedside and tilted her head. “Have you lost weight?”

  I blushed and looked down. “Not that it matters much. I’m still huge.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “You’re not that big, Charlie.” She lifted my chin. “Whoever he is, we’ll make sure he notices you tonight.”

  I nodded. “Okay. But please don’t make me try on that one.” I pointed to a zigzag patterned orange-and-blue dress. “I don’t want him to notice me that much.”

  After an hour of trying on Angie’s clothes, I settled on a black wrap dress that came to my knees and a three-quarter-length sleeve. Nothing designer, but it made my boobs look big and my waist look smallish.

  “Okay, next problem…makeup,” I pleaded.

  “Seriously, I have, like, an hour before I have to leave for work. I’m in my pajamas, hon.”

  “That’s okay! Just tell me how I should do it and I’ll attempt it myself.”

  Angie nodded, and after a few tips on how to separate the bush that comprised my eyebrows and a suggestion to go shoe shopping, she waved me out the door.

  I stopped by a discount shoe store on my way home and found a cheap pair of chunky heels. When I got home, I stared at the mirror for twenty minutes before I finally picked up the foundation and powder.

  Here goes nothing.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlie

  I’m nervous. What am I, sixteen years old? Pull your shit together. If he really wanted to see me before now, he knows where I work. I’m getting bent out of shape for someone who probably doesn’t really give a shit.

  It was late in the evening when I finally arrived at The Crimson. My feet already hurt from the heels, and I hoped to quickly find a spot to rest them.

  The bar buzzed with life; patrons gathered in small circles trying to chat over the music, three bartenders rushed to get drinks prepared, and Angie swept past me with a “Hey, girl,” and was gone again before I could respond.

  I squeezed between the customers, carefully looking at each booth before I reached the patio doors. Once outside, I spotted Paulina and Marco sitting at a table in the corner and exhaled in relief.

  The patio was lit up; white Christmas lights were strung from each umbrella top, and they made the red brick of the restaurant sparkle. Just beyond the patio was a massive ravine with a small pond in the center.

  “Holy shit, Chuck! You look hot!” Marco choked on his beer before eyeing me up and down.

  I felt good. Better than good. The best I had in a long time. I’d taken Angie’s suggestion for a smoky eye, plucked my eyebrows, and applied a pale lipstick. My hair was twisted and held up with bobby pins, giving it a bit of funk and pulling it away from my face.

  “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Thanks, Marco.” I blushed.

  “God, I hope not. Sit down. Why are you so dressed up?” he asked.

  Oh, you know. For a guy that probably won’t even show up. “Long story. I don’t wan
t to get into it,” I said, taking a seat.

  “You do look really good, Char,” Paulina slurred. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up, and I’ve known you for like twenty years! Oh. Twenty years! We’re so old!” she gasped.

  I laughed just as Angie stopped by to take my drink order. “It’s crazy here. I’m making so much money!” She wiped her brow and looked down. “I meant to tell you earlier: you look awesome, babe. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Thanks. An iron butterfly on the rocks, please.”

  Angie nodded and flew to the next table.

  “Are you guys waiting for anyone?” I asked.

  “Yes, Troy said he’d stop by.” Paulina flushed. “And Paris and Tanya are meeting us here, too.”

  “And I’m waiting for Dom to get off work,” Marco said.

  “Do you mind if I sit here for a while then? Just until they get here?”

  “Of course you can! You can stay here all night if you want. It’s a party!” Paulina bellowed. When she stopped giggling, she took another sip of her beer and pointed at me. “Are you losing weight? You look skinny tonight.”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. “I refuse to weigh myself.” But I knew. I’d weighed myself twice a day for the past few weeks. Almost twenty pounds down altogether, and I’m about to eat my own arm. I’m so hungry.

  All night, fellow employees stopped by the table to compliment me on my new look. Tanya barely recognized me when she joined us, and had to look at me twice. I wasn’t sure how much I enjoyed the new attention, but the liquor had numbed me enough to push it aside and deal with it later.

  The casual conversation flew once I had a few drinks in my system. But the first word I slurred cut them off quickly. Any more and I wouldn’t be able to drive home. So I ordered a Cherry Coke and sipped quietly, keeping my eyes locked on the patio door.

  My fuzzy mind sobered quickly. It was then eleven o’clock, and the party would end at midnight.

  Where is he?

  Finally, at eleven thirty, I got a glimpse of Jesse through the bar windows. I sat up straight, crossed my legs, and tried to remain calm. But those damn jitters surfaced again, and I couldn’t help but stay optimistic about his reaction. I sat on my hands just in case they started to tremble.

  Jesse slapped open the patio door and it was impossible not to notice his presence. The door ricocheted off a bus tub and knocked over a stack of dirty dishes. They tumbled to the concrete, shattering into pieces. Every person outside stopped to look at who had made the scene.

  His eyes locked with mine as if he hadn’t even heard the noise. The bright blue from a week prior had vanished, leaving them a dull gray.

  He was drunk.

  Very drunk.

  Too drunk.

  I let out a sigh as the butterflies crashed, and felt the regret hit me in the pit of my stomach. I’m so fucking stupid. This was a very bad idea.

  “Thanks, Jess,” Angie barked at his side and walked into the bar to retrieve a broom and dustpan.

  He ignored her.

  With sloppy strides he walked to our table, threw himself into a chair next to Paulina, and put an arm around her shoulder. Other than his initial glance my way, he hadn’t looked at me since. Perhaps he had only looked past my shoulder anyway.

  He didn’t care that Troy, Paulina’s boyfriend, sat on her other side. Jesse leaned in close, closer than he’d ever gotten to me, and whispered in her ear.

  I tried not to look—to stare—but just by the goose bumps on Paulina’s arms, I could almost feel Jesse’s warm breath on my ear too.

  “Hey Paulina. How ya been?” he purred, his normally gruff voice replaced with a smooth one.

  She tried to pull away, but Jesse had a firm grip on her wrist. She swung her head around and pleaded to Troy with her eyes.

  Picking up on the cue, Troy cut in. “Whoa, easy there, buddy.”

  “Buddy?” Jesse scoffed. “My name is Jesse.” His eyes flickered to mine quickly, and they softened.

  I looked away, staring at the concrete floor. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jess shake his head from the place his thoughts had brought him to. By the time I looked up again, his hard façade had returned.

  Troy laughed. “Jesse? Isn’t that a chick’s name?” A small snort came from his nose as he chuckled at his own joke.

  Uh oh.

  Not good.

  Jesse stood, kicking his chair backwards. His nostrils flared and his arms bulged outward as he tried to preserve some of the dignity he felt Troy had taken from him. “A girl’s name. Original.” He flexed his jaw. “Why don’t we step out into the parking lot and I’ll show what it feels like to get your ass handed to you.”

  Troy obviously hadn’t been let in on the fact that Jesse had a short fuse. Neither had I. Though it would’ve been a safe assumption.

  “Whoa,” Troy said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “We’re all friends here. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll order a round.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his money clip.

  For as cheesy and pompous I found Troy to be, his tactic was effective. Jesse’s face relaxed as he glanced over at me and picked up his chair.

  There was no way I could keep calm. I kept my hands beneath me, but I could feel them shake along with the thumping in my chest. Not only had the tension at the table increased tenfold with Jesse’s arrival, but I also feared what would happen next.

  Still, I remained quiet and waited for someone else to trigger his anger.

  “Hey, guys!” Adam approached our table.

  Oh, shit.

  “Hi Adam!” Paulina said loudly, clearly feeling the tension too.

  “Hi, Jesse, Paulina, Troy…” His eyes followed the line around the table, and paused when they landed on me. “Damn, Charlie. You’re looking good tonight. What are you so dressed up for?”

  “Me,” Jesse growled.

  Paulina’s brow furrowed and she looked back and forth at the two of us. Jesse’s eyes narrowed in on mine, and my face burned from humiliation.

  “She dressed up for me,” Jesse repeated, and smiled smugly at Adam. “Didn’t you, Charlene?”

  I tried to keep my mouth from opening from his audacity, but I couldn’t find enough strength. My lips parted slightly, and I didn’t understand why he’d do something like that to me.

  If I’d thought we had any shot at a friendship, or even something more, that had been whisked away with his last statement. The bastard was just toying with me.

  “Hey, Jess! There you are,” a voice sang from the door.

  Neither of us looked at her, and we continued to stare at each other with heated glares.

  “You ran away,” the girl said, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Who are your friends?”

  She was a waif of a thing, five feet tall, no more than a hundred pounds. Her pink tube top showed off her flat stomach and a sleeve of tattoos down one arm. Curly brown hair fell to her collarbone, and her lips looked like she’d just sucked dry the neck of a mortal.

  Jesse’s throat bobbed and he finally looked away from me. His hands covered hers and he gave them a tight squeeze. “They’re no one. Let’s go.” He rose abruptly and guided her back through the patio doors.

  “Whatever,” Paulina snipped.

  “I thought he was going to kick the shit out of me!” Troy said.

  But while they exclaimed unsavory comments back and forth, I sat quietly, trying to hold back my tears and watching Jesse leave through the window. Stupid stupid stupid.

  What was I thinking?

  Did I think this dress and some makeup would make me pretty enough for him? It’s just like he said.

  I’m no one.

  “I should probably go.” I cleared my throat. “I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Are you okay to drive?” Troy asked, standing with me.

  Nothing could have sobered me quicker than this night.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  ***

&nbs
p; When I got home, I ran to the bathroom. I scrubbed off all of my makeup, buffing so hard that my eyes and face turned bright pink. I brushed my teeth, turned off the light, and got into bed.

  You’re nothing, Charlie Johnson. Nothing. You’re a waste of a human being. A huge, worthless, disgusting human being.

  Like so many days growing up, I balled myself up under my sheets and sobbed.

  Chapter Eight

  Charlie

  My life hadn’t equipped me with the emotional maturity I needed to carry on like Jesse hadn’t broken me the night before. I was irritable at work, looking over my shoulder for someone who—according to the schedule—would be there that evening.

  Our paths didn’t cross often that night, and when they did, we didn’t speak to each other. That was fine by me. Every time he got within fifteen feet of me, my anger and unease flushed my skin and my flight instincts kicked in.

  But who was I to be angry with him? I was no one but a fat slob with an endless supply of cigarettes. There were no signs he viewed me as anything but a friend. My anger was irrational and I knew it, but that didn’t stop it from stinging like a bitch.

  If I stayed mad at him, our friendship was done. That’s how friendships worked. Yet his honesty and bluntness were just enough for me to question whether or not I wanted it to be the end. It wasn’t as though he’d feel it necessary to apologize, and for how drunk he was, he probably wouldn’t even remember his snide comments.

  “They’re no one. Let’s go,” he’d said.

  Most of what he said wasn’t far from illogical, and for all that I’d internalized when it came to Jesse, that unexplainable pull to know more about him strengthened. My whole life had proven I’d do the opposite with his kind of confrontational nature, but my intrigue was too piqued. And my self-esteem had me in a chokehold.

  I wanted to be somebody.

  I wanted to be somebody to him.

  There was something familiar about his pensive and bitter personality that made ignoring him next to impossible. I’d never been so conflicted with my pull toward someone. Hell, I’d never been pulled toward anyone like that, period.

 

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