Night Time: Two Novels

by H. T. Night

  “Go see for yourself,” she said, and began wiping down the counter.

  I got up and hurried past Jonesy and went outside. I opened the door and right beside the door on the right was a beautiful brunette. She was sexy in a hot Playboy centerfold way, but still had enough girl next door in her to tell she was grounded. At least, I hoped so, you never know with girls from Southern California. She was looking at her phone and typing a text message. I decided I’d better do something, too, so it didn’t appear like I had only come outside to see her. Which I had. I took a couple of steps to the left and pretended to text on my phone.

  I mouthed out loud what I was supposedly texting to give the illusion I was really interested in my make-believe text. I had to play it like I was completely unaware of the hot brunette that I was standing next to me in the parking lot. This kind of move hardly ever works, but it was worth a shot.

  I took my time and eventually looked over at her to see that the brown-haired beauty and me were about fifteen feet apart. She caught me looking in her direction and I gave my sincerest, warmest smile. Her eyes locked in on me. Bingo! She was interested.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it was just the way you were looking at me.”

  “How was I looking at you?” I said, laughing.

  “I don’t know. You looked at me like you recognized me.”

  “Sorry, I was just texting a friend and you caught my eye.”

  She nodded her head like a woman who hears that kind of thing all the time. She stopped texting and looked up at me and said, “Why is the bar so dead?”

  “It’s usually pretty active. It is New Year’s Day.”

  “Oh yeah, it is. That’s funny, I was up until noon last night, I took and nap and then came here. So, it feels like the next day. Even though it’s the same day.”

  “That would do it to you. Sleeping during the day always messes up my internal body clock.”

  Then something odd happened. She looked at me with a concerned, puzzled look. I looked at her and then she motioned toward her nose. You know, that motion people do when you have a booger. Are you kidding me? Really? I have a big booger hanging out of my nose? Apparently, not just a small one, she looked at it like there was an asteroid hanging out of my nostril. I was horrified.

  She continued to stare right at my nostril and now her face went from moderate concern to absolute horror. How big was this booger? I finally reached toward my face and as I did I felt a drip fall from my nose to the ground below. Holy shit, my nose was bleeding.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, rushing over to me.

  I tilted back my head and the young lady pulled some tissue out of her purse.

  “Don’t put your head back you’ll choke on your own blood,” she said. “You need to lean forward and pinch your nose.” She grabbed my hand and led me back inside the bar. She walked me across the bar to the restroom area.

  “It only took you five minutes for her to punch you in the face, Tommy.” Megan yelled out, laughing, as I was being swept off by my new brown-haired friend.

  She took me into the ladies’ room. She was still holding my hand while she opened the door to the bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that there were no urinals and all of the stalls had doors. There was even a little table with a plant on top. Are you kidding me? The men’s bathroom was disgusting, and this bathroom looked like a room at the Hilton.

  “Lean over the sink,” she said. “Why is your nose bleeding? Did you get into a fight?”

  I pinched my nose and leaned over the sink. I looked at myself in the mirror. Damn! Even their mirror was bigger! The blood flow seemed to be slowing.

  “You have a name, bleeder?” the woman asked wiping my nose for me. She leaned in and wow, she smelled incredible. She smelled like vanilla and I liked vanilla a lot.

  “My name is Tommy.”

  “Tommy? Is it short for Thomas?”

  “No, and that wouldn’t be short. The two names are almost just as long.” I counted the letters in my head.

  “Okay, smartass. You never answered me. Is there a reason why you’re bleeding all over me?”

  I owed her an explanation; I mean after all, she had brought me into the women’s bathroom. “I’m a professional mixed martial arts fighter and sometimes my nose just unexpectedly bleeds. It has to do with the fact I’m constantly losing weight.”

  “A professional fighter?” her eyes lit up. “Nice. That is about the most interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “Is it more interesting than a guy bleeding in front of you, seconds after meeting him?”

  “No, that definitely was more interesting. You’re two for two in the intrigue department.”

  “What about you, Florence Nightingale? Do you have a name?

  “Yes, I do.” She continued to wipe my face.

  “Well...”

  “My name is Sasha.”

  “Sasha?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I know it sounds like a stripper name, but it was the name I was born with. I’m Argentinean and my parents were trying to be more American.”

  “Bambi or Bubbles wasn’t on your parent’s radar?”

  She laughed. “I guess there are worse stripper names. I should be thankful.”

  “I don’t think it sounds like a stripper, more like a villain in Batman.”

  “There you go. I could be Catwoman’s twin sister.”

  I finally took over and wiped my nose. “Not too many American girls would do the whole hot-nurse bit routine. So, I do have to give it up to Argentina.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all American, I was born here. My parents are from Argentina.”

  “Well, be sure to thank them for me. They raised an outstanding young lady.”

  “Wow, you lay it on thick, don’t you?”

  “In any other case, that would be an accurate statement, but in this case, I couldn’t be any more serious.”

  “You’re sweet.” And then she finally did it. She gave me the ‘I think you’re hot too’ look.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. It was the least I could do.

  Sasha looked at me in a way a girl does right before she makes the ‘I’ll hang with you for the next couple hours’ look. “Sure,” she said. “And you’re in luck. The bleeding has stopped.”

  “That’s good. It would give a whole new meaning to a Bloody Mary.”

  “Now, that’s just gross.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who got intimate with my nose, minutes after meeting me.”

  Sasha shook her and laughed and swung open the door. I looked at my nose in the mirror and it was bright red. Nice, I look like Rudolph.

  Sasha stepped outside the bathroom and took a seat at one of the many empty tables in the bar. I followed her and yelled out, “Megan, two more shots of Patron.” I decided to look at Sasha to see if tequila was okay.

  “Patron sounds good,” Sasha said, “and a beer chaser would be great. I only like imported beer; I’m girlie like that.”

  “Okay, green bottle it is,” I shouted one more time to Megan. “Make those two shots and 2 green bottles.”

  “Wow! Fancy, Tommy. She must have cleaned you up real good!” Megan winked at me.

  I ignored the comment.

  Megan made the drinks and brought them over and Sasha and I talked and laughed for the next couple of hours until Megan yelled out ‘last call.’

  Sasha told me she was a waitress at a coffee shop in Brea. She had gone to nursing school, but had to quit, due to lack of funds. We joked and laughed and made fun of just about everything we could think of. She was my kind of chick; she could dish it out and seemed to be up for anything.

  The bar closed down and I walked Sasha out to her car. I hadn’t drunk any alcohol since the first shot when we first sat down. I knew I had plenty of time for the alcohol to make its way through me. I could pass a breathalyzer test
any day of the week. Sasha, on the other hand, was a buck fifteen at the most, and she followed her shot and beer with about three more beers and two more shots.

  “You okay to drive?” I asked

  “Oh, is this your big ‘don’t drink and drive’ move, where you convince little old me to sleep over and you’ll give me the bed and you’ll sleep on the couch?”

  “Who said I would be the one sleeping on the couch?”

  “Oh, confident, are we?”

  “Not confident. I just have my dates take the couch. I find it’s the right thing to do once I’m completely done with the seduction aspect of the evening.”

  “Seduction? A girl should be so lucky!”

  “Honestly, I thought I’d take you to Denny’s to get some coffee. I don’t make it a habit to take girls to my place right after I first meet them.”

  “Oh, you live with your parents!” Sasha began laughing hysterically. “I knew your charm came with a price.”

  “No. I live alone in a two-bedroom apartment by myself. And, I don’t remember my parents. I was raised by my grandparents. My grandma mostly.”

  “Aww.” Sasha was really buzzed. She began touching my face in a way that wasn’t the least bit sexy. “That explains your Southern charm.”

  “Southern charm?” Maybe Southern California charm. There is nothing Southern about me.”

  “Trust me; I’ve spent a lot of time in the South. You would fit right in. They’re all corn-fed like you.” Sasha then began feeling my muscles. “Damn, you’re really muscular. How many hours a day do you work out?” She felt my entire upper body. I eventually stopped her hands before she got to my legs and put them by her side.

  “Look, let’s go to Denny’s. You’re drunker than I thought. We’ll hang out there until you can think clearly.”

  Sasha had taken out her keys when we first left the bar, but now she was putting them back in her purse. “I guess I could use some coffee. Coffee would sober me up.”

  “That’s my Mustang over there.” I pointed across the parking lot at my bad boy.

  “Nice, like I said, very Southern. All it’s missing is a Dale Earnhardt for President sticker on the bumper.”

  I walked her over to my vehicle. I opened the door and helped her in the passenger side. I shut the door and walked behind the car and watched as Sasha looked at my door and noticed it was locked, she leaned her drunk body over and unlocked my door. One more for Argentina! I loved it when a girl did that. It shows she’s thinking outside herself. Sasha was drunk and she still pulled it off. Bravo!

  Chapter Two

  We went to the Denny’s off of Harbor Boulevard in Fullerton. During the entire ride, Sasha touched my arms, well, maybe more like petted them, like they were kittens. The angel on my shoulder was telling me to go to Denny’s and the damn devil was saying, ‘Screw Denny’s, it’s time for some loving.’ The angel eventually won the battle.

  We got to Denny’s and ordered enough food to feed six people. I was happy to see that Sasha was throwing down her coffee like her shots and I knew she’d be sober in no time.

  We continued to talk for a good hour until our conversation led me to ask, “So, Shiners isn’t exactly a hopping, happening place. What brought you to that hole-in-the-wall bar on a holiday?”

  “I was bored and hoping to play some darts. That place must be the only bar in the United States that doesn’t have a dart board.”

  “Oh, that’s why you left so fast. I actually took it personally.”

  “You never even turned around. You didn’t even know I was in the bar!”

  “I knew you were in the bar.” I smirked and took a sip of my soda.

  “You’re just the babe-hound aren’t you?”

  “Not really. The bartender knows what I like.”

  “You were given the heads’ up? I see how it is. You let that poor bartender do all your dirty work.”

  “She did say you were her type.”

  “Well, it’s nice to be adored.”

  “You don’t strike me as a woman who is hurting for adoration.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised. So, when you came outside to make a text, that was all for show?”

  “I did mention earlier on I had a Theater Arts degree.”

  “Nice performance.”

  “It’s only fun if there’s an audience.”

  “Even if it’s an audience of one?”

  “If that audience is you, I’d perform all night,” I said, winking at her.

  “All night? That’s impressive coming from a bleeder.”

  “Did I mention that my erections are like a locomotive charging through the Midwest, carrying steel as cargo?”

  “You might have glossed over that little nugget of info.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “I’ll be sure to put that in my penis journal.”

  “Are there are lot of entries?” I asked, smiling.

  “These days, not enough.”

  “You can also add in your little journal that I have a beautiful penis.”

  “It will be duly noted. Can we get off your penis?”

  “I wasn’t aware that you had gotten on,” I joked.

  “Neither had I!” Sasha slammed the table at her burn. “Ouch! Game, set, match.”

  I laughed out loud. “Now that was fun.”

  “You have no idea how much fun I can be.”

  “All right, tell me. What do you do for fun?”

  Sasha liked this question. She sat up and everything. “I’m an actress.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I’m trying to be.”

  “What kind?” I asked.

  “One who talks.”

  “Very nice,” I said, sarcastically. “What I meant was what kind of actress: TV, movie, stage?”

  “Stage and some television.”

  “Some television, really?” I was sincerely impressed.

  “Yep, so you’re not the only actor here.”

  “Oh, I’m not an actor. I got a general Theater Arts degree. It was better than doing math.”

  “Well, I’m trying to be an actress.”

  “You do look like Audrey Hepburn if she grew her hair long.”

  “I’ve been told that before. And I think it’s going to be hard for Audrey Hepburn to grow any kind of hair anymore.”

  “Don’t be a downer. I like remembering my Hollywood divas alive.” I took another drink of my soda and decided to ask, “What else do you like to do?”

  “I like surfing!”

  “Surfing?” Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  “Where do you surf?”

  “Everywhere. Malibu, Newport Beach, you name it.”

  “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re a beautiful Argentinean woman, who wants to be an actress and loves to surf?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Damn, it’s like every man’s dream.”

  “All those things are superficial, though.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s every guy’s dream on paper. The reality is something quite different.”

  “The reality of what?”

  “The reality of you,” I explained, plainly.

  “You think you know me after a couple of drinks, and a Moons Over My Hammy. You think you got me all figured out at a Denny’s at 3 a.m.?”

  “I think I do.”

  “You’re not being serious, are you?” Sasha really didn’t like the fact I would have the gall to say something like that to her.

  I looked at Sasha and grinned. “Okay, let me give it my best shot and if I’m completely wrong, I’ll pay for the meal.”

  “Oh, you’re paying for the meal, nonetheless, but please enlighten me.”

  I took the last sip of my drink and sat up straighter for my opening statement. “You’re very pretty. So, you probably don’t get asked out much. When you do, it’s either by a rich guy who’s old enough to be your father or a guy who thinks he is the most beautiful pers
on in every room, not you. Both turn you off, so that’s why you settle for the bad boy. I fit the bad-boy image so that’s why you have spent the last 3 hours and 17 minutes with me. You like the bad boy because you like to think you can tame him. But you also secretly love the fact that he’s unpredictable and might not call you for a couple of days at any given time. But, that gets old and eventually you move on and that is why you have had hundreds of one-month relationships over the years. With bad boys.”

  Sasha smiled and I knew I had hit some truth about her, so I continued, “You’re an actress because you like to escape. You could never be a prostitute or a nun in real life, but you like the idea of becoming whatever you won’t, with any given script. You like the idea of escaping in little intervals but you’re far too interested in your own life to do it for any long period of time.”

  Sasha nearly came out of her skin on that one. I continued, “You surf because it’s the one thing you know for damn sure you can’t control, so you don’t even try. You ride each wave and get turned on by its power and unpredictability. The more you fall off a board and get back on, the more it gives you a sense of accomplishment and survival. Both are things that you desire daily. You thrive on these two things: power and unpredictability. How am I doing?”

  “Go on,” she said.

  Now Sasha was looking at me like she had seen a ghost, so I knew I was reading her better than any psychic friends network employee ever could. “You’re alone at the moment, but you have ten guys you can call that would leave a girlfriend, a wife, or any other person they were involved with to have one more night with you. That’s because not only are you gorgeous, you are very passionate in the bedroom, and like to take on all kinds of roles. You’re afraid to truly let go, out of your fear of real intimacy, emotional intimacy, I mean But secretly, you’re waiting for that one guy who completely ‘gets’ you and that’s the moment you have longed for. That’s the moment that you know in your heart that when you finally find him, you’re ready to completely let go.”

  Sasha continued to stare at me and slowly shake her head in disbelief, so I decide to finish her off. “At this very moment, you are intrigued by my insight and candor, but yet you’re still afraid that this is ‘my game’ and I’m trying to back-door you to get you into bed. Part of you doesn’t give a shit, but the real true part of you, the one that cries at weddings and Kleenex commercials, is praying that I’m being sincere. All I can tell you is that I am, being sincere that is, and I think you’re about the sexiest woman I have ever seen. I say this not as a line, just as a statement of fact. I couldn’t care less if you believe me or not, because I know what I’ve said has ministered to your soul. So, Sasha, girl I met for the first time tonight, how did I do?”