WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made
Page 33
The girl smiled, but before she could respond, one of her friends grabbed her arm and dragged her away.
Matt and Julien could hear the young girls cackling and teasing the blonde as they left the bar in a hurry.
Matt shook his head. His voice shot up an octave or two, “How the hell do you do that?”
“What? I can’t hear you,” Julien lied, pointing up at the sound system, bracketed directly over their heads.
“It’s the accent,” Matt narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He envied Julien for more than just his way with women.
Julien flashed him a grin then laughed, “That bird was about to neuter you.”
“Chick,” Matt corrected him then bounced a finger in the air, indicating he suddenly had it all figured out, “it can’t be the French thing alone,” he shook his head and added, “you look like money, you’ve got that rugged, I’ve taken a punch or two face...” He continued to study Julien, in search of his secret.
Matt’s choice of phrasing flooded Julien with memories of his father’s final blow, “You scare me sometimes, you know?”
Julien got the attention of their favorite server. He held up two fingers and she nodded, knowing well what their order would be. He turned his attention back to Matt, all the while attempting to shake the memory of his father’s attack.
“Maybe if you ironed your shirt now and then, the birds would give you the time of day,” Julien placed his cell phone on the table, “and, why? You have Lily, and she is very beautiful. What do you want the attention of these little girls for anyway?”
Matt ignored the question and continued his analysis of Julien, “…and that…that moody thing you do…that, that, aloof thing...anyway, so Phil,” he hopped from topic to topic rambled incessantly about his conversation with their boss, while Julien checked his phone.
Brandy arrived with their drinks. In her late-forties, the former exotic dancer stood beside them, dressed in a short, catholic schoolgirl uniform; the bar’s required garb.
Matt placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her close for the moment. He knocked his drink back, draining it in one swallow then requested another.
He pointed to Julien, “You?”
Julien nodded and took a sip of his drink.
The server winked, “How you doin’, Julien?” she said with a smoke garbled, Brooklyn accent.
“Good, Brandy, et toi?” he winked back at her.
“Rockin’ n’ rollin’, gorgeous, rockin’ n’ rollin’,” she said, before leaving the table with an overstated swish of her blue, plaid miniskirt.
With great exuberance, Matt mimed air drums to Poison’s, Talk Dirty to Me, while Julien did everything in his power to ignore the performance.
Still banging his head, Matt tilted his glass and slid a few ice cubes into his mouth, crunching them rapidly.
Julien looked around the clustered bar, scanning the crowd.
Matt stopped his drum solo as his eyes fell on a beautiful redhead entering the pub. He slid the last ice cube into his mouth and crunched down on it then caught Julien’s attention.
He nodded in the girl’s direction, “Check that one out,” he said.
Julien reluctantly turned around to glance toward the door. He stopped dead, recognizing the girl from moments earlier, humming her way down Madison Avenue.
The girl shook the snow off her bright red coat then looked around the bar. Several men eyed her as she squeezed through the tables and patrons, heading for the bar.
Julien turned back to the table and picked up his drink. He took in the last of it and put the down the glass, just in time for Brandy to bring the next round.
Matt leaned over, “Hey Brandy, you know her?” he asked, nodding toward the girl.
Brandy squinted and came up on her toes, craning her neck to see over the crowd.
She shook her head, “Nope. She’s new. Never saw her before.”
Matt stood up and smiled as he took his drink from her tray.
Brandy added, “Simmer down there, Sparky. Last I checked, you have a wife…and that one there…she looks like a whole lotta trouble,” she shook her head and placed Julien’s drink down on a napkin.
“Whoa, hey now, not for me. For this one,” he motioned to Julien.
“Me?” Julien shook his head, “No, no…no thank you.” He took a sip of his next drink.
Matt leaned across the table on his elbows, “Yeah, well, she’s lookin’ right at you.”
Julien shrugged it off and took another sip.
“Dude, whaddya gonna be single forever?” Matt stood back up and began another round of air drums.
“Matthew, she is a girl. Twenty-years-old…twenty-two, at most.” He took another sip of his drink, “I do not need this kind of trouble.”
Brandy winked and patted Julien’s shoulder, “Thatta boy.” She smiled and walked away.
“Dude! That chick is burning holes in your back with her eyes.”
Julien shook his head, “Forget about her.”
“Hey, she just looked away. You’re gonna lose her to one of these schmucks. Go over there. Go buy her a drink.”
“Matthew, what is with you? Do you think I am lonely? That I am desperate? She is too young.”
Matt’s eyes grew wide, “Oh shit, Brother, she’s coming over here.” He lifted his drink and knocked back the last of it, “Lily’s got dinner on the table. I have to go anyway.”
Julien began to protest, but Matt slapped him on the back as he passed by.
“Take care of this. I’ll buy next Friday,” Matt said in a hurry, keeping one eye on the girl as she cut through the room.
Julien watched Matt head out the door then felt a hand come down delicately on his arm. He closed his eyes then drew a long breath before turning around to face her.
Stunning, she stood beside him, with large green eyes, looking at him intently. He hadn’t been uncomfortable around women since his teens and felt a little foolish just sitting there speechless. She let go of his arm and smiled. She had a shyness about her and a familiarity which intrigued him.
He laughed, “’allo,” he said and waited for her to speak.
The girl looked around the bar; her eyes sparkled in the colorful stage lighting decorating the darkened room.
She looked back at him, but said nothing.
“Do you need a table?” he asked, “I am leaving anyway. Take this one,” he offered as he took another sip of his drink and prepared to down the rest. His eyes fell on the stack of magazines, she held close to her chest.
She followed his gaze and quickly put them down on the table, revealing a marble notebook on top; the name, Sarah, written on the cover.
“Sarah, the table is all yours,” he said and gave a fast nod before turning away.
The girl grabbed his arm again, this time forcefully stopping him. He looked back at her, confused. Her eyes locked with his; her lips quivered, as if she wanted to say something.
He leaned in closer, as the music blared above.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned and surprised by her grip on his arm.
She parted her lips and paused for several seconds.
Julien stood before her, baffled and waiting.
“You can’t leave,” she said.
He laughed uncomfortably and glanced around. He found Brandy in the crowd and held up two fingers.
The waitress looked at the girl standing beside him. She smirked and shook her head.
He looked back at Sarah and thought he saw fear in her eyes. He nodded slowly, unsure, then stepped closer to the table, compelled to stay.
Brooklyn’s Bio
Originally from New York City, Brooklyn Hudson sent out her first publishing query (and received her first decline) at age eleven. Refusing to give up, she studied the masters and gradually honed her fiction skills, determinedly indulging her passion for character development and storytelling. The reigning Queen of Replica-Rock, she wrote, directed, and produced music themed theatrical stage
shows for Las Vegas showrooms and touring companies. Throughout the decades, she has penned fifteen novels and twelve screenplays. She currently lives in Los Angeles with, Willow, a tenacious fox squirrel, Brooklyn now writes full-time.
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