by TC Matson
“Smells fantastic, doesn’t it. We had it on sale so I ordered a bottle.”
“Is this the two-hundred-dollar bottle you were grumbling about being too expensive?”
She cuts her eyes at me playfully. “It. Was. On. Sale.”
I laugh. “No judgement. Splurge away! It smells good.”
“Exactly why I bought it,” she says. “There’s a quiet bar downtown. It isn’t too loud. We can dance if we want, or hang out at the tables in the back. I thought it would be perfect.”
“Do they serve liquor?” I deadpan.
“They do.”
“Then I’m down.” If she’s going to force me out, I’d like to hunt for my smile at the bottom of many glasses. It has to be there somewhere.
And of course, she’s right. This isn’t your typical night club. They have music playing and a dance floor, but it’s separate from the tables off in the back. And although you can still hear the music, it isn’t so loud you have to yell over it. My body isn’t being slammed by the deep hits of bass, or ears bleeding from the loud lyrics. And I’m relieved to see college kids aren’t running amok.
The bartender…gah… That man either has eyes of a God or contacts. It’s criminal to have bright blue eyes of that nature. And his tousled inky black hair only complements them more.
We found a table closer to the front, but far enough where we still don’t have to yell over the music. April sits where she can keep an eye on the dance floor. “Just because you’re not here to get picked up, I’m ready to be swooped away.”
“Mind if I join you, ladies.”
He’s got long brown hair, disheveled mixed with spikey, a beaming white smile sitting on a jaw that hasn’t been shaved and a white shirt unbuttoned at the top under a blazer jacket. You’d think if he’s out to nab a hookup, he would’ve put more effort into his looks.
I can’t get past the patch of hair clawing out of the top of his shirt.
“Sure!” April chimes and scoots over.
I’m glad. I wasn’t moving.
“How are you ladies tonight?” he asks with a failed swoony voice, darting his eyes between her and me.
“Great,” April says before his gaze shifts to me waiting for a reply.
It takes all I have not to roll my eyes. I take a sip of my rum and coke and allow it to burn a smile across my lips. “Peachy.”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you ladies here,” he says.
I don’t like him. Nope. Not one bit. “So you come here often…” I swirl my hand insinuating for a name.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He laughs nervously and I’ve deemed him a douche. “I’m John.”
“So you come here often, John?” My voice is flat.
April bugs her eyes at me when he isn’t looking and this causes me to give in to my eye roll.
“Not too often.”
“Then it would make sense why it’s the first time you’ve seen us here then, huh?” I grumble.
He looks to April, back to me, and tilts his head. “I hope you have a better night,” he says and leaves.
“Will do!” I call out behind him.
“What the fuck was that?” April hisses.
“I didn’t like him.”
“You need to lighten up. Just because you’re not here for anyone doesn’t mean I’m not. Calm the inner bitch,” she says. “How’d you not like him when he didn’t get one sentence out before you sank claws in his neck.”
“The curly pubes popping out of his collar.” I start off strong but end in a giggle fit.
“Oh my god, that’s disgusting,” April chortles.
“It has the exact same texture as pubes. Twirl it in your fingers. No difference,” I jest.
“I’ll never look at chest hair the same.”
My laughter dies down as a familiar sensation begins crawling at the base of my neck. Heat tumbles over my skin contradicting the annoying chill shooting down my spine. Quickly, I scan the crowd, checking from the bar to deep into the dancing bodies, but I come up empty handed. I rub the back of my neck trying to relieve the sensation, but it isn’t going away.
“He’s gorgeous,” April sighs, and I turn following her stare.
April and I have always had different taste in men. Her being six years older, she prefers an older man in his mid to late thirties and well dressed, one who doesn’t mind suits and ties. In order for them to win her heart, they must look good clean shaven with an incredibly nice smile. I, on the other hand, prefer a more casual look, less upkeep so to speak. I don’t care if they shave or not, but if they have a beard, it’s got to be well-groomed and not wild outback woods hunter style. I don’t care to nuzzle against a hibernating bear.
But, for once, the universe has lined it up for me to agree with what she’s looking at. He has to live part time in a gym with the way his red t-shirt is hugging his body, showing off his oversized muscles. From this distance, he looks like he could be a surfer, with messy dirty blond hair and a damn good looking smile.
“He just turned twenty-one,” I quip twisting back to her.
“Old enough to let me show him a good time,” she purrs. “Just because I’m in my thirties doesn’t mean I can’t have fun. Thirties is the new twenties.”
“Then that makes him a teenager,” I snort.
“Quit being a Debby Downer. If I want to dream. Let me chase them.”
I snicker. “Go ahead. I’ll refill your drink and have it ready for you to cry in when he calls you Mom.”
She drops her head back and laughs loudly, flirtatiously too loudly, and I can only assume she’s trying to catch his attention. I dig my palm into my forehead.
“You have the maturity clubbing level of an early twenties woman,” I tease.
She wags her brows. “I have the sex drive of one too. He can call me Mom in the bedroom as I spank him for being naughty.” She claws the air chewing at her straw.
“Why?” I whine my laughter playfully. “The mental image. I can’t erase it.”
She gives me a big, toothy grin. “He won’t call me Mom. I’ll be back.”
She strides off, leaving me alone with the wicked picture of her with a whip and him over her knee. I shake it off in time to experience another pesky feeling of someone watching me, but I don’t acknowledge it. I mean, the place is crawling with people.
Dragging my finger across the rim of my glass, another voice says hello, startling me.
His smile catches me first—crooked, up to no good, but smooth. His eyes are naturally squinty, or at least I think so. Either that or he’s over playing the “Hey, I’m really freaking cool” look with his black leather jacket.
“Hi.” I grin, sitting back.
“I’m Michael.” Without invitation, he sits across from me and places his beer on the table, stretching his hand out for me to shake.
“Riley.” His grip is firm and wet. Completely sweaty as hell. I don’t let my smile falter in disgust as I tuck my hand under the table to wipe the moisture off on my pants.
“You’re way too pretty to be sitting here alone.”
I scan over him, trying to find something about him I don’t like, something I can bitch about, something I can focus on to give me reason to dislike him, but I can’t. There isn’t anything. No pubes poking out from under his shirt. No acne. Nothing. His cheek bones are defined and even his lips are cute with the bottom thicker than the top.
I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m with a friend. She just took off on a prowling hunt.”
“Want to dance?”
I shake my head pulling my drink to my lips.
His eyes squint even more. “Bad night?”
“That obvious?” I ask even though I know the answer.
“You don’t seem happy to be here.”
I scrunch my nose. “My friend dragged me here.”
“You too?” I watch relief relax his shoulders. “My boys told me about this place. They hyped it up all week long.”
“She
didn’t tell me until I got in the car.”
Oh, the unruly smile I just unleashed from him. “My friend doesn’t have a car. I was forced to drive mine. I didn’t know what to wear.”
I know this scene from Deadpool…
“At least you have something to wear. I had nothing. These are all her clothes.” I point to myself.
“My mom bought me this outfit.”
“At least you have a mom. My mother disowned me when she found out her little angel got pregnant.”
He chuckles. “Do you watch a lot of movies?”
I purse my lips. “Straight out of Deadpool. Do you always use it as a way to pick up girls?”
Satisfaction settles his expression. “No, but I’ve always wanted to do it. You just took my virginity.”
I almost spit my drink out. “Glad to be of assistance. I think.”
“So, you have a kid?”
I nod. “Yes. He’s eleven.”
His head flinches back. “You don’t look that old.”
“I was eighteen when I had him.”
“Explains it. And did your mom really disown you?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. “Yep. Couldn’t believe her child was having sex after years and years of preaching how it was the devil’s tango. I was an embarrassment, so out the door I went.”
“Is the father still in the picture?”
I read between the lines. “In my son’s, yes. But not in mine.”
“I—”
“Leave you for one minute and I’m replaced,” April interrupts, toting the gorgeous guy in the red shirt beside her. She points to him. “This is Nick.”
Michael smirks up to him. “I’m Michael and I know this loser.” He looks back to me and tips his head at his friend. “This is Nick.”
I grin up to Nick. “Oh, the friend with no car.”
Nick’s eyes shift between us. “It’s in the shop.”
April scoots in beside me as Nick sits beside his friend. Come to find out, they’re brothers, with Michael being the youngest at a ripe old age of twenty-four and Nick toppling the charts at twenty-nine. Neither look a day over twenty-one. Life has treated their skin as a precious gem. They’re fun to talk with, personalities are laid-back and entertaining.
“Would you ladies like to get out of here and grab something to eat?” Nick asks after about an hour.
I kick April under the table in a vain attempt to telepathically say no. But instead, “Sure,” she chirps.
Well, that worked like a charm. I smile at Michael and pull a shoulder up. “Where at?”
“Choice is yours. Greasy food, deli, or the Italian restaurant around the corner,” he says.
“I prefer the deli,” I answer.
“Greasy food is for hangovers. Italian restaurant is a date. Let’s do the deli,” April agrees.
I convince April to let the guys drive themselves and us follow them. My imagination can always get the best of me if I allow it to, and tonight, I’ve allowed it. As we drive there, I explain my reasoning—just in case. What if they turn out to be serial killers and we’re stuck in their car? What if they break down and need a ride home? What if they kidnap us?
April laughs at me, but I’m serious—people are fucking nuts nowadays.
This place has the best sandwiches. I used to come here for their Tuesday specials but haven’t since I moved out and got my own place. Fresh breads, freshly cut meats, the crispest veggies…it’s delicious.
“What do you do for a living, Nick?” April bats her swoony eyes.
“I’m a physical therapist and a personal trainer,” he answers.
I almost jump out of my seat at my victory of pegging him as a gym rat, but I remain unexpressive.
“Michael?” she asks.
She catches him with a mouth full of drink and he rushes to swallow. “Machine operator. Nothing fancy,” he says dismissingly.
I’m trying to pay attention to the conversation, really I am, but my mind is as far away as possible thinking of nothing in particular. Okay, I might be fantasizing about being snuggled in a warm blanket on the couch watching Deadpool thanks to our little banter earlier. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen it.
Michael’s nice, but I’m not interested. This isn’t doing anything to spark the want to care either. But April is interested. She’s feeding into their every word like they’re serving her sugar on a golden spoon, sprinkled with sexual neediness. She’s the cliché of every tasteless romance movie—flipping her hair, batting her eyes, touching arms, and listening intently. They’re eye-candy. There’s no denying that, but regardless of how many times she’s told me I need a good fucking to get everything off my mind, I’m not interested in the loveless flings.
I’m not ready to be back on the playing field. I want to drown in my depression. Sink in my self-loathing for just a bit longer. It might be dark and lonely down here, but there is some positivity seeded in it—me. I’m learning about me. Finding myself. Everything Riley. She’s always done for everyone else, forgetting herself in the process. The last time I knew myself, I was eighteen with a newborn baby in my arms. In those days, I devoted my life to my son and my boyfriend, and that’s the last time Riley was spotted. I’ve been missing ever since.
“You okay?” Michael places his hand on top of mine snapping me out my thoughts.
I quit pushing around the grains of salt scattered on the table and pull my hand out from under his and into my lap.
As I glance up to him, I almost yelp but instead it comes as a squeaky gasp. My heart stops and my stomach sinks. A hot flash bursts in my gut and spreads outward toward my fingertips. A lump forms in my tight throat.
Hazel eyes are steady on me. With an arm stretched, Trenton watches with an unreadable blank expression as he uses two fingers to turn his cup in place.
My luck…
I swallow my heartbeat and move my view back to Michael. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
I drift back to Trenton, soaking everything about him in a quick peek, before ripping my attention back away from him. I’m glued staring at the water ring my glass has produced in front of me. I’m not looking back. I’m scared to. Petrified of what I might see. I’m still emotionally unstable, and hot stings are threatening my eyes.
I grab my phone from my purse.
Me: Please don’t make a big scene, but I’m going to get out of here and grab a cab.
April: And leave these hotties?
Me: They’re sweet but I’m not interested.
April: Have you seen their muscles?
Me: You can tell me all about how they look naked later. You’ll thank me for leaving.
She stifles a giggle. I knew she would.
April: Do you want me to take you home?
Me: I’ll call a cab. You do feel safe, right?
April: They’re harmless. I was hoping a night out would knock you out of your funk.
Me: Look to your left.
Her mouth falls open and she whips her head back to me. “I didn’t know,” she says out loud.
Both guys, ignorant of our texts, glance from her to me. I fake a smile and spew the first thing that pops in my head. “I just reminded her I need to get my son really early in the morning,” I lie. “I need to get going.”
“I’ll take you home.” Michael begins to pull something from his pocket.
“No!” I rush out. “I’m good.”
Confusion dawns in his expression. “Can I call you sometime?”
“I-um.” I sigh. I’m done pretending. “I’m not ready to do the whole dating thing. Long story. But I had a great time tonight. Thank you for adding to it.” I glance to April as I stand. “Love you. Text me when you get home.”
My main goal is to get away from the restaurant as fast as possible without running. Running requires effort and in these heels, screw that. Plus, with my luck tonight, I’m likely to break an ankle.
The night carries a quietness in the air even when noises envelope around it. The
streets aren’t busy contrasting what the daylight hours present. Normally, the sidewalks are packed with individuals entering and leaving the shops littering the city blocks. The air is crisp, feathering cold kisses across my bare skin…winter is coming.
The road carries cars past me. The street lights illuminate the pavement beneath them with an eerie, evil burn of red before quickly blanketing them with a refreshing and calming glow of green. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch glimpse of my silhouette passing by the large windows of every shop. My heels click against the sidewalk as I make my way farther away from where my heart just stopped.
I chuckle under my breath at how my night has unfolded. Bitchy to heartbroken. Bitchy because I’m heartbroken. And then slapped in the face by the image of the same person who caused my heartbreak. Thank you, karma, for reminding me you’re the bigger bitch.
He looked good even though two weeks rarely offers a vast change. I smile at the memory of his eyes staring back at me and tuck my head, pulling my fallen purse strap back up my shoulder.
April: Heads up. Trenton just left.
April: PS Michael really likes you.
A faint smile tugs the sides of my lips as I read her texts, but only for a moment. I’m still on the same street as the deli and I swiftly pan my surroundings. A small park sits across the street and I cross, making my way to it.
I take my time strolling through it. At this hour it isn’t busy, except for a few couples scattered here and there, sitting on the benches, lost in their own conversations. The trees sway slightly as the breeze tickles their branches causing the soothing ruffling sound of the leaves.
I hail a cab when I get to the other side of the park and again, I’m grateful the cabbie isn’t chatty. Matter of fact, after asking where I am going, he doesn’t speak again. I can’t imagine having to hold conversations with random people throughout the night. How many times would I lie straight through my teeth?
He pulls to the curb in front of my house and I pay him before climbing out and taking a deep breath of fresh air to rid my nose of the stinky tree hanging from his rearview mirror. I make my way to the porch and sit in the rocking chair in the dark enjoying the night sounds. Off in the distance, lightning lights up the clouds, flickering purple and blues into the blackness of the sky.