by S. L. Siwik
I turned towards Brian. “Do you want to hang out with the guys in New York?”
“Do you want to go?” He asked me. I nodded, giving a small smile. Maybe going out was exactly what I needed.
“Then let’s go,” he replied.
Ben gave me the exact address to the club and I programmed it into my GPS before we hung up.
Chapter Three
It was the kind of night where the heat hung in the air, and the mugginess made everyone cranky and uncomfortable. The perspiration drops clung to my forehead and the nape of my neck. I took a napkin out of my purse for Brian handing it to him. When he glanced over and saw me wiping my own brow, he nodded in thanks. I knew he must be as uncomfortable as I was. We stood outside Pyro for twenty more minutes in comfortable silence before my phone rang.
“Where are you?” Ben asked impatiently.
“Brian and I are standing outside the club. We’re waiting in line.”
“Fuck the line. Go up to the bouncer and give him your name. I put you on the list. They’ll let you right in,” he told me.
I glanced uncomfortably at Brian, whose curious eyes questioned me. I peeked up at the twenty people ahead of us in line, biting my lip in nervousness.
“Are you sure? I really don’t want to get jumped tonight by angry people. This day has sucked enough already.”
“A little faith, Annie, please!” Ben’s voice bellowed through the phone. “When you get in find Max at the bar. He’s about to shit a brick waiting for you, and I’m not haulin’ his fat ass to the hospital tonight.” I heard a wailing guitar in the background. “And George owes me fifty ’cause he bet you wouldn’t show up. So, half of that’s yours, cupcake.”
“Why do I get half? You made the bet with George; the money should be all yours,” I replied, plugging my ear, so that I could drown out the sidewalk noise.
“Annie, if a guy’s alone and having sex, he’s really only jerkin’ himself off. She needs to show up in order to have himself a party,” he replied casually.
“How does that have anything to do with-”
He cut me off. “If you didn’t show up, I couldn’t have won the bet. So, since I needed you in order to win, it seems you should also reap the benefits.”
“But how does that have anything to do-”
“Think about it for a while. It’ll come to you,” he told me. I hung up my phone in confusion.
“What was that all about?” Brian asked me, standing at my side.
I shook my head. “Something to do with him masturbating at a party… I think.”
Brian glanced at me strangely, and I sighed, motioning for Brian to follow me as I tossed my phone back into my purse. The only reason I thought this would work at all was because of Ben’s extensive social connections.
I left the line and walked right up to the bouncer. He was a large African American man with tattoos all over his shaved scalp. I swallowed roughly. He simply raised a brow at me.
“Um, my friend told me to leave the line and tell you my name. He said I’m on the list.” Please don’t get me killed tonight, Ben.
“Who’s your friend?” He asked, his voice as scary as his physique. I was pretty sure that his left bicep was larger than my head.
Letting out a shaky breath, I replied, “Ben Hurley.”
He glanced down at the clipboard. “And your name?”
So far so good. “Anne Watson and Brian Aschcroft.”
He nodded curtly and moved aside. “Enjoy yourselves.”
I blinked in surprise then tugged on Brian’s t-shirt to follow me. We walked through the large wrought-iron double doors and into the club. It was a rather intimate place, with a modestly sized stage, the club catering to unsigned bands on the verge of making it. Pyro had a reputation for giving some of the hottest rock bands in history their big break. Strobe lights danced across faces in the crowd as people lost themselves in the music. An intricate laser light show caught my eye on stage in sync with the performing band’s guitar solo. Since Ben told me to look for Max first, I glanced to the large oak bar running the length of the club. I leaned over, yelling to Brian that I found Max, pointing him out at the end of the bar. He stood there rigidly in a blue short-sleeved dress shirt, khaki dress pants, and brown leather loafers. For him, this was dressed down, since he wasn’t wearing a coat and tie. He couldn’t have stuck out more in the crowd of faded tees and ripped jeans if he tried.
“How have you been, Max?” I leaned over kissing his cheek.
“Work is killing me as usual. And now I’m here trying to keep Ben and George out of trouble.” He rolled his eyes. “All I can say is thank God you showed up.”
I chuckled at his words. “They’re a handful tonight?” Max raised his brow giving me a ‘when aren’t they’ look, so I added, “More so than usual?”
He frowned, blowing a fallen strand of his black, glossy hair off his forehead. “Those two are out for trouble tonight. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”
I groaned in annoyance. I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to handle them tonight. But, then I thought that maybe keeping them from getting arrested meant I wouldn’t focus on what happened back at the apartment. Tonight could be a blessing in disguise. Besides, I had Brian and Max to help make sure we all had fun tonight and no arrest warrants were issued.
“Where are our maniacs?” I asked him. Max pointed them out in the front of the club, near the stage.
I nodded, and turned towards Brian. “Do you want to wait here while I get them?”
He leaned in to my ear telling me that he would order us drinks. I nodded and then walked off towards my other friends.
I saw George first, standing next to Ben wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, brown leather loafers, striped dress shirt opened over a white v-neck. He eyed up a blonde in a mini skirt likely deciding if he wanted to bring her home later on. George didn’t date. Ever. He actually prided himself on never being on a date, or as he put it, “Being suckered into paying for sex.”
It didn’t hurt his cause that he looked like a famous actor currently starring on a hit television show about twenty- something year-olds living in New York City. So, for the last few years whenever we went out anywhere, I’d always hear someone ask him, “Are you Kyle Cahill?” Normally, he’d answer yes, especially if it was a woman. It was nearly guaranteed that they’d come home with him, and his apartment was swanky enough that he could pull off the lie.
I touched his back, and he turned towards me, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Annie, you came!” He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. A moment later he muttered, “Shit, now I owe that douchebag fifty bucks.” I giggled knowing that he referred to his bet with Ben. He pulled me back, his hands on my arms. “I’m glad you showed up,” he said warmly and tossed his head in Ben’s direction.
I glanced over to find our friend playing the air guitar. Ben was, by far, the wildest of my friends, and wore a t-shirt of a band no one had ever heard of with a pair of ripped jeans that he owned for as long as I had known him. Ben had a tongue ring and blue streaks through his brown, disheveled, spiky hair. He always had that ‘I just got out of bed from sleeping with your girlfriend all night long’ look about him.
Ben was one of the most unique people I had ever met in my life, but maybe that’s because I had never met a millionaire playboy before him. After attending NYU, Ben then attended NYU Law School and was at the top of his class in his first year. And just like I had attended every single one of Brian’s track meets all four years, I also attended every single one of Ben’s debate competitions.
I always thought that law was a strange career choice for someone as wild as him. He played the guitar and was a talented artist, so I always thought that he would pursue some creative field. It’s not as if he needed money. But, despite his sloppy appearance-God, did I hate those jeans- and normally loose-cannon behavior, he was very gifted at law. He could remember the most obscure laws on the books. I knew because I
’ve helped him study for exams quite a few times in the past six months.
But, his artistic side or his wild side weren’t the only reasons why he was the most unique person in my life. He was an oddity. Despite his fortune and fame, Ben never flounced it. He would rather be at the grungy bars then the five -star restaurants. He took public transportation more often than his limousine. For all the money he had, he spent an exorbitant amount of effort appearing poor.
He was a socialite, coming from a very long line of politicians, lawyers, judges, presidential advisors... His money was as old as the Civil War itself, and his family’s history, just like his own, was checkered. Depending on whom you asked, the Hurleys were either a Godsend or a plague on society. Either way, his family name was an American icon, a legacy. I didn’t care about the fame or the money. Ben was my friend because he was a good person; that was all that mattered to me. Despite our radically different lifestyles, childhoods, and different point of views on nearly everything under the sun, Ben, like me, understood the value of loyalty. Judas’ betrayal is why Jesus died after all.
“Listen to this! Just close your eyes and listen,” Ben instructed. “This song reminds me of tonight.”
I glanced around nervous that I’d be trampled, and Ben seeing my concern placed his hands on my arms to steady me.
“Now listen.” I closed my eyes. “Tell me. Who do these instruments remind you of?”
I listened to a wailing guitar- strong in some parts, softer in others. I realized somehow that the guitar wailed of loss and went back and forth between anger and acceptance.
“Me,” I answered quietly.
“Good. Now who are you reminded of?” he asked again.
As soon as the solo was done, the bass guitar joined in. Its notes were steady and constant, not at all like the still up and down guitar. I realized that my friends were the bass- sources of reason and comfort in my emotional chaos.
“Max and Brian,” I answered.
“Good. Keep going.” Ben’s hands were still on my shoulders keeping me steady in the crowd.
The drums then joined the group, the loud, fast beat threatening to steal the show and take over the bass and guitar. But, it didn’t, quieting down just enough, so that all the instruments worked in harmony, supporting the still chaotic guitar.
“I hear you and George.”
I opened my eyes, understanding what Ben was trying to say. My friends would stand by me through this and help me move on. Ben’s eyes watched mine, and I simply nodded. He smiled, winking at me, and I sighed in acceptance. Sometimes it was difficult to fathom how I wound up so lucky, how I met such a wonderful group of friends. But, as soon as I opened up my mouth to speak, we heard noise from behind us.
“Georgie!” A woman shouted from the crowd, waving her hands frantically, running towards my friend.
He closed the five steps between our distance, coming in close to Ben and me. “Oh, shit. We have a Stage Five clinger coming towards us. This chick won’t give up. I can’t even remember her,” George muttered to us. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading, slight pout on his lips.
I sighed in irritation. “You owe me. Big time.”
He smiled widely with relief. “You’re like an angel sent from above.”
I rolled my eyes before turning toward him. Ben, knowing what I was about to do, took a few steps back. We’ve done this routine so many times, I’ve lost count. I draped my arms over his neck as he dipped his head. Our cheeks pressed together, making it seem more than it really was, while his hands rested on my lower back. I never did this around Ryan; I would never disrespect him in such a manner. But, I was single…for now. So, if I could help my friend out, why not? Besides this chick would just ruin our night. I had been enabling George and his man-whoring ways since we met. It never bothered me, because hugging him felt the equivalent of hugging my brother. There had never been an ounce of sexual tension between us. Ever.
”Georgie?” the woman asked. Her eyes asked the question that her mouth didn’t.
I turned towards her from my position, giving the petite girl a slow once over. I appeared haughty, seeming unimpressed.
“I’m George’s girlfriend. And you are?”
“George?” she asked, her eyes furiously demanding an answer from him.
“This is…Abigail. She and I are old friends from college. She recently broke up with her boyfriend, and it… ignited our passion.”
I had to keep from laughing at the end of that statement. Ignited our passion? Who spoke like that? Ben must have been thinking the same, because I heard him covering up his laughs with coughs. The woman glared furiously between George and me. I didn’t feel bad about what I was doing, because I felt as though I was doing her a favor. Even if she couldn’t see it at the time, George would never be boyfriend material until he wanted to be, which wasn’t happening any time soon. There were still way too many women left in New York City that he hadn’t slept with yet. Every moment she wasted pining over a man who could never be what she wanted was a minute she lost looking for Mr. Right.
“Congratulations.” She spat each syllable at us before she turned and stormed away.
As soon as she was gone, I let go of my friend and heard Ben’s unapologetically loud laughter. When I glanced over, a tear rolled down his cheek. George knew what was so funny as he had the tiniest amount of pink in his cheeks.
“Every time someone uses the phrase ‘ignite our passions’ tonight appropriately, you have to buy the group a round of shots,” Ben said to George.
“What? No way!” George shouted in protest.
“This is the drinking game we’re playing tonight, man. If you’re not game, I could just put the video of this up on Youtube.” Ben shook the cell phone in his hand back and forth.
George glanced between the phone and Ben’s face, deciding if he wanted to call his bluff. It was a bad choice I knew, because Ben never bluffed. He never said or committed to anything that he couldn’t follow through on. I had no doubt that he took video. George sighed in acceptance and nodded. Ben slapped him hard on the back as he slid his other arm around my neck. “Let’s go tell the others.”
We returned to Brian and Max as Ben explained what just happened with the girl and the drinking game of the night. They all laughed, embarrassing George even more, as Brian handed me the Long Island Iced Tea I asked him to order for me. I took out a five dollar bill, handing it to Brian. He shook his head.
“Take it,” I insisted. He shook his head again. “Take it, Brian. You don’t need to buy me drinks.” He continued ignoring me, sipping his Jack and Coke, until finally I tired from having my hand out and slid my money into my jeans pocket. I glared at him to let him know I was annoyed, and his lips curled into a smile. “Thank you,” I leaned over, whispering into his ear. “But, you don’t need to buy me drinks. You work hard for your money too. Keep it. “
“Annie, I bought you one drink, not a house. Relax.” He smirked at me, and as much as I tried I couldn’t stay annoyed. Seeing him smile just made me smile.
“Alright. Next one’s on me.”
We drank, talked, listened to bands play, and I just enjoyed the company of my friends. When my drink was empty, it seemed everyone else’s was too. Ben flagged down the bartender and ordered us another round. I held a five dollar bill out to Ben.
“For the drink.”
Ben shook his head. “I told you on the phone that I’d get you drunk. Your money is no good tonight.”
I raised my brow in insistence, holding the money out firmly for him to take. He slipped the bill out of my fingers, and leaned into my ear. His voice grew husky. “I said…” He paused as though collecting his thoughts, and I waited for the rest of his sentence, my heart picking up the pace in curiosity of what he would say. “that I’m paying tonight.” He leaned back, resting himself against the edge of the bar, taking a sip of his beer. “Now take your money back.” My brows scrunched in confusion. His eyes glanced down quickly at my breas
ts, so I followed his eyes down and turned beet red when I saw the money nestled in my cleavage, tucked beneath my bra. I never even felt his hand near me. Ben took another sip of his beer. “Try and give me that money again, and you’ll find it somewhere far more private next time. I assure you.”