Kiss the Girl

by Tara Sivec

  I didn’t fight my friends on going out tonight because I knew I needed it, and a nice, quiet hole-in-the-wall bar sounded like just the place I wanted to be. Until we got here and I realized it was fucking karaoke night.

  The waitress stops by our table and Cindy orders us a second round of wine. When the waitress rushes off to get our drinks, Cindy cocks her head at me from the other side of the table.

  “How have you been? Really. No more bullshit. You’ve been saying you’re fine every time I’ve talked to you since Sebastian showed up at the boat the other day, but we all know fine doesn’t really mean fine when it comes to a woman,” she states.

  Belle quickly nods her head, sucking down the last few drops of wine from her first glass and then smacking it down on the table.

  “According to an article on Elite Daily, women say we’re fine because we expect our questioner to basically read our minds and know exactly what’s going on. We realize how counterproductive this is as we get more and more frustrated when no one is able to figure out what’s really bothering us.”

  I snap my fingers and point at Belle, keeping my eyes on Cindy.

  “See? I expected you to read my mind, and you didn’t. Which means you suck.”

  The waitress comes back and deposits our three glasses of wine in front of us and then disappears again.

  “Can we get down to business before the next person gets up on stage and ruins one of my favorite songs?” I plead, taking a big gulp of my wine.

  “There really isn’t any business to discuss,” Belle says with a shrug. “You’ve got the calendar up-to-date with all of our bookings, answered the hundred or so emails that we’ve gotten in the last week since you moved, sent us a bunch of research on the whole naughty cocktail-waitress thing, and filed all of our small-business-license paperwork on time. We just told you it was a business meeting so you wouldn’t fight us about going out.”

  I want to glare at them, but I’m feeling entirely too guilty to do anything other than down my entire glass of wine. I never told them I forgot to file the paperwork when I was supposed to, and that it was so late that Ursula, the woman at the court house, stood there lecturing me for twenty minutes. And I thought I was a bitch. That woman could be crowned queen of all bitches, she was so nasty. With her short salt-and-pepper hair in a sophisticated layered style and an expensive-looking black business suit, she looked exactly like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada. She acted like her as well.

  “A stripping business? Is this a joke?”

  “Nope. Definitely not a joke. You’ll see that everything we need is included in the folder. I realize it’s a little late, but I’ve had some personal issues lately and—”

  “Your personal problems are of no concern to me. This town prides itself on being wholesome and dignified. Women who lower themselves to removing their clothing for money are neither of those things.”

  “And you are entitled to your opinion. However, that’s not really up to you, is it? It’s up to the county board members. Several of whom have enjoyed the pleasure of the services we offer and have given us glowing recommendations, which I’m sure will be an asset when the board looks over the paperwork. We also have a two-page, handwritten recommendation from the owner of Charming’s Gentleman’s Club, who is a close, personal friend to the mayor. I’m sure that will also go a long way towards board approval. ”

  “Yes, well. We’ll see about that now, won’t we?”

  Sure, under normal circumstances it would probably be a huge breach of privacy to mention having board members partake in our services, but I wasn’t lying when I told Ursula the Witch that they gave us recommendations for the file. And I might have stretched the truth a little bit saying PJ was close personal friends with the mayor. I think Cindy told me they might have golfed together once a few years ago. However, I was quite proud of myself that I never once told her go fuck herself, even though I screamed it in my head a thousand times during our exchange. Honestly, I still don’t understand why an administrative assistant at the courthouse thought she could speak to me that way and look at me with such disgust.

  “It should be any day now that we get the board approval, right? I don’t understand what’s taking so long. You turned that stuff in almost two weeks ago,” Cindy complains.

  “So, can we discuss this whole Eric thing now?” I quickly ask.

  No one is more shocked than myself when those words come flying out of my mouth, but right now, I’d rather talk about anything other than the paperwork. I feel like an asshole for dropping the ball and not telling the girls.

  “You mean how he made your toes curl with that kiss? I think you need to tell us about it again. Slowly, and with more detail,” Cindy says with a twinkle in her eyes, the paperwork forgotten as she rests her elbows on the table and leans towards me.

  “It was all right.” I shrug, quickly snatching up the new glass of wine our waitress just put down in front of me. Then I grab her arm to stop her from walking away.

  “Keep them coming. Don’t even ask. If you see my glass is empty, just make another one magically appear.”

  She laughs and nods before moving to another table to take an order.

  “It was more than just all right.” Belle laughs. “I could hear you blushing through the phone when you told me.”

  “I did not blush. I never blush! Blushing is for pussies!” I argue, already feeling my cheeks heat with a fucking blush.

  Goddamn it.

  “I told you that one of these days you’d find your Prince Charming,” Cindy smiles.

  “He’s not a Prince Charming. He’s . . .”

  For the first time when talking about Eric, I find it impossible to call him annoying.

  “He stood up for you in front of the douche dick. He made you feel sexy when that asshole stripped you of everything within the first few seconds of seeing him again,” Belle reminds me.

  “Exactly! He stood up for me, he made me feel sexy. I let a man fight my battles for me when I should have been able to stand on my own two feet and give Sebastian hell. That’s not who I am,” I mutter with a shake of my head.

  “Maybe it is,” Cindy says softly. “Maybe you just needed to find the right man. One who doesn’t take your power or your independence away. Once who lifts you up instead of putting you down. One who is proud to stand by your side and fight whatever battle he can, not because he doesn’t think you can do it on your own, but because he can’t handle standing by and doing nothing. Because he truly cares about you.”

  I scoff at her, taking a sip of my wine to ease the tightness in my throat.

  “I feel like him sticking up for you isn’t the real problem right now,” Belle muses. “If it was, you wouldn’t have let him kiss you. And you certainly wouldn’t have made a joke after it ended. You might have lost your nerve when it came to telling Sebastian off, but you’d never do that with Eric. You would have just kicked him in the balls and told him you could fight your own battles. My Spidey senses are tingling.”

  Belle narrows her eyes at me, studying my face.

  “Those aren’t Spidey senses. That’s called being drunk,” I deadpan, wishing she weren’t looking at me so closely.

  “You two have talked the last few days since the kiss, right?” Belle asks.

  “Yes. Well, via text for the most part. He has an office in town for his yacht-rental thing, and he’s had a lot of work to do there. But he stopped by yesterday morning to bring me some mail since I had everything forwarded to his address at the docks.”

  It’s true we’ve been talking pretty much all day, every day. He’s still sending me stupid pictures of Derrick in sweaters, and I went to another goat yoga class and sent him a picture of goat poop.

  Whatever. Don’t judge me. It’s good to keep the guy on his toes so he doesn’t get out of line.

  “And have you talked about the kiss?” Cindy questions.

  Shit. Shit, fuck, damn.

  When he dropped off my m
ail at the boat, I stood there in the kitchen, gripping a cup of coffee in my hands so tightly I thought it would shatter, holding my breath and waiting for him to say something about the kiss. I figured maybe he didn’t want to do it over text, and since we were finally face-to-face again, it would happen. Sadly, it did not. He joked with me about the fact that I’m now in love with goat yoga, and then he left.

  “No. What’s there to talk about? It was just a stupid kiss. And it was done for the sole benefit of getting under Sebastian’s skin, since he was acting like a giant tool,” I tell them with a roll of my eyes.

  “THAT’S IT!” Belle suddenly shouts, pointing her finger at me. “You are such a lying liar pants, you Liar McLiarson! Also, I think you might be right. I’m pretty sure I’m drunk.”

  She sets her wine glass down on the table and takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

  “You know damn well Eric didn’t kiss you for Sebastian’s benefit. Didn’t he whisper something to about not being able to wait any longer before he did it?” she asks.

  “He said he couldn’t put it off any longer and asked me not to kick him in the balls,” I say quietly, chewing nervously on my bottom lip.

  “Which means he’s been wanting to kiss you for a while. Duh!” Belle laughs.

  “Fine! Then why in the hell hasn’t he said anything about it? Or, I don’t know, done it again?!” I shout, then quickly lower my voice and glance around, shooting daggers at a couple of people looking in our direction. “Maybe he thought it was a mistake. Or that it sucked. Maybe he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to embarrass me. Or maybe he realizes I’m more trouble than I’m worth after having to witness that shit show with Sebastian and what it did to me.”

  Cindy reaches across the table and pats my hand.

  “I think you’re not really seeing what’s right in front of you,” she tells me.

  The opening notes to a song that sounds strangely familiar start playing through the bar speakers, and I watch Cindy’s mouth turn up into a huge smile.

  “Or, what’s right behind you,” Cindy adds when whoever is on stage starts singing.

  It’s a deep, raspy voice and it’s horribly off-key. But as soon as I hear the words “kiss the girl,” I know exactly what song it is, and I quickly twist around in my chair, my eyes widening when I see Eric standing in the middle of the stage, holding on to the microphone stand, looking right at me as he sings that damn Disney song about kissing. He sounds absolutely ridiculous as he belts out the song and starts gyrating his hips, but my eyes still start tearing up as I shake my head at him.

  All of a sudden, PJ and Vincent step forward from behind him, chiming in at the “sha-la-la” parts, and I’m full-on crying now, but with laughter. Cindy and Belle get up from their seats and come around the table to stand next to my chair, the three of us clutching our stomachs as these men make complete fools of themselves, with Eric singing all the versus, the other two screeching the backup parts just like the animals in the movie, and all three of them attempting to swing their arms and move their hips in sync with each other and failing miserably.

  Everyone in the bar is laughing and booing, but it’s not done in a mean way or I would be slitting all their throats. It’s good-natured ribbing, and the fact that Eric chose this song reminds me once again just how well he knows me.

  The three idiots on stage finish their act, taking a huge bow as the audience whistles and claps for them. My heart starts beating faster when Eric jumps down off the front of the stage and walks towards me. He’s dressed in jeans and a slim, navy blue wool sweater that’s tapered to all of his lean muscle and looks amazing on him.

  “Full disclosure: The karaoke bar was Eric’s idea. He told us we needed to cheer you up and bring you here for a night of drunken debauchery and fun,” Cindy whispers in my ear, pulling back when Eric gets to me so she can run across the room and launch herself into PJ’s arms.

  I slide off of my high-back bar chair to stand in front of him. As usual, the smell of his cologne makes my arms break out in goose bumps, but this time, I don’t really mind.

  “So, what do you think? Do I have what it takes to make it in Hollywood?” Eric asks, his dimples showing up when he smiles down at me and grabs my hips, pulling me closer.

  “I’d say don’t quit your day job,” I laugh, bringing my hands up between us to rest on his chest.

  “It seems I might have a problem,” Eric says softly, sliding his arms completely around me and tugging me closer until we’re pressed together.

  “You do. That singing voice is atrocious. I could hear dogs howling from miles away. I’m pretty sure I even heard a few glasses shattering back at the bar.”

  I’m making jokes because my heart is threatening to beat right out of my fucking chest. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous around him. Maybe it’s because he’s looking at me so seriously. Maybe it’s because ever since he started singing that stupid song, all I can think about is kissing him again.

  “Nope. It’s a much more serious problem,” he tells me. “You see, ever since I kissed you the other day, I haven’t been able to get that kiss out of my fucking head. I was afraid to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. And I realized today that this was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should have said something. I should have told you that was the hottest fucking kiss I’ve ever had. I should have told you I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple of nights because I can’t stop thinking about your taste, your mouth, and the sexy as fuck noises you made when you kissed me back.”

  Holy shit, is it hot in here, or is it just me?

  “If I tell you the same thing, will you hold it over my head and never let me live it down?” I ask, raising of one eyebrow.

  “Never. But I might make you call me Prince Hot Stuff once more before I kiss you again,” he smirks.

  “That was a mistake. A heat-of-the-moment thing, and one that will never be repeated,” I mutter.

  “Uuugh, fine. You’re such a buzz kill,” he says with a roll of his eyes, tightening his arms around me. “You get door number two then. No take backs.”

  “What are you, twelve?” I laugh.

  “I will put us both out of our misery with a kiss that will knock this hot-as-hell dress right off your sexy body, but you have to do something for me first.”

  “If it involves naked wrestling, naked pillow fights, or anything naked involving Jell-O, I’ll pass.”

  He shakes his head at me as he drops his arms from around my waist and moves them up to my shoulders, turning me around to face the stage. He presses himself against my back and dips his head down to my ear, the warmth of his breath making my whole body tingle, until he opens his mouth again.

  “I’ll kiss you again as soon as you get up there and sing a song.”

  Chapter 12: Fucking Perfect

  “How do you even know I can sing? I could get up there and sound like a dying cat. Like Derrick Alfredo dying a slow, painful death. No one wants to hear that,” I protest, trying to dig my feet into the wooden bar floor as Eric pushes me towards the stage with his hands still on my shoulders.

  “Our boats butt up against one another, and sound carries over the water when you have all the windows open,” he reminds me.

  Which does nothing but freak me out all over again that he heard everything Belle and Cindy and I talked about during my drunken-confession night. I mean, he pretty much saw some of what my life was like with Sebastian on the dock the other day, but not the full, ugly truth. At least he isn’t sending me self-confidence articles like Cindy and Belle, so maybe he doesn’t know everything. And sure, he’s pretty quick with the compliments, but he’s not overdoing it or making me stand in front of a mirror and go down a list of things I like about myself, so there’s that.

  “You’ve also spent the last few days loudly playing and singing along to angry, Alanis Morissette music. Try and pick something a little less rage-y tonight,” he chuckles a
s he gently pushes me away from him. I begrudgingly go up the steps on the side of the stage.

  Fine, so I can sing. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve just never done it in front of anyone before, aside from my dad and sisters when my dad got us a karaoke machine one year for Christmas. I like to keep my singing to the shower and the occasional screaming at the top of my lungs when I’m pissed off.

  I could have easily said no to Eric’s request. Shown him I didn’t give a shit if he gave me another kiss or not—but damn it, I want another kiss. I want to see if it’s as amazing as the first one, or if I just imagined all the sparks and the heat between us. Plus, I’m not usually one to turn down a dare, and even though he didn’t come right out and say it, it seemed implied that he’s daring me to do this shit.

  Pushing back my nerves, I watch Eric take a seat at a table right in front of the stage with Cindy, Belle, Vincent, and PJ, and I take a deep breath and walk over to the karaoke guy. He hands me the thick white binder filled with song titles, and I flip through the pages until I my eyes gravitate to a song in the middle of a page, and I run through the lyrics in my head.

  Shit. This song might be a little too personal and deep.

  “‘Better Man’ by Pearl Jam? Nice,” the guy manning the machine says, snatching the book back out of my hand and tossing it onto a table next to all of his equipment. He starts punching a few buttons on his laptop and glances over at me.

  “You know how this works, right? The screen on the stool in front of the mic will show the words, and they’ll go from white to blue when you need to sing them,” he instructs.