by Morse, Jody
His lips lifted into a smile. “Thanks. Steve Ward is pretty much my idol. It’s been a lot of fun and even more than that, I just feel like I’m really doing something for the greater good, you know? Helping people find the right match for them isn’t easy. It’s actually sort of frustrating sometimes, but when I see a relationship work out, it all seems worth it.”
“That’s awesome. How do you go about finding someone’s perfect match?” Skylar asked, sounding intrigued.
As Finn began to explain his entire matchmaking process to her, I began to zone out and looked around the room. My eyes caught on someone gazing at me with dark brown eyes from across the bar, and I nearly choked on my Tequila Sunrise. Shit.
It would be just my fucking luck that Jake fucking Palmer would be only feet away from me. Not only that, but he was gazing in my direction and his arm was draped around the waist of his model girlfriend. All I could seem to focus on was the fact that, for the first time since he’d left me, the two of us were in the same fucking room as one another. Kill me.
A wave of panic washed over me and I took a huge gulp of my drink. What if he came over to me? What if he called me out on all of the text messages I’d sent him since we’d broken up? Or, even worse, what if his girlfriend came over and called me out on it? Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.
I had a mental battle with myself on what to do. Every ounce of my being wanted to pay my tab and get the hell out of there, but I knew that would make me look weak and pathetic. I was supposed to be rebuilding my image and proving that I was just fine without him. Strong, fierce fighters didn’t just bolt any time they had a confrontation with their ex-boyfriend—especially not when he was with his new girlfriend.
So, the wise part of me won out. Whether I wanted to or not, I needed to stay at the bar, at least for a little while longer—just long enough to make it look like my exit had nothing to do with seeing him. In the meantime, I needed to give off the impression that he was the least of my current worries and that I was really having fun with my friends.
Ugh. I wasn’t sure how I could make it seem like I was enjoying myself when my biggest focus was on not trying not to puke everywhere. Just saying.
I knew that the only way I was going to get through this was with a lot more alcohol. I walked over to the bar and ordered a rum and Coke.
In case you’re wondering, I knew I was mixing different types of alcohol. That was exactly what I intended to do. I knew the hangover was going to suck more the next day, but I couldn’t focus too much on the future; I needed to focus on the here and now. And right now, I needed the strongest, quickest buzz possible, which meant rum, tequila, vodka, whiskey, and gin were all on the menu for tonight. The drunker I was able to get, the better.
“Wow, so can you tell me who your clients are?” Skylar was asking Finn as I sat back down with my drink in hand.
He shook his head. “Sorry. I wish I could, but they all have non-disclosure agreements,” he explained.
“Oh, you just wait, Finn. When you’re all good and drunk, I’m going to ask you that question again and next time you’ll open up to me,” she said with a wink.
A horrified expression crossed his face. “You wouldn’t dare, Sky!”
“Try me.” She shot him a devilish grin.
“Remind me not to get drunk when I’m around you,” he replied with a laugh. Glancing over at me, he raised his eyebrows. “Are you okay, Vi? You’re being awfully quiet.”
“I’m okay.” I paused. One look at his face told me he didn’t believe me and that he wasn’t going to let it drop so easily without an explanation, so I blurted, “Don’t look now, but Jake is in the corner over there with his new girlfriend.”
Guess what both of my brilliant friends decided to do at the same time? They both turned their heads in the direction I’d motioned to at a moment when Jake was, of course, looking our way. Go freaking figure.
Fuck my life.
“Way to make it obvious, guys,” I muttered, taking a huge gulp of my drink and darting my eyes away, hoping that it would somehow make it seem less obvious, even though we’d basically been caught red-handed talking about him. Ugh.
“She’s so not pretty,” Skylar said, glancing over at me. “You know that, right?”
“I don’t think she’s that bad.” I shrugged.
“From a straight guy’s perspective, I can honestly say Skylar’s right,” Finn told me reassuringly. “Homeboy really downgraded.”
“Okay, you guys, but it’s not all about looks,” I reminded them. “Clearly, she must have something that attracts him to her.”
“Well, it’s certainly not her boobs, because she looks pretty damn flat-chested, if you ask me,” Skylar noted. Then she added with a shrug, “Maybe he’ll just fuck anything with a hole.”
I nearly choked on my Rum and Coke. I couldn’t believe that we were having this discussion about my ex-boyfriend—the guy who I’d, at one point, believed I would spend the rest of my life with.
It was crazy how much your life could change in just a year. Shit, it was crazy how much your life could change in a week, considering I’d burned those songs I’d thought would help me win him back.
“Trust me, Vi. Eventually, he’s going to wake up and realize what he lost,” Finn told me quietly.
“It’s okay. I’m actually over it. I’m over him,” I said firmly, paying close attention to how it felt to say those words. Normally, when I experimented with how it felt and sounded to say that I was over him out loud, I didn’t even come close to believing myself. But for the first time ever, I had to admit that I sounded pretty damn convincing. Maybe I really was over it.
“Well, that’s good,” Skylar commented. “If we’re being completely honest, I don’t think he’s that cute. I think you can do better.”
“Are you sure you’re really over him?” Finn studied my face questioningly.
This was part of what set my friendships with the two of them apart from one another. Skylar had been gone for so long that she hadn’t gotten to witness firsthand just how in love I’d been with Jake. She hadn’t seen the two of us together—aside from in the tabloids—or the way he’d swept me off my feet like I was some sort of princess in the beginning. And she definitely had no idea how broken I’d been when it all came crashing down around me.
Finn had been there in the background the entire time, watching it all go down. So, of course it was going to be more difficult for me to convince him that I was really over it.
“Yeah, well it’s clear that he’s already moved on,” I said. “I think it’s about time that I do the same. But I do feel over it right now.”
He nodded, but I could tell from the look in his green eyes that he wasn’t at all convinced.
“I just want to enjoy myself,” I told them. “Do you guys want to do shots with me?”
“I’m down,” Skylar agreed with a grin.
“I think I’m going to skip this one out,” Finn said.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Party pooper.”
“Well, maybe I would do shots if someone didn’t threaten to try to get details about my business out of me while I was drunk,” he replied with a laugh. “But I’ll watch you two get drunk. Someone needs to make sure you get home safely, anyway.”
And so our crazy night of drinking began.
Chapter 14
An hour later, Skylar was dancing with some hot Latin guy in a corner of the room and I was accepting a drink from a guy who’d offered to buy me one. He wasn’t really my type, but I needed more booze and if he was willing to foot the bill, why the hell not? Sorry, not sorry.
I glanced over at him. He looked familiar to me with his large, parrot-like nose and his longish blonde hair and five o’clock shadow. And then the reason I recognized him hit me.
“I know. You’re Owen Wilson!” I blurted.
He let out a little laugh. “No, I’m not Owen Wilson. I do get that a lot, though. My name’s Christian. What’
s yours?”
I didn’t answer him, because I was too focused on my next question. “Christian, are you a Christian?”
His eyes widened a little at my question. “I don’t go to church, but I believe in God,” he replied with a shrug. “I guess that makes me a Christian.”
“What a coincidence. My ex-boyfriend thought he was a God.” I thought about it for a moment and then added, “Well, I guess he might be God of the toilet or sewage or something, because he is a shithead.” I laughed at my own joke, snorting a little.
I was a freaking riot tonight. If this whole music career thing didn’t pan out, maybe I could go into stand-up comedy. I was pretty confident that with a few drinks in me, I had what it took to be the next Amy Schumer.
Christian grew silent for a long moment.
What did I say wrong? I had no clue. Come to think of it, I had no clue about anything… except for the fact that the room was beginning to spin around me, almost like I was on a Tilt-a-Whirl. What the fuck?
“So, I didn’t catch your name,” he finally said.
“Really? You don’t know it already?” I stared at him with wide eyes. Did he live under a pop music rock or something? I was Viola freaking Pierce. Everyone knew my name. (It was just a fact).
“Well, you didn’t tell me it. Do I look like I’m a psychic or something?” he joked.
I laughed. “You’re funny! Maybe you are a psychic. I don’t know.” I paused for a moment. “Are you related to that Long Island Medium lady? You actually look like her. You’re both blonde. Though I think hers may come from a bottle. But you have the same eyes,” I noted, staring into his brown eyes. “You know, come to think of it, you have the same exact eyes as Jake, too.”
“Jake?” His eyebrows rose in question.
“Jake Palmer… God of the sewage or the toilets or whatever,” I explained disgustedly.
Owen Wilson/Long Island Medium Lookalike whose name I had already completely forgotten just stared at me with a dumbfounded, blank expression on his face. “I see. Hey, do you want to dance?”
“Sure. I like dancing. I’m like a dancing queen,” I said, tilting my head back with in laughter, as I followed him out onto the dance floor. “I especially like Dirty Dancing. Hey, is Patrick Swayze your dad? You sort of resemble him.”
Owen Wilson/Long Island Medium/Patrick Swayze Lookalike laughed as we began to dance. “You seem to think I look like everyone.”
“No, not everyone. You don’t look like Colton King,” I said, slurring a little. “Colton King is a sexy man beast.” Which you are not.
Crap. I wasn’t sure if I said that part aloud or not.
“Colton King? I heard he’s gay,” the guy said.
I laughed out loud. “Where did you hear that crock of shit?”
He shrugged. “It’s just one of those well known facts. Kind of like how everyone knew Ricky Martin was flamin’ long before he came out of the closet.”
“I can tell you for a fact that Colton King isn’t gay. I hooked up with him. Yup, that’s right. Me and Colton King got it on,” I slurred proudly, grinning sheepishly and doing a little happy dance. Yeah, in my drunken state, I totally thought I was the coolest.
He laughed. “I think we should probably cut you off soon. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”
“No, it’s true,” I insisted, tightening my grip on my martini glass in defense. “Colton King and I had sex.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.” He smiled down at me and added, “I’ll let you call me Colton King if you let me take you home later.”
I shot him a look of disgust. At that moment, I just happened to glance up and spot a pair of familiar light blue eyes gazing in my direction from across the room.
“Look, there he is now,” I slurred, peeling myself away from Owen Wilson/Long Island Medium/Patrick Swayze/Not Colton King Guy. “Thanks for the drink.”
Walking away from him, I headed straight for Colton. I straightened out my shoulders and kept my head held high, in my best attempt to strut my shit.
“Colton! What are you doing here?” I said when I approached him. “Wait, you are Colton, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his possible imposter.
“You’ve had so much to drink, you’ve forgotten who I am?” He stared back at me amusedly.
“It’s just that I’ve never seen you at the Wild Frog before, but I guess it makes sense that you’d be here. You like frogs. You want to write a song about Kermit.” I snorted. “Hey, why is it even called the Wild Frog, anyway? There are no wild frogs here. I wonder if they keep them in a back room or something.” My eyes darted around the room in search of a tank or aquarium that I envisioned containing the type of brightly colored frogs you would find in the rain forest.
A small smile touched his lips. “How much have you had to drink, Viola?”
“I’ve only had five drinks… or maybe six or seven. Who really keeps track of stuff like that, anyway?” I said with the wave of a hand.
His eyes scanned the bar. “Who did you come here with?”
“Finn, but he’s not drinking ‘cause he’s a party pooper,” I replied sadly. “Skylar’s also here dancing with some hot guy.” A realization hit me then. “Actually, I wonder if he’s Ricky Martin! He looked like Ricky Martin and then that Owen Wilson guy was talking about Ricky Martin.”
“What Owen Wilson guy?” Colton’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Oh, that guy over there,” I said, motioning over my shoulder. “He looked like Owen Wilson, but then he said he wasn’t Owen Wilson. But he never denied that he might be related to that lady on Long Island Medium or Patrick Swayze, so I’m pretty sure he must be.”
“You’re not even making any sense. I think we should get you home.” He glanced around. “We should probably bring Skylar with us.”
I shook my head. “No, let her stay. Finn is watching her. And she’s livin’ la vida loca!”
“Well, I’m going to at least check with her first. Can you wait for me right here?”
I nodded.
He didn’t look too convinced. “Are you sure? You won’t go anywhere?”
“I promise not to go anywhere. And I won’t talk to any strangers who might abduct me. I pinkie swear.” I held out my finger.
He locked fingers with me before heading off in Skylar’s direction. I stared at his ass as he went. God, I could just stare at that ass all day long.
Yeah, right. We didn’t even see each other enough for me to stare at his ass all day.
I realized that there was a way that I could stare at it all day if I wanted to. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and opened the camera. I zoomed in on his ass and snapped a picture of it. I thought for a few minutes about who would appreciate a picture of his fine ass just as much as I would.
Opening a new message, I attached the picture and texted: Guess who these sweet cheeks belong to? Hint: his name rhymes with Molten Ring!
I laughed aloud at my little joke—if you could even call it a joke—and then hit ‘Send’.
A moment later, Natalie’s text popped up on the screen. WTF? Did you just send me a picture of Colton King’s ass? And are you drunk?
I texted back: Guilty on both counts.
R U planning to sleep with him again tonight?
Before I had the chance to answer her, Colton was heading back in my direction. Since I didn’t want him to know that I’d just sent someone a picture of his ass, I quickly stuffed the phone back inside my purse.
“She said she wants to go home with that guy,” he explained to me, motioning over his shoulder at Skylar. “The thing is… she actually seems like she’s completely sober, not to mention of age to make her own decisions. Who am I to stop her?”
He would’ve made the worst human breathalyzer ever, because Skylar was so not sober, but whatevs.
“She bangs! She bangs. Err, she will bang.” I giggled. “Don’t you love my Ricky Martin references? I wonder if he’d like them. May
be I should go tell him.”
Colton laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but he’s not Ricky Martin. Not even close. Come on, tiger, let’s get you home.” He wrapped an arm around my waist as he guided me toward the door. I felt myself stumble a little, but having his arm around me prevented me from falling flat on my face.
“I’m so glad I got rid of those bad luck shoes,” I commented. “I would have fallen right now.”
“Bad luck shoes?” He raised an eyebrow.
“These shoes I threw away. They were cursed, I’m telling you. Cursed,” I slurred.
“You’re so far past the point of human comprehension, it’s not even funny.” Colton simply shook his head in amusement as we stepped out into the warm night.
I realized that I hadn’t said bye to Finn, but then I decided that I would just text him later. I turned to Colton. “Where’s your limo?”
His lips tilted into a small smile. “What makes you think I brought a limo tonight?”
I shrugged. “I just assumed.”
“Well, you assumed wrong. I drove myself. I’m parked right over here.” He led me to a sporty little red thing that was parked at the outer edge of the parking lot.
When we approached it, he unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side, letting me in.
I climbed in. I didn’t even bother to tuck my dress underneath me. I didn’t even care if my shit was hanging out. It wasn’t anything that Colton hadn’t already seen. Been there, done that.
As he slid into the driver’s side a moment later and pulled out of the parking space and onto the street, his eyes darted over at mine. “What were you thinking tonight, Viola?”
“Well, I was thinking that guy looked like Owen Wilson. Then, when he asked if he could buy me a drink, I was thinking that if he wanted to buy me a drink, I should just let him buy me one, because my career is halfway gone and I might be broke soon—” I started to explain, but he cut me off.
“No, I wasn’t asking what you were literally thinking. What I meant was why did you get so wasted tonight?”
“Oh! That’s an easy answer,” I told him.