I tip my head to her, silently conceding to her words.
Yes, you did.
Bryan pushes me forward from behind, past the entryway and into the bar. Well wishes and “Happy Birthday’s” come at me from all directions as I make my way through the crowd. Balloons and streamers hang in every corner, adding bright color to what is usually a dimly lit and stark place. The garage door windows start to rise, opening up an entire wall and allowing the slightly cooler Miami winter air to breeze inside. I hadn’t even notice they were closed when Bryan and I walked passed them a few minutes ago.
We are at one of my favorite spots in South Beach. For everything that Miami bars are known for—the music, fancy drinks, hot waitresses—this place was the opposite. The floorboards squeaked with every step, shoes usually sticking to the floor—unless they’re already crunching against grains of sand that blew in from the beach across the street. There’s no DJ, which is almost a sin in Miami, and barely a dance floor. No drink comes with a fruit garnish, as the drink choices here are very simple. The décor even more so. Wooden tables and chairs are scattered around, two neon signs that are usually the only burst of color when turned on. A lit up palm tree and a martini glass with the word cocktails written above. Ironically, this bar doesn’t even serve anything in martini glasses. The sound system regularly plays the Beach Boys and the bar is never full.
Except for tonight.
It doesn’t take many to fill this small room but knowing all these people are here for me still seems unbelievable. The bartender, Ray, catches my attention before flipping the cap off a bottle of beer and sending it over. I raise the bottle in thanks before taking a sip.
“Happy birthday, you old fuck,” Bryan wraps an arm around my neck, pulling me downwards and punches me in the gut in a few times. Eddy and Cal both take this opportunity to assault my back and ribs with their own show of love and affection.
Fighting them off, I stand straight and give Bryan a playful shove. “Your birthday was four months ago. Making you older than me,” I tell him.
He waves off my point, as usual, and turns to order himself a drink while Eddy and Cal resume drinking the beers they already had while waiting for us to arrive. Cal raises his bottle in cheers before downing the rest of his drink. Cal is my assistant—Intern, really—while he finishes up his own degree. Currently attending the same program I was in, he’s been working for me for the entirety of his final year, helping me out with many of my local shoots, though I’m seriously considering bringing him with me on one of my future traveling trips. He may still only be a student, but he’s got a real eye for details in pictures and I know I wouldn’t be able to get a lot of my own stuff done nearly as fast and efficiently as I do without his help. I was lucky to have found him and lucky he’s become a good friend.
Speaking of good friends, my eyes scout the room, in search of the honeycomb-haired magician who was able to plan all this without me having a clue. I find her on the other side of the bar standing with a group of her own friends she’s invited. A few are from her old college classes, some are co-workers from her law firm. I have yet to meet them all in person but I recognize most of them from their Facebook profiles when she insisted I help her “research” them right after she was hired. I also see Holly, Eddy’s fiancé.
I start to make my way over, quickly giving her a once over before she notices. It’s a habit I’ve picked up over the years, taking her all in before she has a chance to see me do it. It started long ago at that frat party and I guess it just never stopped. A habit I never broke. Tonight, she’s wearing a short sequined mini skirt that hugs her hips perfectly and shows off her incredibly long, toned, tanned legs. A black tank with thin straps shows off her delicate collar bone and the thin gold chain I gave her as gift for passing the bar exam. Her long hair falls loose along her back in large wavy curls—just the way I like it. The bright neon lights from the hanging palm tree reflect over the gold hoops in her ears.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees me approaching and her full lips curl into a fuller smile.
“So? Surprised?” she asks, her eyes shining with bright amusement.
I raise my hands up in defeat.
“You usually aren’t able to get one up on me. Who helped you pull this off?” I ask, edging closer. She makes a show of sealing her lips together, letting me know she’s not going to divulge any of her secrets.
“She did it on her own, man. Only told us when and where,” Bryan steps in out of nowhere. He holds out his beer and we clink the heads of our bottles together. “One hell of a best friend you got there. After me, of course,” he says, taking a sip.
I bark out a small laugh, looking back at her. “That I do,” I agree.
“You know how I feel about birthdays,” Leah says. “It’s like everyone’s own personal New Year’s. A new start for a new year,” she nods, emphasizing her point. “So, old man, got any older and wiser resolutions?” she teases, winking and sipping from her own drink. Her glass is nearly half empty and I hope she hasn’t already had too many of whatever it is she’s drinking. She’s a bit of a lightweight and the night’s only just begun.
“I’ll let you know when I think of one,” I answer.
“Until you do,” she begins, “let’s drink and ring in your new year with a fan-fucking-tastic night!” She smiles widely, raising her glass out in front of her to our small crowd. “To Shane, worldly photographer, connoisseur of lingerie models, ongoing foosball champion, and—” her eyes then fall on me, “my best friend.”
Everyone raises their drinks and smiles at me. “Fuck you,” they all call out together.
I laugh, dropping my head back before I take a good swig from my beer. I can feel everyone’s eyes watching me as they smile and laugh with me. But while I seem to be the focus of everyone’s attention, mine is solely fixed on Leah.
TWO HOURS LATER, I’m on my way to a respectable state of drunkenness. Not surprising when the minute your drink is empty, another is placed directly in front of you. Currently sitting around a table with the boys, our conversation has easily fallen into one of two categories—sports and girls. While Cal runs off some stats about this year’s upcoming baseball season, Bryan’s contribution leads our attention to the girls outside the bar walking down the street.
“God, I love this city. Everywhere you turn, no matter what time it is or what month, there are chicks walking around in bikini tops and miniskirts,” his eyes following a group of girls on the sidewalk. “What other place has that?” he asks, shaking his head.
“Brazil, Australia,” Eddy begins to list. “If we’re talking nationally, California—”
I laugh knowing Eddy could go on listing places all night. “We get it Eddy,” I say before turning back towards Bryan. “Keep staring just like that. I’m sure Kendall will appreciate it,” I goad him.
Bryan rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away from the street. “That’s over.”
“Again?” we all ask in unison.
Bryan twitches his brows once before taking a sip from his beer.
Bryan and Kendall are an anomaly to us all. The last two years of school they were on and off more than a bedside lamp. And they continue to be that way still to this day. For years they’ve been playing the same game and I can’t wrap my head around why. I know he wants her more than any other, but it’s like the minute he has her, he doesn’t know what to do. Half of him always seems ecstatic while the other seems…terrified. When Kendall is around, he loses all focus on anything or anyone else. Then something always inevitably happens and days later, he’s looking to fill his time and energy with other…distractions. And many of them. I don’t believe Kendall stays at home crying over him either, but I know she doesn’t act out the way he does. He’ll never admit it, but I know he feels like shit every time he does it. Even shittier when he hears she’s found out about it. So how they both agree to try again and again, I have no idea.
“You just don’t appreciate what this c
ity has to offer as much anymore. You’ve grown up in it and you see it up close every day for a living,” Bryan answers, looking to me then back outside to the parade of girls walking by.
“Interesting,” Eddy shakes his head as he thinks about it. “I suppose it could be possible to become immunized.”
I laugh at the absurdity of what was just said. I appreciate the female form probably more than any of these guys here. In part because I’m a twenty-six-year-old man and like every man, the female body is my kryptonite. But also because appreciating it is a pretty large aspect of my job.
Unlike what my father believed would happen, I have managed to make a small name for myself in the photography world. While in college, I had the opportunity to intern for Stu Schultz and that unquestionably added to my credibility. Stu’s portfolio was as impressive as his client list. He took me under his wing and taught me it wasn’t who or what you were taking pictures of but how you captured it that made the picture. Stu may have been known for the hundreds of magazine photo spreads he shot, but like me, his true passion was in the photos no one else ever saw. The ones he prized the most. The ones that were my favorite too. Similar to my own true passion. Photos of everyday people doing mundane everyday tasks but that showed beauty in what real life was like.
“Real life always wins out,” he once told me.
But he also taught me other aspects of becoming a successful photographer. The ones that couldn’t be ignored, ones that had nothing to do with taking pictures. Networking, meeting the right people, taking the right jobs were all important factors for a beginner. He taught me that sometimes you have to take the boring pictures in order to have the opportunity to take the great ones. I think that’s why I want to be a good mentor to Cal. Stu taught me so much; I want to be able to pass some of that along, even if I’m still considered a newbie in the industry.
But some of the guys, especially Bryan, can’t seem to understand why I wouldn’t want to do anything but bikini and lingerie shoots.
“That’s life’s true beauty!” Bryan argues constantly.
It’s true, it can be fun and a few times, my encounters with some of the models have gone beyond professional. I guess you could call it a perk to the job. But I really only do those shoots for the steady pay check. I need that money to live until the seldom and rare opportunities at the Discovery Channel or National Geographic magazine come along. Because that’s my real passion. Nature, culture, seeing the unseen. It just so happens that until those moments come, I spend my time with the women of Victoria’s Secret. I suppose I can’t really complain.
“Not true,” I answer, thinking how best to explain this in terms Bryan would understand. “Girls in underwear are like Lucky Charms. Yes, they’re delicious and colorful and sometimes, the perfect evening snack. But every now and again I need something a little different to sustain my hunger.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bryan says, disbelievingly. “You have girls with bras barely covering their nipples around you all day. If it were me, I’d be happy eating the same cereal every day for the rest of my life.”
“It’s a wonder why Kendall continues to take you back,” Eddy marvels.
“Hey, I take her back just as much,” he argues, but none of us believe him. “And not everyone is looking to put a ring on it, okay?” Bryan fights back. “Don’t be resentful that I still get to experience what Mother Nature has placed down before me.”
“And you experience Mother Nature before or after Kendall declines your drunken calls?” I ask, smirking.
Bryan answers by giving me the finger.
But not all of us have relationship problems. Several months ago, Eddy asked Holly to marry him. They met through Leah right after she had started working at her new law firm. Holly is a paralegal there and was the first to come and welcome her. Insta-friendship. She brought Holly out with us all one night and the minute Eddy’s eyes fell on Holly, he was a goner. I saw it immediately. But Eddy’s…shy, to put it mildly. He hardly spoke to her the entire night. Once Leah and Holly left, it seemed like Eddy had just released his first exhale of the evening. I told him he should have talked to her, struck up a conversation. He immediately shook his head. Too nervous and lacking experience with women, Eddy’s confidence level in the art of picking up is about as high as it would be if someone stuck him in as pitcher in game seven of the World Series. College chicks don’t appreciate the smart ones during those years. They come around years later after they realize the guys in bands who drink too much and party too hard aren’t worth the devotion they give them. Not long from now, all those girls Eddy ever tried to speak to will wonder about him. I guarantee it.
So the next time a few of us hung out, I pulled Leah away from the table, leaving Eddy and Holly alone. I gave Eddy a look, telling him this was his chance, talk to her. Go pitch that ninth inning! Leah asked why I was keeping her away from the table when I cocked my head to the side to let her see what was happening behind her. Eddy had slowly made his way over to Holly’s side of the table, sitting beside her instead of away from her. And they were talking. For a brief moment, Holly’s head even fell back in laughter. I almost choked on my own drink when I saw the surprised look on Eddy’s face that he had made a girl laugh like that.
“So you’re a matchmaker now?” Leah asked, smiling. “Why don’t you work that magic and find me someone?”
I shook my head. “Because your taste in men is terrible and I don’t know any douchebags to set you up with.”
“Then maybe you need to find me someone more like you,” she teased.
I stared at her for a moment, unsure how to react at the thought. It never bothered me that she dated all those idiots because I knew nothing serious would ever come out of it. She was too smart to let it ever go too far. But what if one day she did meet someone more like me? Someone I would have to share her with. The thought stuck to my ribs like a pound of grease.
Leah kicked my leg and jerked her head behind her. “Look at them,” she said.
We watched Holly and Eddy continue to laugh and talk for a few more minutes before finding empty stools at the bar and staying there for the rest of the night. That evening two years ago, Eddy asked Holly for her number, and then, a little over a year ago, he asked her for a whole lot more when he got down on one knee with a ring.
A warm arm wraps around my shoulder, surprising me back to the present. Pretty pink nail polish appears in front of me holding a shot glass with amber liquid and a wedge of lemon on top.
Tequila. Leah’s favorite poison.
I take the shot glass from her as she takes a seat next to me. Her face is glowing slightly from sweat. She’s been dancing for the last forty-five minutes to a mix of songs I’ve never heard play here before. Top forty songs.
“Where did you find lemons in this place?” I ask, taking the shot from her hand.
She winks. “I brought my own.”
She takes her shot glass and raises it up to my face, looking down at my own, instructing me to do the same.
“Happy Birthday,” she says loud enough for only me to hear. I watch as the shot glass rests on her lips while her head falls back, tequila slowly disappearing. I do the same, letting it fill my mouth and go down my throat smoothly. Leah’s eyes squint as she swallows, immediately reaching for the lemon wedge and sucking on it vigorously.
I laugh, offering her mine as well which she takes.
I don’t understand why she keeps with the tequila shots when it nearly brings tears to her eyes every time.
“So, what were we talking about?” she asks the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Just how unnatural it is Shane would rather be knee deep in the Antelope Canyons than a Victoria’s Secret model these days,” Bryan says.
“How eloquent,” Holly, who has just joined the table, says.
She takes a seat next to Eddy, kissing him on the cheek. The minute she sits down, you can physically see Eddy’s confidence r
ise. He sits taller, lets his own version of a smirk appear on his face. Give him another few years, he’ll be puffing out his shoulders and banging his fists against his chest.
I turn to face Bryan, once again ready to argue my point when Leah speaks up first.
“Can’t eat Lucky Charms all the time,” she says, stealing a sip from my beer.
I immediately laugh and plant a big kiss on her cheek. This is why I love this girl. “Hear that, boys? She gets it!”
Leah starts to laugh, confused. I’m grinning large while the rest of the guys are groaning.
“It’s fascinating how well you two know each other,” Eddy says, his eyes moving back and forth from me to Leah.
“Why fascinating?” Leah asks.
“Finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences?” Bryan says. “It’s like you two are the married couple. Not them,” he says, tilting his head in Eddy and Holly’s direction.
“Maybe we’re just two people who understand each other. One and the same,” Leah argues, raising a brow.
Bryan snorts.
“What?” Leah sits back in her chair, facing Bryan. “Two people can’t know each other enough to—”
“Two people? Yes. A guy and a girl? No.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she shakes her head. “There are lots of people out there who are of the opposite sex and understand each other the way we do.”
Bryan leans in. “Those people understand each other like that because they’re usually also fucking each other.”
Leah blinks, her mouth clamping shut.
“You two,” he points his fingers between us, “Eddy’s right. You two are fascinating,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair. “All that time you two spend together? The way you understand each other,” he taunts Leah with her own words. “And not once have you two even banged? Just for the hell of it?” He looks back and forth between us. “Fascinating,” he repeats.
I glare at Bryan, shooting daggers in his direction. I feel the table watching us, looking for a reaction from either of us. They’re interested in our answer. It’s obvious this has been a topic of discussion between them before. One they’ve had without me or Comb around. A group dissection of how it’s possible Leah and I have never crossed that line before. They’re all waiting for one of us to say something, do something.
Everything Unexpected Page 3