The Two-Night One-Night Stand

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “Another drink, ladies?” The bartender is fantastic. We both nod and our glasses are refilled right away.

  “So now can I get some actual details?” Jayne takes a big exaggerated sip of her wine and sighs. “How is Dr. Dirty’s, ya know, um… stethoscope. Is it a big one?”

  “Oh no, three glasses of wine may have gotten me to spill, but they’re not going to get you details.”

  “Bartender!” Jayne calls, and the sexy gray-haired guy behind the bar returns to us. “Two shots of Fireball, please.”

  “I’m still not giving you details.” Two glasses of cinnamon whisky are placed in front of us.

  “We’ll see.” Jayne smirks and lifts her shot glass, encouraging me to do the same.

  “Cheers.” We clink. We gulp.

  I bang my hand on the bar as the liquid burns a path down my throat. God, why do I love this stuff so much? It’s like swallowing acid. The liquid lands in my belly with a splash and warmth slowly oozes its way through my veins.

  Stress melts.

  Issues fade.

  Joy surfaces.

  Okay, yeah… that’s why I love it.

  “You had to shit a brick when you saw him at the hospital.” Jayne laughs, picking up her shot glass and sipping the last little bit that she missed.

  “Not just one brick, try more like a million.” I could have built a mansion with all the bricks I was shitting that night. “I didn’t think things could get any worse and then, boom, Matthew walked in.” Seeing him took me completely off guard. My heart did things that had me wondering if I was going to need emergency treatment next.

  “Ooohh, Matthew,” she teases, and we both giggle.

  “Why are we laughing at that? Why is his name funny?”

  Her eyebrows knit together and she thinks. “I think ’cause we had three glasses of wine and a shot.” Jayne explodes with infectious laughter and I can’t help but join in. She wipes a tear from her eye as our laughter dies down. “Holy shit!” She sits straight up in her seat, eyes on the door. “That’s him.”

  My head nearly swivels right off my neck. “Who?” A wave of panic flows through me. “Matthew?” Since we were just talking about him, I assume that’s who she means. My heart starts thumping and my stomach flips just like it did when I saw him at the ER. Does that mansion need an addition? Cause here come some more bricks.

  “No, look.” She points. “Isn’t that your ex, Tyler?” My thumping heart slows down. I’m sure it isn’t. How would Jayne know who he was? She never even met Tyler. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him, Holly,” she answers without even being asked.

  I look across the bar, and sure enough, there’s my ex strolling in. My stomach goes from flipping to twisting into a big gnarly knot. Impulsively, I reach for my compact to check my reflection. The knot in my stomach tightens. I’m not loving what I see. My brown hair has a mind of its own and my eyeliner has smudged from the laughter attack a few moments ago. Tyler will not approve; he was always quick to comment when my appearance wasn’t quite up to standards.

  “I should run to the bathroom and fix myself up,” I whisper to Jayne, rummaging through my purse for something to pull back my hair.

  “No.” She grabs my wrist, keeping me from standing up. “You look gorgeous. You don’t need to do shit to impress that dickhole anymore. Sit your ass back down.”

  Jayne’s right, I don’t need to impress him. Whatever. I lean back against my seat, crossing my legs. My foot takes off bouncing, causing my whole body to shake. I reach down, grabbing my foot to steady it. My eyes stay trained on my ex. So what if he looks perfectly put together in his suit and tie, not a hair out of place? We’re over. He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. It’s been almost a year. Who knows, he might not even see me, or even if he does, he might not even come over and.... Oh, shit. He sees me. He’s walking over. Dammit, I should’ve run to the bathroom and fixed myself up. I run my fingers over my hair to smooth it.

  “Jayne, he’s coming over, what should I do?”

  “I know what we should do. Bartender!” Jayne hollers, and points to our empty shot glasses.

  More alcohol is not the answer. My brain cells are needed. I don’t want to say or do anything stupid in front of Tyler. Not that I think we’ll get back together. But who knows, maybe we’ll make plans to meet up for dinner or something. It might be nice to catch up.

  “Holly, what a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?” Tyler leans down and kisses me on the cheek. When he stands back up I can tell by his expression that he notices my smudged eye makeup. I dab under my eyes with my index finger.

  “I’m here with my friend Jayne, having a drink. Jayne, this is Tyler.” Jayne gives him a disapproving sneer. I try and warn her with my eyes to quit it. “Tyler, this is Jayne.”

  “Having a drink? Or many drinks?” Tyler glances down at the new shots that were just delivered to us. I’m now cursing this bartender’s prompt service. Drinking—another no-no on Tyler’s list.

  “Excuse me.” Jayne jumps up from her seat. “I think it’s best if I step away for a few minutes before I say something I might regret.” She picks up her shot and downs it in one gulp. “Cheers, asshole!” She slams the empty glass back on the bar. “Damn, I almost made it,” she says before walking away.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize, mortified by my friend’s behavior. Jayne is dead. I’m going to kill her.

  “No need to apologize. I understand. I’m sure our breakup was very hard on you,” he says, adjusting his cuffs, bringing my gaze down to engraved platinum cufflinks. What happened to the gold ones I gave him? Wait, did he just say on me? Just me? Wasn’t this breakup hard on both of us?

  “Are you here by yourself?” I ask.

  “Someone’s meeting me.” He does a quick scan around the room, adjusting his tie. Usually people loosen their ties in a bar, but Tyler tightens his right up to the neck. “Are you still working at Billmore Systems?”

  “No, I’m with LazerShark now,” I state proudly. “Social media, just like I wanted.”

  “Good for you.” He stretches his neck and waves to someone at the entrance. “I’m glad you have something good going on in your life, Holly.”

  I don’t know what that comment means or how to take it. I open my mouth to question him, but before I can a woman walks over and links her elbow around his.

  “Hey, sweetie, sorry I’m late.” He turns his head and she kisses him on the lips.

  My eyes move in slow motion, going from her stunning exotic features, to her hourglass figure, landing on the sparkling rock gleaming on her finger. Cue the horror music. Knife in the shower. Hockey mask at camp. Bladed glove in your nightmare.

  “This is Giselle, my fiancée.” Tyler tucks her under his arm and hugs her in tight like a shiny gold trophy. A gorgeous, big-boobed, whorey trophy.

  I’m gonna be sick. He’s with someone. They’re engaged. My eyes blink back moisture. This isn’t happening.

  A few seconds pass. He doesn’t even give Giselle my name. They both stand there, staring at me, waiting for me to… congratulate them? Clap? Acknowledge some weird happily ever after prize?

  Not gonna fucking happen.

  I raise up my shot, down it, and slam it on the bar in the same fashion that Jayne did. And I quote her. “Cheers, asshole!”

  ONCE I PLACE a fifty on the bar, the bartender takes our drink orders. I have successfully downloaded the Uber app onto my phone, so if I drink a little too much, which I plan to, I have no worries of getting a safe ride home.

  I’m feeling good. And why shouldn’t I? For the next thirty-two hours, I’m a free man. No work. And to celebrate, I’ve accepted an invitation for a night out with a coworker. A guy who isn’t one of my brothers, at a bar that is completely new to me on the other side of town.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this.” Jeremy raises his cider up to me before sipping. “And thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I have to be honest,
when I asked if you wanted to go for drinks, I figured you’d say no.”

  “No way. A night out is just what I needed. I don’t get out enough.” I reach for my beer. “Why’d you think I’d say no?”

  He shrugs. “I guess partly because you’re a PA and I’m a just a Unit Clerk. I thought you might think it was weird. Plus, I don’t know, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you kind of come across as a bit of a loner.”

  Is that the vibe I give off at work? An unapproachable loner? Shit, that’s not what I want.

  “No, I’m thrilled you asked me to meet you here.” Okay, the word thrilled might be pouring it on a little thick but then again, I don’t want him thinking I’m some arrogant tool, so maybe pouring it on a little thick is needed. “This is awesome. Really. Cheers.” I raise my bottle and he clinks his glass into it. A grin peeks out through his thick beard and I relax, tilting my head back for a big swig of beer.

  Colorful lights spin from the platform in the corner and the lights dim. A DJ turns on his mic and introduces himself to the bar. He bellows the word, “Shaaaaade,” into the microphone. It’s a private joke of sorts as a few of the guys laugh and point at each other. Music so loud it shakes the roof roars through the bar, making conversation almost impossible.

  One Direction with a techno twist blares from the speakers. My knee bounces along in rhythm to the wild dance mix version. All of my nieces have had individual crushes on the members of this boy band at one time or another. I know their music well, too well. A few words slip out and I accidentally begin singing along. Fortunately, Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind and even joins in for the chorus.

  “Harry, right?” he yells over the music with a nod and a chuckle.

  I laugh and nod along with him. He must have nieces too.

  The bartender returns. “You guys good over here?” he yells.

  “Shot?” I project my voice over the pulsating music.

  “Yeah, sure.” He leans in closer to my ear so I can hear him. “You like Lemon Drops?”

  I don’t know what that is but I say, “Sure,” and the bartender pours up two shots. They go down smooth. Easy. They’re not that strong. I hold up two fingers. The bartender mixes up two more and once again, down the sweet, weak alcohol goes.

  “From here?” The bartender points to my change sitting on the bar.

  “No, these are on me.” Jeremy reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

  “No, take it from here. And add two more on, less lemon, more vodka this time.” I instruct the bartender, and encourage Jeremy to put his wallet away. “Tonight’s on me. My way of saying thanks for asking me to join you.”

  Jeremy gives my shoulder a tight squeeze. “I’m really glad I did,” he says, leaning in close enough that the coarse hairs of his beard graze my earlobe.

  The third shot is set in front of us and this time it leaves a powerful sting when it slides down my throat. I place another fifty down on the bar for me and the new friend I’m incredibly glad to have made. Maybe that loner theory wasn’t too far off. Now, if only I can find a girlfriend or at the very least, a date that lasts longer than one night, I’ll be all set.

  “You ever date anyone at work?” I ask. Tonight’s going so well, it has me reconsidering if perhaps I should ask out one of the girls from the hospital.

  “Once,” he says with a sigh. “It didn’t go so great. Not like this is going.”

  “Exactly,” I say with conviction. “This is great, that’s why I’m asking.”

  “This is great,” he agrees and once again leans forward, the scruff of his beard squeamishly close to my face. His fingers walk their way over to my thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

  Huh? What’s going on here? This isn’t right. Peen’s aware something’s wrong and tries to warn me.

  Jeremy’s face moves in even closer, lining up with mine. I don’t understand what’s going on, and when I do, my reaction time is slowed by the three shots of vodka sloshing their way through my system.

  His fur-covered face moves in.

  His dry lips part.

  I see teeth.

  I see tongue.

  Ohhhhhhh noooooooo. Ruuuuuuunnnn! Peen shouts in slow motion.

  But it’s too late and before I can take action, his tongue crashes down and swirls over my tightly sealed lips.

  CODE GREEN! EVACUATE THE BUILDING! Peen shrivels up inside me to take cover. Either that or he’s dead.

  My head jerks back with such vigor, I may actually have whiplash. I gulp a breath, sucking in the rancid scent of lemon mixed with the apple cider that lingers on his breath. A rumbling gurgle forces its way up my throat and I somehow manage to swallow it back down.

  Jeremy sits back in his seat and I stay glued in place. We both just stare ahead. I open my mouth but no words come out. My lips slam shut. I think it’s best if I wait for him to say something first.

  “You’re not gay, are you?” he asks after a full minute’s gone by.

  “No.” I reach for my beer and guzzle down a long swig. Jeremy is gay? I scramble for any type of logic I can muster. But he has a beard? Gay guys don’t have beards. I’m being ridiculous. But come on… how did I not know? Or is the better question, how did he not know I was straight?

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure when I asked you out.” He plays with the white cocktail napkin under his cider. “But you said yes, then you paid for the drinks, sang along with One Direction, we started drinking Lemon Drops, then you asked about dating at work. I just thought….” He stops. “Shit. I totally fucked up.”

  I reach up and scratch the back of my neck. It wasn’t him. This was my fuckup. Glancing around the bar with new eyes, I mentally curse myself for not seeing this night for what it so clearly is. The bartender is wearing a vest with no shirt. Two men are having a dance off to a Britney Spears song. There isn’t one girl in the place; it’s a total sausage fest. My foot taps nervously underneath my stool. Jesus Christ… the name of this bar is Crossed Swords.

  It’s official, there is no one out there more clueless than I am.

  Jeremy grabs his coat from the hook under the bar. “I should go. And please let me pay for my drinks.” Again, he reaches for his wallet.

  “You don’t have to go. This was my fault. Things like this usually are.” I motion for him to sit back down and he does. “I can see how this must have looked.”

  “So, you’re just looking for…?” He leaves the sentence open for me to fill in.

  “A friend. Unfortunately, I don’t have many. I guess you were right before when you called me a loner.”

  “More drinks?” The bartender reappears, leaning forward on the bar in between us. His arms are tan and jacked. I quickly avert my eyes to avoid any further misunderstandings.

  Jeremy starts to shake his head no. He slips into his coat. If I let it end like this, there’ll be nothing but awkwardness between us. I can’t have that, nor do I want it. I like Jeremy. “Yes, I’ll take another beer. And he’ll have another cider?” Jeremy stops, surprised by my response. His face breaks into a grin and he nods, sitting back down. “And two more shots. But make mine a whisky this time,” I add in quickly. Apparently the lemon shot is some type of signal I want to avoid. Mental note, so is singing along to One Direction.

  “You’re not mad?” Jeremy hangs his coat back on the hook.

  “Not at all. It was just a misunderstanding.” I’m just sorry that it took him kissing me for me to realize.

  The bartender slides over our shots, Jeremy lifts his and I raise mine up too. “Friends.”

  “Friends,” I repeat with a clink into his glass.

  “You won’t mention this little mix-up to anyone at work?” he asks before downing the lemony booze.

  I lift up my whisky, drunkenness already beginning to creep its way in. “I can guar-an-tee you that I will not be sharing this story at work.”

  Or anywhere else for that matter.

  MY VISION IS completely blurred as I watch three Jayne
s stagger in a zigzag line into her apartment building. We hit a total of four bars tonight and did a minimum of two shots at each one, so that means like at least… eleven, or maybe thirteen?

  Who the fuck knows? I’m hammered.

  I drank Tyler right out of my system. And if any thoughts of him return tomorrow, well, then that’s tomorrow’s problem.

  My stomach gives a sloshy rumble.

  “Uber guy. Can we stop at Mickey D’s?”

  “No, it’s too far out of the way,” he says, slowing down at a traffic light.

  Bummer. I’m starving.

  “Uber guy, what about pizza? Romeo’s is around here. Can you drop me off there?”

  “My name is Dave.”

  “Sorry.” I giggle at my rudeness. “So, um, Uber Dave, can you drop me off at Romeo’s?”

  “That’s one block over. I’ll drop you off, but I’m not waiting. If you need a ride after that, you use the app and call for someone else.”

  I search through my purse, looking for some money to bribe him with. A few extra bucks might convince him to wait. My wallet is empty, but I do find a crumpled up ten at the bottom of my bag. Enough for two slices and a drink, but not enough for a bribe. “Fine, drop me off.” Now that I have pizza on my inebriated brain, I must have it. At least I can thank God for the no-cash Uber policy. But too bad for Uber Dave, it looks like he won’t be getting a tip.

  “I’m gonna get extra cheese or extra mushrooms,” I announce to a man who couldn’t give two fucks. “Or maybe I’ll just have an extra slice with extra cheese and extra mushrooms. What do you think?” Regardless of whether he gives a fuck or not, my drunken ass wants his opinion.

  “Yeah, mushrooms and cheese. Fantastic. Have a good night.” The car’s parked and he wants me out.

  Snow has started to coat the streets, probably why Uber Dave won’t wait. An ounce of worry sneaks its way in. Should I go straight home? Romeo’s garlicy aroma wafts into the car and makes that worry vanish. It’s just a little snow.