I shot her a glare, but the guy smiled and left. “What are you doing?” I hissed at her.
She shrugged. “Time to get back on the horse. And the horse is hot. And he just went to buy you a drink. And he’s wearing a flannel saddle! Totally your type!”
“He’s not a horse.”
“You’re right—he’s a stallion.”
I scowled at my best friend.
“Rebound guy,” she went on. “He could be your rebound guy.”
“I want nothing to do with guys. I’m not ready for that.”
“Why not? Matt moved on while you guys were still together—with a dude. Tit for tat, I say.”
“Two guys don’t make a right.”
“Two guys makes a gay couple,” she fired back.
I continued to glower at her even as the horse, I mean, hot guy came back from the bar, carting a draft beer and my tequila pineapple.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it.
“No problem. You can make it up to me by losing to me in a game of pool.”
I tried to sputter a witty reply, but after the day I’d had, along with what felt like an entire bottle of tequila, my neurons were no longer firing.
Annie to my rescue. “Sibby would love that.” She handed the guy her pool cue, took her drink, and moved away to sit on a bar stool, throwing herself into conversation with a guy wearing a Red Sox hat.
With no real choice, I said to the horse, “You can break.”
“I’m Aidan,” Hot Guy said.
“Of course you are,” I muttered.
Hot name for a hot guy.
“Sibby.”
“Nice to meet you, Sibby.” He grinned and took a swig of his beer, then set it down so he could rack. He lined up his shot to break and maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was because he was really hot, but I found myself getting a bit warm.
He looked over at me and grinned. Without taking his eyes off me, he broke.
Jeez. Really? Really?
Two balls found their way into pockets. “You’re solids,” he called.
“Okay.” I stepped towards the pool table, moving around it to try and find a decent shot. There wasn’t one. I leaned over, trying to angle my pool cue.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Aidan said with an insufferable grin.
“I am not,” I clipped. In frustration, I let my pool cue rip and missed the ball completely.
“Told ya.”
“What, are you a pool shark or something?”
“Yes.” He walked close to me and whispered, “Excuse me.”
“Huh?” I said stupidly. My brain went to a dopey place when Aidan’s hand gently settled on my waist and moved me out of his way so he could bend over and take his shot.
I was still in a fog as he sank two more balls.
He grinned at me. “Offer still stands.”
“What offer would that be?”
“Pool tips.”
“Can you commence beating me quickly so I can get back to my night with my friend?” I looked over in the direction of Annie who was no longer speaking to the guy in a Red Sox hat—she was making out with him.
“Great,” I muttered.
“Are you always this cheerful?” Aidan asked me with a lopsided grin. It would’ve been adorable if I hadn’t had such a shitty day. Who was I kidding? That smile was cute with a capital OHMYGOD.
And I wanted to steer clear of it.
“I had a rough day, okay? So, I’m sorry if I’m not Miss Congeniality tonight.”
He continued to grin.
“Are your friends mad that you ditched them to hang out with an angry hipster girl?”
Aidan laughed—I’d thought his grin was adorable, but it had nothing on his laugh.
Damn it.
“My friend is the guy in the Red Sox hat making out with your friend.”
“Then he’s definitely not upset that you ditched him,” I said.
“It wouldn’t appear that way, no.” He cocked his head to one side as he rested his pool cue against the table. He went to one of the stools in the corner and took a seat. “Why are you having a bad day?”
I wasn’t going to shout across the table to him about my pathetic existence, so I had no choice but to move to the vacant stool next to him. Something inside told me I was never going to see Aidan again, so I figured what the hell, might as well spill my guts.
“I got fired this morning—on a Monday—and when I went home, I walked in on my boyfriend cheating on me!” I took a long sip of my drink, and then followed it up with another couple of swallows. Buzzy tequila head felt like such a safe place.
“Hence the tequila.” He set his beer down on the ledge behind us and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“Tequila shots. Pool can’t help with that kind of day but more tequila can.”
Like I needed more tequila.
Before I could say anything, Aidan left and a few minutes later came back with a tray of shots.
“All for me?” I asked sarcastically. There were at least ten shots.
He laughed. “Caleb!”
The guy in the Red Sox hat managed to pull himself away from Annie’s mouth just long enough to look at his friend. “What? I’m busy.”
“Shots,” Aidan said. “Sibby’s had a bad day. You in?”
“Yeah!”
“What about you?” Aidan asked Annie. Caleb and Annie slid off their stools and joined us. We all lifted shots and downed them.
“I kinda can’t feel my face,” I slurred as I pressed my fingertips to my cheeks.
“Really?” Aidan breathed.
“How many shots did we do? I’ve lost my ability to do math.”
“Four each.”
I looked over at Annie and Caleb, now a tangle of arms, legs, and mouths, like a weird sea creature with many tentacles. “They’re not coming up for air any time soon,” I said. “And I’m supposed to sleep on her futon. I can’t go home. Matt is home. Matt and that guy. They were doing it on my brand new fucking sheets!”
“Wait, what? He was with a dude?” Aidan asked in surprise.
“Yeah. Did I forget to mention that part?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Shouldn’t matter,” I stated. “Cheating is cheating, but catching him with a guy adds a whole new layer of complexity to my emotional issues.”
“I get it.” Aidan looked back at our friends and shook his head. “You can stay with me. I live just a couple of blocks from here.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“We’ve done shots. I think that makes us friends or something.”
“Or something. I’m not having sex with you just because you bought us shots. Which was—thanks.”
He grinned. “Did I ask you to have sex with me?”
“Dude—I still can’t feel my face and I have no idea where this conversation is going.”
“Caleb is my roommate. I really don’t want to hear him going at it with your friend. Solution: you come home with me—he goes home with her.”
“That makes a strange sort of sense.”
“Tequila does that. I’ll take the couch and you can have my bed. No funny business, I promise.”
I looked at Annie and the last thing I wanted to do was interrupt the face sucking. “Okay, let’s go.”
Aidan took my hand and led me outside. “I’ll send Caleb a text. He’ll show it to Annie and then she won’t worry that you went off into the night with a stranger.”
“You’re a pretty nice stranger,” I commented. He didn’t let go of my hand, but I found I didn’t care.
Tequila was swell.
“Sometimes, you just need someone to be really nice to you,” Aidan said.
“Amen.”
“So this job you had, what was it?”
“I edited textbook copy.”
“That sounds…”
“Boring,” I finished for him.
He smiled. His adorable, cute smile. “Boring, yea
h. Was it your dream job or did you stumble into it?”
I shrugged. “Tripped into it, I guess. When I moved up here after college, I worked at a temp agency. One day I was sent to Hanlan and Sons and three months later, they hired me on full time.”
“And the boyfriend—was he your dream boyfriend or did you trip into that, too?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Okay.”
We walked a few blocks in silence until we arrived at an old brownstone. He unlocked the front door and let me into the vestibule before opening the second door. I followed him across the black and white tiled lobby floor to the back stairs, which he took two at a time, his long legs moving faster than mine. By the time we got to the sixth–and final–floor I was winded. Maybe I should start jogging. Or do Crossfit. Yeah, right. I’d rather do cross sit.
“Sorry, things are a bit messy,” Aidan said, pushing open the front door.
“It’s not so bad,” I murmured as I looked around. Old brown couch, white walls, rock and roll posters. Cluttered, but clean—way cleaner than I expected from two guys.
“Want something to eat? Or drink?” He kicked off his shoes and threw his keys on the coffee table.
“Water would be good,” I said, starting to regain feeling in my face.
Aidan headed to the kitchen, and a moment later I heard the faucet being turned on. He returned and handed me a full glass. I took a few swallows and then clutched it in my hands.
“This is the part where I show you my room,” he said.
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
His room was big enough for a double bed and not much else. There were a few pieces of clothing on the floor, but Aidan didn’t make a move to pick them up. The walls were lined with classic movie posters: Casablanca, The Godfather, Scarface.
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, going to his dresser drawer and pulling out a white Hanes undershirt and some boxers for me to change into.
“Thanks.”
I went to the bathroom, put on Aidan’s clothes and then quickly finger brushed my teeth to remove the taste of tequila pineapples. Turning off the bathroom light, I went into the living room and saw that Aidan was making up the couch. He’d stripped down to his boxers, showing a defined, lean build.
He was being a gentleman, but I so didn’t want to be a lady.
“You should sleep in your own bed,” I said.
He looked up from unfolding a blanket. “I don’t mind crashing on the couch.”
“That’s sweet, but really, I don’t feel right about kicking you out of your own bed.”
“Well, there is another option.”
“Yeah?”
“We could share my bed. If you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Me?” I choked out. We laughed and some of the awkwardness dissipated. I sighed. “I guess that would be okay—sharing your bed.”
We headed back to his room and got comfortable on our designated sides, careful not to touch each other. I settled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “Aidan?” I whispered.
“Hmm?” he asked sleepily.
“Thanks for making this shitty day not so shitty.”
“Welcome,” he muttered before falling asleep.
Chapter 3
Prosecco [pro-sek-oh]
1. A sparkling white wine from the Veneto region of northeast Italy.
2. Italy’s version of champagne. Not a fan.
The moment I woke up, I knew two things. One, Aidan was wrapped around me like a candy wrapper. And two, even my teeth were hungover.
I’d never done the wake-up-with-a-stranger morning and all that awkwardness. At twenty-seven, I didn’t really want to learn. I gently removed Aidan’s arm from across my stomach. Thankfully, he didn’t stir. He looked good when he slept. And I meant so good that I was having to stifle the urge to lean over and stick my finger in one of his cheek dimples.
Yeah. The dude had dimples.
Before that feeling overtook me, I got up, changed back into my clothes, and tiptoed out into the living room. Everything was quiet and I wondered if that meant Caleb hadn’t returned yet. Knowing Annie, she’d kick him out as soon as she woke up. At least she let her conquests stay the night. Nice of her.
Rifling through my wallet, I found $38.43 and left it on the coffee table. I scribbled on a piece of junk mail, ‘Thanks for the tequila’ before slipping out of his apartment.
I had a bajillion missed messages and voicemails. All from Matt. I continued to ignore them. Some time around eight the night before, I’d turned off my phone. Unfortunately, my silence hadn’t been a deterrent to him.
I texted Annie. Diner? Now?
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated. Corner of 86th and 1st. 10 minutes.
I was close to the diner, and when I arrived there was a lull in customers, so I managed to score an empty booth right away. I ordered two cups of shitty, watered-down diner coffee, sipping mine while waiting for Annie. She strolled in a few minutes later, wearing large Old-Hollywood sunglasses. She slid into her seat and said, “You look like I feel.”
“That good, huh? At least I didn’t throw up.”
“I’m surprised. You were blitzed.”
She took off her sunglasses and set them aside, exposing bloodshot eyes and reaching for her cup of coffee. “So what happened with you and Aidan?”
“Nothing. What happened with you and Caleb?”
She grinned. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“You’re not a lady.”
“Damn right. We hooked up.”
“Did you exchange phone numbers?”
“Nope. Did you exchange numbers with Aidan?”
I shook my head. The waitress came over, snapping her gum. We ordered without even looking at the menu. Diner food was standard in New York City. After my third cup of coffee, I was beginning to feel a little less zombified. I started thinking about my game plan for the day.
“I have to go back to Brooklyn and deal with the apartment and Matt. But I don’t want to deal with Matt.”
“It’s a Tuesday—he’ll be at work.”
“That’s the hope. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could wave a magic wand and all of that cheating bastard’s stuff would be out of my place?”
“That would be nice, but what are you actually gonna do about him?”
The waitress set down a stack of pancakes in front of me and eggs in front of Annie. I picked up my fork and said, “I really have no idea.”
I walked into my apartment and listened for any unusual sounds. There were no laughs coming from the bedroom, which made me thank my unlucky stars.
Matt’s clothes were still in the drawers, his shoes still by the door. My first order of business was to call a locksmith. The apartment was a perfect one bedroom, rent controlled, and had been mine before Matt moved in. He cheated, so he would be the one to move out.
While Matt was at work and I waited for the locksmith, I loaded up all of his stuff and shoved it haphazardly into suitcases and boxes. I stripped the bed of sheets now stained with betrayal…and something else.
YUCK.
Matt could have them.
By four in the afternoon the apartment was fairly cleaned out, all of Matt’s belongings were in the hallway, the locksmith was gone, and I was nursing a glass of wine. Now that I was unemployed and boyfriend-less, there was no one to care if I became a lush. Becoming a lush was rapidly turning into my new life goal.
I heard a stream of curses as Matt saw his belongings in the hallway, followed by an attempt to use his old key in the new lock.
“Sibby? Are you home?” Matt called, pounding on the door.
“Go away!” I shouted. “You don’t live here anymore!”
“Come on, Sib, open the door!”
“No! Take your crap and go! I gave you and your new boy a present. Enjoy the sheets, you tool!”
I continued to drink and turned on the TV, cranking the volume when the knocking on the
door increased. Eventually, Matt got bored and gave up, and I got drunk enough to pass out.
I woke up around 11:00 PM. My mouth was a bit dry, but I seemed to have slept off any oncoming hangover. I got myself a glass of water and went to the front door. Without removing the chain, I opened the door and peered out into the hallway. No sign of Matt or his stuff. I gave a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t have to deal with him if I didn’t have to see him.
There was no food in the fridge, so I put on my skull and cross bone leggings and grabbed my purse. I headed to the corner bodega and nabbed some staples.
By which I meant junk food. Lots and lots of junk food. Epic sugar coma here I come.
I shoved the Matt situation back into a closet and closed the door. I’d deal with the butt load of issues from his betrayal later. I hadn’t given much thought about the job I’d lost. It was a paycheck, but not much else. I’d been a theater major in college with a creative writing minor, but when I moved to New York, I needed a job that paid. Editing psychology textbook copy wasn’t very fulfilling but it was steady income. End of story.
I got back to the apartment and made myself some dinner. My phone buzzed and I grimaced, thinking it was Matt. I had deleted all his messages and voicemails. There was no point listening to them. What could he say? Sorry I cheated? Sorry you caught me? Sorry you don’t have a penis?
Man, I needed shoes to go with all my baggage.
It wasn’t Matt, it was Annie.
“Hey.”
“Where are you?” she demanded.
“My apartment.”
“Come out.”
“What? Are you crazy? It’s almost midnight.”
“Come on. You’re single now.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re not.”
“I am,” I insisted. “I started drinking early and already passed out once. I made some food and then I plan on going back to bed.”
“Wow, that’s what I call depression.”
“I’m not gonna even deny it.”
“You hear from Matt?” she asked.
“He came by earlier, but I had already thrown his stuff out into the hall and had the locks changed. He’s gone now.”
“Way to be proactive. You sound remarkably composed. Shouldn’t you cry over your broken heart?”
Tales of a New York Waitress Page 2