by Elsa Kurt
Her phone buzzed. It was a group message between Molly, Kate, Lilly, herself and two other neighborhood girlfriends.
Hey, bitches. Let’s walk off this damn alcohol tonight.
6pm, meet at Kate’s if you’re coming.
Oh, why the hell not, Keira shrugged as she typed, ‘I’m in.’ She quickly called the kids to check in. The novelty of vacation was wearing off for them too, and they were ready to come home. Keira was gleeful and relieved, not entirely over her fear they would think Darren was the more fun parent and want to stay with him full time. Violet was at the age where she either had a million things to say or absolutely nothing. This time she was in her chatty mood and wanted to tell her every single detail of their day, the latest boy band crush (Mommy, convince Daddy to buy me tickets, please). Lola was always talkative, with something to say about everything, so by the time they said their goodbyes, it was a quarter to six.
When she walked up to Kate’s driveway, the others were already there waiting.
“Sorry, sorry. Was talking to the kids, and—”
“Relax, sunshine. Still waiting on Lilly. Oh, here she comes.”
“Boo, no Iliana?”
“Nope, sorry ladies. Billy gets Daddy duty for a bit.”
“Damn. Well, at least I can swear without feeling guilty,” said Molly.
“Like it stopped you before?”
“Well, I didn’t say it stopped me, I said it made me feel guilty.”
“All right, girls, let’s power-walk.”
“Power walk, my ass. I’m regular walking,” swore Molly.
Off pces with scattered conversations until a loud motorcycle came up the street towards them.
“Hey, Mols, is that one of your Harley guys?” Donna yelled.
“No, but he sure as hell can be. Damn. Who is that?”
“Oh,” said Kate with a sly smirk, “that is my new neighbor, Abram. Single, teaches special needs kids, lives by himself. Tony got all the details this morning. Hot, right?”
“Oh, hot damn. Is he stopping? Introduce us, Kate.” Molly had instantly forgotten her ‘doneness’ with the dating scene, it would appear.
Abram had shoulder length wavy brown hair, olive complexion, chiseled cheekbones, and the whitest teeth they’d ever seen. Yes, he was hot. He was also only twenty-five, making him way too young for her taste. Still, he was fun to look at. Kate made the introductions, and they all made small talk that mostly revolved around his motorcycle. The others engaged the young Adonis as she allowed herself a little sexual fantasy involving the toned and tanned man.
She pictured straddling him on the bike, her bare legs, tan and smooth over his muscular thighs. His muscles tense as he braced both them and the bike. With one arm on the handlebar, he used the other to grab her…
“What about you, blondie?”
“Um, Keira? Abram is talking to you,” Kate said.
Keira flushed and stammered a response.
“What? Oh, I— uh, yeah, no. I mean, I’m not… bikes aren’t my thing. No offense. Yours is very—”
“Don’t mind Keira, she doesn’t get out much,” snarked Molly.
Keira was about to give a snappy comeback, but her phone rang. It was Kyle. She walked away from the group quickly, and when she was out of earshot, she answered.
“Well, hey there. Glad you answered this time.”
She could hear the smile and tease in his voice and smiled, too.
“Well, I figured I’d better after that advisement of yours. Hi, Kyle. It’s nice to talk to you finally.”
“Nice to hear your voice, Keira.”
Keira got an actual, physical jolt when he spoke her name, something that had not happened with either Jason or Troy… or No Name. Or Long Hair. They talked about inconsequential matters— the weather, whether each of them was having a good day, then, at last, he asked the looming question.
“So, when are we going to get together?”
“Ah, well, I work from home, so my schedule is probably more flexible than yours. Oh, and my kids are away for a few more days. So that gives me tomorrow, Thursday and Friday, for starters.”
“Let’s see, I’m working Wednesday and doing a double on Friday. How about Thursday? Man, I bet you must be missing your girls, huh?”
“Yes, I am. But it’s been good for them, for all of us really. Oh, and Thursday sounds perfect. Where and when?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on time and place, gotta get back into the station. Text you in a bit if that’s okay?”
“Sure, no, that’s fine.”
They said their goodbyes, and the whole time Keira grinned stupidly as she walked back towards the group still converged around Abram. Lilly noticed her return first and gave her a knowing nod.
“I bet I know who that was.”
“Yup, I bet you’re right.”
“Welcome back, blondie. I was just telling the ladies I’d be happy to take any of you out for a ride sometime. Bet I can convince you, too.”
“Me? Oh, well, I…” she blushed again as the inappropriate image she’d conjured flashed before her again.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a maybe, then.”
The Adonis grinned in a sexy, flirtatious way that was hard to not respond to. The group of women practically swooned. Keira suspected that he’d practiced that grin in front of a mirror until perfected. And the whole ‘blondie’ thing? Please. All— okay, well, most— of her awkwardness disappeared the moment she realized she had no actual interest in the exceptionally good-looking man. Young man, she reminded herself again.
“You can take it as a ‘we’ll see about that,’” she said.
She softened the words with a smile that was neither flirtatious nor sexy, but rather kind and friendly, with perhaps a hint of arch and aloof. If they put him off at all, Abram didn’t show it, but instead revved the motorcycle’s engine before pulling away slowly, then picking up speed as he got further down the street. Undoubtedly, he knew he was being watched and wanted to give the women a show.
“Well, that is one fine ass piece of man candy. Mhhm, hmm,” said Molly.
Molly made as if to fan herself from the hotness, the others agreed, adding their own exclamations, Keira as well. She wasn’t entirely immune.
“I think you impressed him, Keira,” said Kate.
“Me? Please, I was hardly even a part of the conversation. I all but said I hated motorcycles. And he’s too young for my taste.”
“And how about she’s already juggling three men, not including her ex-husband? Let the other single lady in the group get a turn, hmm?”
Molly was kidding, mostly.
“Oh, says the woman whose ex-husband is desperately pining away for her and is stringing along Harley number three. Besides, Hot Abram is too young for me... for all of us.”
“Hey, speak for yourself, granny. I’m fine with being a MILF. Or is it a Cougar? Whatever. You gonna tell us about your phone call with Mr. Interesting or what?”
They resumed their walk and Keira filled them in on the conversation with Kyle, concluding with,
“So, who’s got ideas on where we should meet? And don’t suggest anything downtown. You know I can’t parallel park, and that’s all they ever have there.”
They finished the walk back at Kate’s, everyone had thrown in a suggestion, and Keira was no better off than when she’d first asked the question. She didn’t want to go to any of the places she visited with anyone else. In the end, she supposed she’d leave it up to him.
Hmm, those loose ends do seem to be dangling more and more, but who am I to say? I’m just the narrator, after all.
10 SOBRIETY IS OVERRATED
Chapter Nine in The Smart Woman’s Guide To
Dating. As I mention in each section, keep alcohol consumption to a minimum on dates. Impaired judgment leads to poor decisions. Keep a clear head, eat light and make your dates short and sweet. Always keep ‘em wanting more.
“Remember what I used to ca
ll you when you were married to Darren the Dick.”
Molly eyed her from the edge of Keira’s bed as she readied for her date with Kyle.
“Yes, thank you, Molly. I remember— the Stepford Barbie. I remember. Why are you even saying this right now?”
“Well, you’ve made progress, a lot of progress since you kicked him out, despite the near slip with Dickless, I mean Nameless, and I’d hate to see you lose any ground.”
“Okay, I get that— and thank you, by the way— but I still don’t understand why you’re saying that right now, just before I go out to meet Kyle.”
“Because, princess, you like him. And we know how you get when you like someone.”
Keira paused in applying her lipstick and sighed dramatically at Molly through the mirror.
“Oh, stop. I don’t ‘get’ any kind of way, thank you.”
It was Molly’s turn to drama-sigh.
“Yes, actually, you do. Shall I remind you of Dylan McDonald?”
“Pu-lease. High school crush—”
“You had your kids’ names picked out before he even asked you out. Then Marco—”
“That was different—”
“No, actually, it wasn’t. Not only did you have your kids’ names picked out, but your house, your dog’s name and where you would retire. Then Darren. Then No Name. Shall we discuss how that—
“You’ve made your point, now shut up. That was then, this is now. I’m just letting things go where they go. And, yes, I like him. So what? Put your eyebrow down, I’m serious.”
“All right. Just making sure. Usual drill, text me when he gets there and when you leave. Good luck with parking. Hopefully, they valet. I have to go make dinner for the clan. Janice has gone to the casino with my aunt. Thank God.”
Molly was right as usual. Keira recognized that she had the bad habit of romanticizing everyone she ever dated, imagining them the way she wanted them to be rather than seeing them for who they really were. At best, she got disillusioned and broken-hearted. At worst, married to a jerk for fourteen years. No, Keira really had learned her lesson at long last. No more looking for princes or knights. She was to be her own hero, and that was that.
Wherever this date led, whether somewhere or nowhere, she would look at him without those rose-colored glasses she was so infamous for wearing. She would expect the same from him, too. Any signs of pedestal-putting, possessiveness, over-interested-ness, and she was out. She pointed at herself in the mirror and said,
“You got that? Any signs of crazy from Kyle the Cop, you beat it.”
Mhmm. We shall see.
Satisfied, she stood from the vanity, told her goodbyes to Molly, grabbed her things and left for her date with Kyle… the Cop. She’d gone casual. Hair down, a simple dark blue silk sleeveless top paired with loose linen capris and dark blue sandals, low heels. She had a high probability of tripping otherwise, and she was avoiding unnecessary risk.
For this MateMatch meet, she was less anxious about the meeting than she was the parking. After several rounds of debate about where they should get together, she’d made his last suggestion their final pick, just for the sake of choosing. Unfortunately for her, it was in the city where there was usually only street parking. Not Keira’s strong suit by a mile. She would arrive even earlier than what she usually liked, guaranteeing that she could avoid having to park with him watching. Ridiculous? Molly thought so. But Keira didn’t care.
The miracle of miracles, the restaurant offered valet parking. Keira jumped at it. She handed her keys to the attendant and entered through the bar side of the upscale eatery, eyeing a bar-height table from which she could watch the door. They’d agreed to meet for a drink, leaving it open to more should they hit it off, as per Standard MateMatch Meeting Etiquette.
A tall, good-looking waiter came and took her drink order, setting a crisp, square white napkin on the mahogany table. All the tables, chair backs, and the bar top had the same rich dark wood, polished to shine. A colossal mirror ran along the back of the bar, lit by a row of miniature white lights.
There was a handful of people— men in suits and women in business chic—talking animatedly but in low tones two tables before her, a distinguished looking older couple drinking martinis and staring out the window at the front of the bar, and a middle-aged man at the bar drinking beer. It was uncomfortable sitting at a bar by herself. In fact, she felt like she looked desperate. Keira called Molly while she drank her wine and waited.
“What happened, you get stood up?”
“No, you ass. At least not yet, I mean. I’m early, talk to me.”
“Fine, princess. Are you feeling weird sitting at the bar like a trashy bar hag?”
“Yes,” she hissed, “I am, as a matter of fact.”
Molly laughed at her and compared what she was doing— cleaning up youngest daughter Shaina’s vomit from the kitchen floor— to what Keira was doing and asked if they could switch places.
“Oh, no, poor Shaina.”
“Poor Shaina, my ass. She’s fine and dandy now, curled up on the couch watching her favorite show—
“The Chelsea Marin Chronicles?”
“Yup, you guessed it— and I’m scraping puke from between floorboards. So, what’s the ETA on Mr. Whatever His Eyes Are?”
“Any time now, really. Fuck, I think that’s him. Nope, false alarm. Anyhow, yeah. Keep talking to me, so I don’t look like a loser. Shit, this might be him. Never mind, he’s black.”
“Are you an idiot? Wait, are you drunk already? How can you confuse a black dude with a guy whose pictures you looked at a bazillion times?”
“Oh, shut it, Molly. I can’t help it, I’m nervous. Why am I doing this? I hate this. I should’ve just— oh, my— oh, nope, not him. Anyhow, I should’ve canceled the stupid MateMatch thing when I said I was going to.”
“Relax, sunshine. Geez, chug that glass of wine and order another. You need to—”
“He’s here. Gotta go. Call you later, bye.”
Keira barely had the words out before she hung up abruptly. No doubt Molly was still on the other end staring at the phone, shaking her head. She watched him— Kyle— as he scanned the room, deciding that yes, she liked his face in person, too. He looked just as he did in his pictures. Rugged, tall, lean, and commanding. His face had a guarded, watchful seriousness that was likely a hallmark of years on a job where he needed to be those very things all the time. His posture was impossibly perfect. She checked her own bearing and found it wanting.
“Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured.
Keira checked herself once again. This time from projecting onto him what she wanted to see rather than seeing him for himself.
Well, at least it’s not George Clooney you’re projecting.
Kyle’s eyes locked on hers. Keira smiled and waved, and his expression relaxed significantly, transforming him so much that he became boyishly cute in a heartbeat.
“Hi. You look relieved,” Keira laughed.
“Actually, yes, I am relieved,” he replied as he sat down across from her. “You are pretty perceptive, there. Or am I that obvious?”
“Hmm, probably more the latter, less the former. So, tell me, why the relief?”
“Oh, man. How many of these MateMatch things have you gone on? Three, you said?” Keira nodded. “Well, this is my fourth or fifth, and let me tell you, people lie on their profiles. Like, really badly. As in using their high school or college picture instead of a current one. So, I admit, seeing you looking exactly like your pictures is one hell of a relief.”
They laughed together and then exchanged MateMatch horror stories. Things were going perfectly. No uncomfortable lulls in conversation, no furtive glances at watches. One drink (well, Keira was technically one drink ahead of him) let to another, which led to the next step.
Mind out of the gutter. Appetizers. That’s the next step.
“Okay, so I think we’re doing all right here, yes?”
“Um, yes, I think it’s safe
to say we are getting along nicely,” Keira concurred.
“What do you say to some apps?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
The bar crowd had picked up, and the waiter had disappeared, so Kyle appoached the bar and grabbed a couple menus. Keira took that opportunity to discretely text Molly.
Okay, he is SUPER cute. No, hot.
He’s totally hot. And I do not see
any dickishness… so far.
He’s got dimples.
When he turned back to their table, she set her phone back down. After some deliberation, they started with shrimp cocktails and go from there. While they waited, he told her about his upbringing. He’d grown up an only child, raised by a single mom, in the inner city. He said with pride that, though there were hard times, his fantastic mother raised him in a loving home. She had passed a few years prior. The shine in his eyes told Keira he still grieved. Kyle cleared his throat.
“Anyhow. Tell me your story.”
As she did, their appetizers arrived. They paused long enough to thank the waiter, unroll their silverware from the linen napkins, and then she resumed.
At this point, Keira was feeling pretty darn good, relaxed and funny, and also more animated than was typical.
Ah, the infamous ‘I love you, man’ drunk phase. This should go well.
Kyle had gone up to the bar twice more to replenish their drinks, while she’d discretely texted Molly, and she was feeling the alcohol. In a great way. She resumed her animated story in between stabbing the jumbo shrimp with her fork and cutting of small, bite-sized sections.
You might want to… oh, never mind.
“So, thanks to one little butane torch incident,” stab, cut, “I got labeled a fire hazard. I mean, it was just his arm hair, not like his skin or anything.” bite, chew, swallow. “Anyhow, that’s when I knew. I am not going to be a master chef any ti—”
Her appetizer dish slipped off the high table, towards Keira, who instinctively pulled back from it, her fork and knife still in hand, rather than trying to catch it. Later, she would describe the moment as looking like something out of a slow-motion movie scene. The white plate spiraled in slow motion through the air. One lone, half-eaten jumbo shrimp hit her lap and bounced off to join the plate in its descent. The contents of little round tin—cocktail sauce—splatting on the floor. A crumpled lemon wedge following behind. Then, the unmistakable shatter of thick glass as the plate split into several pieces on the floor below them.
