by A E Gamrat
Listening to the group chat about this new young adult bully book helps my thoughts stay in the now. Traveling backwards on a path I've already taken never ends well. Regret nothing; try everything is my new motto. What new am I going to try after tonight? Bully romance books. The group talks it up, and there are some hot scenes, but who falls for their bully, and who wants to read about it? I'm probably in the minority here. The alphas I get, the moody guy…I love, but bully? Not my thing, but I will try something new.
My bestie sitting across from me has been awful quiet for far too long. A quiet Claire makes my nerves dance a tad. No one ever knows what truly is happening in that mind of hers. At the worst of times she can only go so long without making a sound or saying a word.
“So, tell me why you haven’t scooped that man up for yourself?” Guess I'm a glutton for punishment tonight. If there’s a backstory that Silver isn’t the man I assumed he would be, might as well find out now rather than later.
As Claire is contemplating her answer, someone shouts “Page 83” excitedly, and the rest of the women erupt into one long dreamy sigh. Again, how could a bully romance bring out a romanticized sigh out of every reader in the store? Maybe I need to pick one up and give it a whirl tonight. Doubt my brain is going to shut off quickly when I lie down.
“Could you imagine reading a book that made you sigh like that?” Claire asks while looking at the ladies with a happy smile on her face. Is she deflecting my question?
“Honestly I would take anything at this time that would make me sigh like that.” God’s honest truth, but finding the courage to get those sighs is another story.
“Mmhmmm, I've tried to get you out there and sighing again, but there is always a problem. You are too damn picky for a random sigh.” Claire is right, I want to get sweaty with a man, but when we go out, my nerves kick in and I shoot every guy down.
“I know, I'm a mess. I do want to sigh though, I really do.”
“I know, sweetie, we’ll get you figured out.” Claire pats me on the hand, reassuring me that I'm not a complete fail. “And Silver needs a woman in his life. He’s a good man, takes good care of his family and friends. I don’t want to settle down again, if ever. I love my life. I'm free and happy, and commitment is checked off my life goals. Once it’s checked there’s no going back.”
The little picture Claire painted of Silver is exactly how I knew he would grow up to be. Strong, reliable, caring, loving, strong hands…
“Ginny…come back to me. Daydream about him in your own bed tonight.”
“What?”
“Look at you sitting there all wrapped up in Silver dreams. Like you are going to go home and write all about it in your diary. School crushing on the hunky older man.” Humor is laced through her words, each word embarrassing me more and more. I can feel the heat coming off my cheeks at being caught in my private world. “And my guess is…these thoughts are not new…at all.”
Is it rude to run and hide from a girlfriend? She’s nailed it all down in a matter of minutes. Has the signed copy of my book without me even knowing it. The best quality of Claire is she judges no one. She might be over finding a committed relationship, but not for a second would she ever make fun of me for wanting to try again. Forming my tribe took over forty years, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing. On that note, I’m still not giving her any more gossip.
“You see him; what do you think?” I throw out a wink and head toward the group. It is finally closing time. I can still hear her cackling. A few of them hear her loud, bird-like noises, giving each other questioning looks. We try to be the quiet workers and not interrupt their fun.
As the group starts to pack up, I take quick steps to the romance aisle. I'm going to find one of these weird books and give it a go. Scanning the rows, a lot are half-naked pirate-like men with a busty maiden in their arms. I might need to go to a bookstore that has a plethora of newer books of this day and age. The ones I'm looking at seem more like the forbidden romance books my mom hid all over our house. When you find your mom’s sexy books for the first time, you can never look at her the same again.
Five minutes in and there isn’t a single one with a blurb that seems like bullying, though I do find one with an older woman, younger guy on the cover. “Why not,” I whisper. It's kind of taboo, but not extreme.
“What you got there?” Claire asks as we lock up. She’s going to give me shit about this now too.
“Well, I went to search for one of those bullying books or whatever but found this.” I show her the cover and a shit-eating grin forms on her face. “Thought maybe it would give me some inspiration.”
The look she gives me tells me she knows I’m lying, but she doesn’t call me out on it. “Ohhh, lady, if you need inspiration, call me. I have the real-life ones waiting in line.”
“I’m sure you do.” We hug and walk off toward our cars. “Night.” I yell over before climbing into my SUV. I look over to the passenger seat as I start my car at the book I bought. If all else fails, the book can keep me company during my lonely nights.
Chapter Four
Silver
“Hey, Sil, what’s going on tonight? Been kind of quiet,” Dam asks from across the bar. “I’ve been talking, and you haven’t even nodded in agreement with anything I’ve said.”
“Nothing, man, just trying to relax here.” If that is ever going to be possible again. Since leaving Claire’s shop, I haven’t been able to get Gin out of my head. Everything about the mature version of the girl I crushed on calls to my basic primal needs. Years have gone by, and all it takes is a second glance for all those old feelings to come rushing back. My tongue was instantly tied up when that angel stepped back into my sights.
I’ve known Claire a long time, and I can’t recall Gin’s name coming up even once. Her name isn’t super uncommon, so it could’ve been said in passing without me even catching on. How is that even possible? At one time if someone even brought up a Gin and Tonic, my head went right to that girl. The gorgeous, sophisticated one who always seemed to be drifting along. Always right on the other side of the line. I could see her, get close to her, but I was never able to grab her. That one night, though.
“Seriously, Sil? Those women over there have been eyeing you since your ass hit the barstool. Weren't you talking them up the other day? They might be a package deal.” Dam is now next to me, elbowing me in the side.
“They’re alright, but I didn’t get a good vibe from them. I don’t do package deals either; you know this.” If you are a single guy, really of any age, everyone assumes you are down for anything, multiples being number one on the list.
Yes, I am a guy. Yes, I am single, and no, I am not a virgin. Far from being a virgin, but that does not mean I'm into threesomes, foursomes, or whatever they are calling those things these days.
I know how I come off to some people, but that’s my persona. I like to smile and talk to people. There aren’t enough people in this world smiling, so I try and do my part. But because I'm laidback and like to have fun, people assume I don’t have morals or values. How could a fun-loving guy have a serious relationship or be serious in life? If and when I'm with a woman, it’s the two of us and no one else. No one is watching or walking in on us. Those acts behind closed doors are exactly that: behind closed doors for my eyes and my eyes only. No one needs to know how long it’s been since I've been behind a closed door with a woman. Living is not for the faint of heart. I know firsthand and don’t play around with my heart.
“I know, but normally you like to talk. What's up?” He takes a big old swig of beer, waiting for my answer.
“What’s with all the questions tonight? I want to drink my beer and watch the game. Not talk about my feelings or who I won’t fuck.”
“Alright, alright, sorry.” He backpedals with his hands up in the air. “They just look so sad over there waiting for you to come and say hello to them.”
“Why don’t you go and say hello?”
Dam
doesn’t even thank me; he’s at their table already sitting down. The man drives me nuts, can talk all night about nothing, is loyal to the bone, and my best friend. If I hadn’t suggested him going over there, he would’ve sat next to me all night, wishing to go over but not doing it. Those kinds of people are hard to come by. Loyalty is very hard to find, and I don’t take his for granted, but sometimes damn, can’t a man sit in silence?
Truth be told, those girls are smokin’ hot, probably about Gin’s age, but way too trashy and easy for me. There’s nothing wrong with any of them or how they live their lives, but fun to me and fun to other men are completely different scenarios. When you’ve been through the last couple years like mine, priorities change quickly.
What am I going to do? I’ve picked up my phone a half dozen times in the last hour, tempted to call Claire and get Gin's number or even some info on her. The first question screaming at me is why is she working and in a bookstore? It makes no sense at all. Her family is still at the top of the food chain; there is no way she is hurting for money. Her mom does business with my mother, and she has never said they parted ways or disowned her. Think Mom always knew of my crush, and she would slip that info along if it were true.
Knowing Claire, she would be all over that, giving me every social media outlet she is on and her address. Claire is super out of her mind when it comes to setting people up, and I wonder how Gin has staved off her radar for so long. Gin always deserved to be pampered and loved hard. My family isn’t poor or anything; my parents have great jobs and love each other hard, but we still can’t compete with their fortunes. That’s the main reason why I always stayed off the field when it came to her. I had one lapse with my behavior, and I've never forgotten it. She always deserved better than me.
Look at me, I'm not even sure if Gin and I actually said “hello” to each other, and I’m already weeping over the past and why I don’t measure up. My man card is falling out of my pocket as I sit here alone and wallow.
Damn, maybe I do need to stretch my legs and talk to someone to get my brain off her for at least a few minutes. Though looking around, there are more guys than women. Not to mention the mere thought of chatting up a woman now makes me physically ill. The feelings I buried a long time ago are real and fighting to get out.
The game on the TV is boring, and my beer is warm. I might as well go home. At least there I can watch and drink whatever I want. Before I even raise my hand to signal for my check, a petite hand wraps around my bicep.
“Hey, Silvey, haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you doing, honey?” The question and statement sound innocent enough, but this woman is a snake waiting to bite its next victim. She's sly, quiet, waiting for the right moment to strike. She has no thought of anyone else but herself and will take down anyone in her way.
“Trisha,” is all I say, and then I wave down the bartender for my check. She is out of her mind if she thinks I’m going to entertain her for even a minute. If I felt ill before over talking to women, she makes me want to vomit on her. You hear about evil and there’s always the wonder of how can a person be so evil? Well, I'm looking right at pure evil, and she doesn’t have a hint of remorse. Doesn’t realize the heartache she could’ve caused or the utter anger she causes me every time she’s in the same space as me.
I throw some money on the bar, knowing that it’s way more than enough. I refuse to even make small talk with Trisha, and the bartender is taking too long with my bill. How hard is it to print out a check for two beers? I didn’t even get my nachos that I was craving. Damn, stupid woman and her vile ways.
I know most of the guys in this place, and I can see all their shocked and concerned looks at my abrupt exit. A few know the whole story; some have heard the rumors, and a few probably think I'm crazy for walking away from Trisha. Some people don’t care what kind of personality someone has to have a quick romp with them. Some could probably paint her as a succubus. Sucks you in for a good time and then throws away the dead carcass seconds afterwards.
Man, I thought I’d let some of the extreme anger go, but it seems not. Not sure if it's because of Gin tonight, or it’s been a while since I've been face to face with Trisha, but I could punch something hard for a very long time. Maybe that’s the kind of workout I need. An old school hanging bag and my fists.
An hour and a half later and sweat is running off me with all the anger I let out. Each strike into the solid mass vibrated up into my arms, expelling my demons. After so many consecutive hits, my fingers start to feel a little tingly, so I move on to intervals of jump rope and jumping jacks.
In my school days I played baseball and kept myself in decent shape. I had abs and some definition in my arms and legs. When I walk in front of a mirror now without a shirt on, I don’t recognize myself still. There's no fat practically anywhere on me, and it was not done in vain either. Guess you could say I hit a wall or rock bottom after my world imploded. A good friend saw me spiraling from the weight of the world and introduced me to boxing.
We all know boxing is an intense sport, a great workout, and helps people work through their shit. I had no idea, though, what it could and would do for me. Minutes away from my home is a gym I try to go to once a week, but all other workouts are done at home. From my experience, no matter what kind of gym you go to, there are always gym rats. For me, gym time is to work up a good sweat and then be on my way. Part of my man cave, if you would call it that, has a heavy bag, speed bag, speed jump rope, and a few different sizes of medicine balls. No gym rats in sight to annoy me. I sound like a grumpy old man. I might not be grumpy, but I am older and have no time for annoyances.
When life finally evened out, my need for gym time cut down. Work went back to normal, so doing workouts at home became enough for me. Plus, I can strip down to my underwear if I want, and there are no awkward leering, unwanted stares. The sweat is real, and it's free to jump around almost naked in your own home. I have no problem admitting to what I do home alone.
The women in my life were not thrilled at all with my new hobby, but when they saw that boxing helped the old Silver seep back into my pores, they couldn’t argue anymore. My daughter was worried I was going to hurt myself, and my mother was worried about the extra attention. She voiced regularly how worried she was that a hussy would step in, brainwash me, and then destroy me. No matter how old you are, your mother is your mother. She will always worry and overanalyze every aspect of my life. I was in my forties when she was talking about hussies.
The woman is a saint for putting up with all men in the house, but don’t think for one second she won’t take you down a peg or twenty. She’s run a very successful business since she was nineteen. When asked how long she’s had her business, my mother never forgets to tell how she started it before meeting my dad. How she did it all on her own, even when her parents thought she was out of her mind.
When family needs her, she’s there before you even ask. Yes, she’s one of those mothers. A mother who always knew when I was in trouble. She taught my friends and me how to respect women and we better meet ones who can hold their own like her, obviously.
I saw that woman when I was seventeen years old. Every day I went straight from school to mom’s shop to help her out for a few hours to learn responsibility. Mom’s words, not mine. This particular day was overcast and drizzly. The sun was never making an appearance. As soon as my foot hit the shop’s doorstep, my mom was all over me about an important customer coming in. I had to help load the car, so they didn’t have to get out. Made sense to me, maybe a little overdramatic; it wasn’t down pouring or anything. A good customer is valuable to any business, and keeping your mother happy is as important if not more.
Twenty minutes later a very large, expensive SUV pulled up and honked their horn. I knew right away this was the valuable customer. To this day I have no idea what kind of SUV it was, but I'd never seen anything like it before. I always assumed it was one of a kind, built for the owner, and only used for large pickups.<
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Before my mom could confirm yes or no to who this car owner was, I was out the door with a flat of flowers. The lady in the driver seat signaled the doors to unlock, and to the trunk I went. Think it took three trips for the trunk to be full, then I moved on to the back seat. Now I knew there was a passenger but paying attention to the order meant I didn’t look twice.
Opening the back door on the driver side gave me a straight shot to the passenger, and that’s when my world stopped for the first time. A blonde haired, bright blue-eyed beauty was shyly looking at me. I could tell she was a little younger than me, but not by much. As her gaze flicked at me, the straighter I stood, my steps became surer. I would’ve laid my life down right then and there to hear her whisper her name to me.
My mom rushed me along, thanking the beauty’s mom a million times for her order, and then the SUV pulled away. It was months before I found out her name and how she was so out of my league.
After finding out who she was, my slight stalking began. I didn’t do anything crazy, but my one eye was always looking out for her. Even if it seemed like I was paying one hundred percent attention to a conversation, my eyes were still on the lookout for my beauty, my princess.
The story is like any other involving a princess: she went off to some super expensive, private college. I stayed in town managing the local bank and helping my parents out. I would not change my life for one second. Would never give up my loves for anything, but there was always still a wonder of where Gin ended up? How Gin was and is she with a man who knows how to treat a princess?
