by Portia Moore
“How could you! How? At my job! My job, Michael? What the fuck is wrong with you? You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You’re a terrible, terrible person!” I say through sobs. Steven and Carly have made their way through the crowd and look on in horror at what’s happening.
“I am so sorry,” Michael pleads. “I’ve been drinking and it’s been so hard, I tried to wait. I did, but waiting...” I reach back and slap him hard across the face.
Steven intervenes now and gets between us both, but it’s too late. Ryan is right behind him.
“You two! My office! Now!” he growls.
Ryan’s face is blood red. He’s been filled in on what happened by Steven and he’s furious. I’m numb at this point and if I get fired, it’d just be the icing on the cake.
“I run a bar! A place of business! This is not supposed to happen with my employees. I deal with enough shit from those wankers that pay me, you think I’m going to deal with this shit from people that I pay?”
He turns to Michael, whose face is still red with my handprint. “You’re fucking girls in my club, on my clock, like I’m running a brothel! You’re suspended indefinitely. Get the hell out!” Michael doesn’t even attempt to protest. He looks at me, eyes full of apologies that he’ll never get to say, and I glare at him with a rage that makes him look away from me.
After Michael leaves, I prepare to get berated, called unprofessional, and handed my walking papers. But when the door closes behind him, Ryan’s frown softens and I see it. He’s not just pissed about Trish cheating, he’s hurt. I see it hidden in his expression what I have on full display.
“Here, luv.” He pulls his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and hands it to me. The gesture is so kind and endearing that I break down again. He looks so uncomfortable but he makes his way over to me and hugs me.
“There, there. He’s a twat but it’s better you find out now than later.” He pats my back gently.
“I’m not going to fire you, but I can’t let you get away with what happened out there.” His tone is soft and empathetic.
“I know,” I say in between sniffles. He lets out a deep sigh.
“You’re suspended for two weeks and no bottle service for three months, and you’ll help out on the bar when I need you, okay?” I nod appreciatively. I know he could have fired me on the spot.
“You’re a good girl, Lauren. No more dealing with wankers, okay?”
When I make it home both Hillary and Angie are waiting on me. Steven called and told them I needed them, and like the good friends they are, they came. I burst into tears again when I see them. I break down several times as I tell them everything. They hug and comfort me and say all the things good girlfriends should. I deserve better, I’ll find better, he’s scum etc., but what I really want more than anything is to sleep.
Thirteen
My Knights in shining armor…
I don’t come out of my room for two days. The third day I’m not sure what time it is when Hillary comes in, a determined look on her face.
“Get up and get showered. We’re on a mission.” I look at her confused and see that it’s 9:30 pm. She tosses clothes at me. I pick them up and examine them. There’s a black sweatshirt and pants, and I realize she’s wearing the same thing. “Now, missy!” she warns me.
I get up and do as she says because I’m too drained to argue. Once I’m done I come out to see Angie’s in the same getup.
“What’s going on?” I ask them, afraid to hear the answer.
“We’re going on a tour. A kickass tour.” Hillary doesn’t tell me this until we’re in the car.
“I don’t want to kick anyone’s ass. I just want to sleep,” I tell her. She shushes me and Angie nods in agreement. Our destination is as I figured. Michael’s apartment. But we’re in the back parking lot.
“What are we doing?” I ask, confused. Angie is in the driver’s seat. Hillary gets out of the car and goes to the trunk. I can’t see what she’s getting but a few moments later I hear a loud Whack! I get out and see her hitting Michael’s black Challenger with eggs.
“You can’t do that!” I look at her as if she’s crazy.
“He can’t fuck over my best friend and think he’s going to get away with it. He’s lucky it’s just eggs instead of bricks. He deserves this!” she says. I sigh and shake my head as she throws another egg.
“This isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Nope, but it’s going to make you feel a hell of a lot better.” She pushes an egg into my hand. I let it fall on the ground.
“If you don’t throw an egg at that damn car I’m going to get out of the car and throw one at you!” Angie yells from outside the window. I let out a begrudging sigh and get ready to throw it.
“Like you mean it!” she adds. I growl and pull my arm back and throw the egg as hard as I can.
“Woo!” Hillary shrieks. “Doesn’t that feel good?”
I nod. It did feel good. Really good.
“Give me another one!” I throw one, then three, and before I know it we’ve gone through the whole carton before one of the apartment lights turns on.
“Come on, let’s go!” Hillary pulls me towards the car.
“Oh! One more thing!” I watch her go to the trunk and get a pillowcase. She gets really close to Michael’s car and shakes feathers all over it. They coat and stick to the wet egg. I laugh hard, and it feels good.
“Come on girly. Our work is done. Besides, we have one more stop.”
Another stop?
“We’re here.” Angie nudges me awake. Both her and Hillary are beaming at me. I fell asleep because we were driving for so long. When I get out of the car I recognize where we are. This is Ace Hall, the boy's dorm at U of I. Then I see the green Jeep I was so fond of so many years ago. It has the same license tag and was rusted in a few spots. I have no idea how they found him but I don’t have to be convinced this time. I grab an egg from Hillary and chuck it as hard as I can.
“That’s for being an asshole!”
I grab another. “That's for getting a blow job from my best friend!” I then just take the entire carton from her and chuck it at the window. “That’s for having the audacity of asking me for a threesome with the girl you cheated on me with!”
“And this one is because I like throwing eggs!” Angie laughs, getting in one of her own.
We empty out another carton and by the end we’re laughing, falling all over each other, not caring about any of the people who pass by us laughing, some leering, and girls encouraging us.
“Now maybe I deserved that, but not Old Betty.” I’m shocked to hear his voice. I look up and see him. My Daniel… he used to be, anyway. Taller, broader, and no longer in the stage between a teenager and adult, but a full-grown man. He still has those same warm, angelic brown eyes. He’s amused but not angry. I pull my hoodie off.
“Lauren?” He looks me over, and then back at his car.
“It’s for all those years ago,” I say in a small voice. He nods in understanding. “You feel better?” he asks, amused.
“A little.” I shrug with a laugh.
I look over to my friends. “We’ll be in the car.” Angie says, excusing herself and Hillary.
“Well, I was a stupid kid back then. Guess I really didn’t know what I had until it was gone,” he says thoughtfully. “Wow, Lauren Brooks.” He bites his bottom lip and grins at me. I look away from him, not pleased that time has been so good to him. People who do bad things shouldn’t get more good looking, they should look worse.
“Honestly, I’m sorry. For being so stupid back then, for not seeing what a great person you were. For listening to my brother’s idiotic advice.” He chuckles and wipes his hand over his beautiful face. “You went from one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen to the most beautiful woman I’ve lost.” I’m speechless, touched by his words, and I give him a half a smile.
And in this moment I realize I’m not as mad or hurt by Daniel as I was all those ye
ars ago, and I feel relieved. But it also means that one day this pain I feel today won’t hurt as much either.
“I’m sorry for hurting you as my girlfriend, but even more so, as my best friend. Do you think you could ever forgive me?” I pause, stone-faced, wanting him to sweat a little, but then crack a smile.
“You’re forgiven,” I tell him, and I let out a long breath releasing the hate, bitterness, and anger I had been holding on to. I start to walk to the car.
“Hey!” he calls out.
I turn to face him.
“You wouldn’t think of letting me make it up to you with dinner?” he asks, his eyes still hopeful and as beautiful as they always were. I walk over to him.
“You know, I think I’m going to be feeding myself for a while.” He looks a little confused but he doesn’t need to get it. I do.
I give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
He nods, a charming grin on his face. “And that,” he points back over to his car, “I deserve that. Wholeheartedly. It was nice seeing you, Lauren. If you change your mind, you know where I am.”
“Goodbye Daniel,” I tell him and wave. I leave him and the past hurt and pain I’ve carried so long behind. I’m not sure what my future holds. I had wanted things to work out so badly with Daniel and Michael so I could have what my parents had. But I realize that true love doesn’t have to be romantic. It’s love that’s pure and unselfish. My friends drove me hours away in the middle of the night to egg two jerks’ cars. If that’s not pure and unselfish then I don’t know what is. My auntie shared her entire life with me and sacrificed things I can’t imagine. That’s love. I might not have my Prince Charming, but having them isn’t too bad of a happily ever after.
Fourteen
April 15th, 2008
Once upon a time…
…Can you work for me tonight? Plzzz.
It’s a text from Trish. The last time I got a text from her was when I found out my boyfriend was a cheating whore twat. I guess I owe her for that. If I hadn’t worked that night I may have never found out, and I would have ended up sleeping with him.
Sure I text back. I drag myself out of bed to get ready. It’s been three months since everything happened with Michael at the club and I have two weeks left before I can work as a bottle girl again so it takes two shifts to make what I used to, and an extra shift doesn’t hurt. It’s what I told myself at the beginning of this shift but now I wish I would have stayed home in bed, eating my Lays. My feet are killing me. Ryan has me schmoozing one of his customers, Jason, and all I want to do is get home. At least out here I can think, the breeze blowing away all of my worries. Right as I’m making my way back into the club, Michael heads toward me. His indefinite suspension has been lifted. He’s a lying, cheating jerk but an excellent bartender and Ryan loves his money makers.
“This must be my lucky day,” I mutter sarcastically.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks as I walk past him.
“Actually, I’m meeting someone.” I smirk at him before continuing on my way.
“What? Who? I mean, you just got off,” he says, stumbling over his words. I guess I surprised him. I just smile with a shrug, but he calls after me, “Well, when you’re not busy, I need to talk to you.”
I don’t even look back. What Michael doesn’t understand is I don’t care what he needs. He lost that privilege when I caught him screwing another girl. He didn’t even have the decency to screw her in his car like a respectful douchebag would do.
I’m seeing red as I make my way down to the VIP room. I can’t believe I didn’t see him for the asshole he was. Shit! I must be blind because I’m crashing into people now. Something’s spilled all over my blouse and it’s completely my fault.
“I’m soooo sorry!” No, this is all Michael’s fault. This, the war, cancer—all his fault!
“It’s okay,” a deep, sexy voice replies. It sends a shiver directly up my spine. “I’m sure your shirt costs a lot more than this drink.”
I’m afraid to look up. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. When I work up the courage to finally see whose voice is making my heart try to escape my chest, I find a tall, ebony-haired stranger looking down at me.
And God, he has the most beautiful pair of grey eyes accompanied with an amazing smile and the most perfect lips in the history of mankind. I mentally remind myself not to swallow my tongue and breathe.
Is he real?
Or have I been knocked unconscious and am being fanned with a copy of GQ magazine? This encounter will probably turn out to just be a figment of my imagination.
The more I look—no, stare, I’m actually staring now—the more I decide he has to be an illusion. I search for a flaw, taking in every inch of him, from his chiseled jaw, thick chocolate-brown hair falling right over his eyebrows, to his strong broad shoulders hidden beneath a dark grey blazer and black fitted shirt. No flaw found.
He’s unsettlingly beautiful.
“I-I’m sorry. I can be so clumsy at times,” I choke out, internally cheering that my mind is functioning again.
“Let me get you something for that,” he responds, disappearing into the crowd.
I panic. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he does come back? That scares me even more. But a minute later, he’s here again with a cloth in hand, and I’m still not prepared to think like a civilized person instead of a cavewoman.
“Thank you,” I reply sheepishly, taking the cloth from his hand.
He’s smiling at me as though he knows a secret I’m not in on.
“I’m really sorry about your drink. I can get you another one,” I offer, staring up at him. He has to be at least 6’2”. I unconsciously take a few steps back so I don’t have to look up at him like a little girl.
“You’re good,” he assures me coolly.
No, he’s good apparently, since no matter how hard I try, I can’t make my eyes leave his face. “I work here. It’ll be no problem.”
His gaze is intense, almost intimate, but his smile is so charming, or rather, welcoming—like he’s luring me. For a moment, time slows down. All of the noise around us has disappeared, and it’s just the music and my breathing.
I wonder if he hears it?
He steps closer to me, and I notice in those perfect grey eyes, the iris is surrounded by a subtle green tint. But beautiful as they are, they’re upstaged when he releases the right corner of his bottom lip that he’s been holding captive between his stark white teeth. His tongue sweeps across those delectable lips, adding the perfect amount of moisture, and right then, a wave of heat flushes through my entire body. I inwardly cringe for referring to a body part as delectable—a stranger’s body part, at that—but there is absolutely no other way to describe them.
“I know.” His words jolt me back to reality, and I lean forward a bit, the return of the noise making it more difficult to hear him. A second later, he leans down toward me, his face near my ear, and my breathing hitches. “Your shorts gave you away.” Just as quickly, he’s back in his own space.
“These godforsaken shorts.” I’m so embarrassed and I begin to pull them down.
He shakes his head, a grin on his face as his eyes travel down my body. “No, thank God for those shorts.” He’s biting his lip again, and I feel myself turning all shades of pink. “I was actually coming to get a closer view of the woman I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of since she walked in.” He looks directly into my eyes with a smile that could melt the Arctic.
With that, I almost swallow my tongue. What am I supposed to say to something like that?
“She’s Lauren,” I can’t help but whisper. Wait, that wasn’t right. Wake up, genius! “I mean, I’m Lauren.” I laugh, hoping the music covers my ridiculous answer and that I won’t drop dead of embarrassment right here. Thankfully, my brain cells are released from my hormones’ grip and direct me to extend my hand.
He smiles, almost as if he’s amused. I guess I’d be amused too if I could reduc
e a college-educated woman to a bumbling idiot just by licking my lips.
“I’m Cal,” he replies.
“Cal.” I don’t know why that name sounds familiar to me but it’s imprinted on me just like his presence has.
I’m dizzy after meeting him, floating on a cloud. He’s a hurricane, no—a planet—that sucked me into his atmosphere. I was struck, dazed, and enchanted by him.
“Who was that you were talking to? He’s freakin beautiful,” Carly nudges, just as in awe. I’m stuck in one spot, in disbelief that I’ve given out my number to someone for the first time since I’ve worked here. I have a policy against that.
“Trouble. I think he’s trouble,” I mutter, already sensing it. Carly joins me and we watch Cal making his way though the club. A path clears for him, women doing double takes as he struts past them.
I roll my eyes dismissively, “He probably isn’t even going to call me.”
“Hmm. You never know. Maybe third time’s the charm.” She elbows me lightly and flashes a cheeky grin before leaving. I let out a dry laugh. Of all the guys I’ve met, he’s the most unlikely to ever be the one to save me. That guy looks like the one you’re saved from. But I smile… I can’t imagine a guy like Him being my Prince Charming. Though, it would make for a pretty awesome fairy tale.
The End.
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