by Kally Ash
3
Evangeline Webster picked up her drink and swirled it around absently, thanking whatever god was up there that she didn't do relationships. In front of her, her friend Chastity was ugly crying into her drink; her boyfriend had just broken up with her after four long years of blissful couple-happiness. Evangeline took a sip and let the straight bourbon burn on the way down.
"I heard he already got the other girl pregnant," Chastity sobbed.
Natasha, Evangeline's best friend, sucked in a breath of air, the sound hissing through her teeth. "That bastard."
Evangeline wanted to add something comforting, something meant to lift Chastity's spirits, but she found she just couldn't give a fuck. She'd been watching this train wreck from the day it started. She'd seen the signs, seen the way Chastity had been too involved, too “into him” from day one. She'd kept her mouth shut though. What was the point of trying to interfere? Chastity would have just told her to go and fuck herself, and that she was just jealous... and—regrettably—she would have been right. Evangeline was jealous. Not of Chastity dating Chad, but of having that intimacy with someone. She had only experienced it once before and she'd vowed never to let herself get hurt like that again.
"—don't you think, Vee?"
"Huh? Sorry. What?" Evangeline shook her head, clearing away her thoughts. Everyone was staring at her, all poised to hear her words of wisdom. She guessed running a nightclub gave her plenty of chances to see lots of different kinds of relationships. She knew people, recognized personalities.
"Umm..." She swallowed the rest of the drink and winced. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."
Chastity emitted a squeak of disbelief at her statement before tipping the rest of her cosmopolitan down her throat. Reaching out her hand, Evangeline squeezed her friend's hand. "I am sorry, Chastity. He's made a huge mistake."
Chastity gave her a weak smile before looking up toward the bar. "I need another drink," she announced in a higher-pitched voice than normal. Standing up, she wobbled briefly on her six-inch heels then sauntered in the direction of the alcohol.
"How long before she's getting over Chad with her legs in the air?" Natasha asked, talking out of the side of her mouth.
Evangeline laughed out loud before slapping a hand over the sound. She shouldn't be laughing. She should be supporting Chastity; they'd been friends since high school, although they'd drifted apart a little since they went to different colleges. "You shouldn't say stuff like that."
"Why not?" Natasha shot back with a wry smile. "We both know it's true."
Evangeline looked around at the other girls, seeing they were chatting among themselves and not paying attention to her and Natasha's conversation. She sighed. "I give her five days."
Natasha smiled, her eyes on the bar. "I give her two."
Evangeline followed Natasha's gaze. Chastity was surrounded by a group of three young businessmen. She was beaming at all of them, wiping away the tears that were still clinging to her cheeks.
"She is so getting laid tonight," murmured Natasha.
"Probably by all three of them," Evangeline added. "At the same time." Twisting back in her seat, she looked forlornly at her empty glass. She needed another drink. All this talk about relationships was getting to her. She hadn't wanted to come out and commiserate tonight, but Chastity had insisted.
Someone reached down and placed a glass of bourbon in front of her. She glanced up at the waitress questioningly.
"From the gentleman at the bar," the woman said, pointing over her shoulder at a man.
Evangeline glanced over. With his own drink in his hand, he raised it toward her and smiled. Giving him a nod, she picked up her own glass and took a sip.
"Wow, Vee, you really know how to attract men."
She turned back to Natasha and shrugged. It didn't matter. She wasn't interested in anything a man could give her—apart from the obvious. Despite her swearing off love, she still had some itches that needed scratching. She found herself staring at the man again, her eyes locked on his eyes, his lips, his jaw. He was attractive—a businessman, she guessed, from the suit he was wearing. She also guessed he was somebody with a “C” in front of his job title. The Rolex on his wrist winked when his sleeve drew down his arm as he took another sip from his glass. He probably worked out six times a week, ate the right food, looked after himself.
She could go over there and get exactly what she needed. It had been a long time since she'd fucked someone. It would be simple; all she had to do was stand up and say six words to him.
Want to get out of here?
Six simple words and she would be leading him to her apartment—or him leading her to his—and stripping off her clothes. They wouldn't talk because they wouldn't need to. They would take what they wanted from each other and leave satisfied. No mess. No emotions. Just fucking.
She could do that. She could.
"What are you still doing sitting here?" Natasha asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Go and speak to him."
Evangeline licked her lips then looked away, efficiently dismissing the businessman with nothing more than a thought. "Not tonight."
Natasha sat back in her chair, staring at Evangeline with a look of consternation written all over her face. "I don't get you."
"What's to get?" she replied, sipping from her new glass of bourbon. "I'm not interested."
"We both know that's bullshit. You're practically salivating."
"I'm not," she replied. "If you're so desperate to get laid, you go over there."
Natasha looked over at the suit and gave him a coquettish smile. It must have worked because she was up on her heels two seconds later, sauntering over to the bar.
"Have fun with Chastity," Natasha said under her breath as she passed Evangeline.
"Stay safe," she replied, tipping the rest of the bourbon into her mouth. She looked over at Chastity, still flirting at the bar, then back to her friends. She'd had enough. She had to go into work a little earlier tomorrow night, but before that could happen she had to hit the gym, get some groceries, and clean her apartment.
She stood up, waved goodbye to her friends, and moved toward the door. Chastity's face lit up when she saw her and she walked over.
"Don't tell me you're leaving."
She was drunk. Evangeline had seen it before more times than she could count. Gripping her friend by the shoulder, Evangeline waited for Chastity to focus her eyes on her. "Go home, Chas."
Chastity pouted like a little girl—a little girl who'd had too much to drink. "You're ruining my fun, Vee."
"You're drunk."
Pulling free of her hands, Chastity stumbled back a step. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are. You're drunk and I think you need to go home."
"Not until I prove to Chad that he's made a mistake," she replied petulantly, turning around and walking back toward the bar and the three men showing her the attention she needed.
Pulling out her phone, she texted Natasha, telling her to keep an eye on Chastity, before leaving for the night. Outside, the air was thick and hot. This summer in LA had proven unusual with high levels of humidity and very little respite from the intense heat in the evenings. Temperatures hovered around a hundred during the day, leaving everyone's nerves and tempers stretched tight.
Her apartment was ten blocks away, so she ditched the idea of a taxi immediately. She needed the walk to clear her head. She had experienced something unusual tonight. Normally when the chance for no-strings-attached sex came up, she was ready for it. But not tonight. Something was different, although she couldn't place what that was. Maybe it had to do with all the shit Chastity had been through with Chad.
There really was nothing like someone else's pain to bring clarity.
4
Evangeline flipped the lock on her deadbolt and let out a breath. She'd walked home from the bar to clear her head a little but also to reinforce the fact that she didn't need to get laid tonight. In the kitchen, she got out a bottle of bour
bon, pouring herself half a glass. As she'd walked home, she'd figured out what had been bothering her, why she hadn't gone for the no-strings sex like she normally would have.
And that reason was someone she hadn't thought about in four years.
Four. Fucking. Years.
And just like that, she had Beau in her thoughts once more.
"Goddamn him," she ground out, slumping down onto her couch. For the first year, she had hated him for leaving without a word. He had broken her heart, left her feeling like their relationship had meant nothing at all. The second year, the hate had morphed to anger. In the third year, she went back to hating him, but at least the level of hate had been dialed down a little more. This year, she had moved on to just plain indifference. She'd decided she didn't give a fuck...
Until tonight.
She sighed again.
Beau had been... was the love of her life. Their romance had been a whirlwind, but the emotions had been real, and when he had dropped out of school without explanation, she felt as if her whole world had been torn apart then shredded into even smaller pieces before being set alight. Finding him to get an explanation, however, had broken her soul.
She eyed her laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of her, the fingers on her free hand twitching. Putting her glass down, she reached out and slid the computer closer, flipping open the top. It booted up immediately and she tapped the touchpad and sent the cursor around the screen on a manic path.
She opened up Facebook with a click and then entered Beau's name into the search bar. About two dozen search results showed up, but none of the profile photos looked like Beau. Of course, he could have changed a lot in four years. He could have gained weight. He could have lost all his hair. He could have facial tattoos... Or he could be just as gorgeous as he had been. She peered a little closer at each of the profile pictures, just to make sure. Nope, no Beau here.
She blew out a frustrated breath and slammed the lid shut. It was stupid to think she'd just stumble across him at random. Besides, she didn't know why she even bothered to look him up. She wasn't interested in getting back with him. He had broken her. Putting the laptop back onto the table, she stood up, taking her glass with her.
In the bathroom, she leaned over the tub and opened the faucet and started to fill the bath. Her phone pinged with a new message and she pulled the device from her back pocket. It was Max. Instead of texting back, she called him. When the call connected, she could hear the deep thrumming bass of her own club in the background.
"Vee," Max said. The music suddenly cut and she realized he'd just stepped into her office at the back. "It's only ten o'clock. I thought you were going out tonight."
"I did. It sucked, so I came home."
He laughed. "All right. So, what do you think? Want to come for a run in the morning?"
"No, but I'm coming anyway," she deadpanned.
He laughed again. "I'll only ever get the truth from you."
"Who's looking after Erin?" Erin was his daughter from his first marriage. His new partner was Gigi, who he'd met when he was in New York after going to set up a new club for her. When he came back to LA though, she hadn't come back with him—something about an internship opportunity. Then, one day, Max's life turned into a Disney special. Gigi had turned up on his doorstep with her packed suitcase at her feet. They'd been together ever since.
"Gigi's looking after her. I'll swing by and get you around seven." He hung up before she could protest.
Evangeline huffed and turned off the water. She stripped off and got in the tub, feeling her whole body heat up instantly. She closed her eyes, and behind her lids, she saw Beau's face. It was her favorite memory of him. He was smiling at her, kissing her cheeks, the tip of her nose and her mouth. They were curled up in bed together, the blanket thrown over their heads, creating a bubble that only contained them. She had been so happy then.
Her eyes opened and she stared at her bathroom ceiling. She knew she shouldn't have gone out tonight. Hanging out with heartbroken women always led to regrets, although she'd never thought of Beau like this before. She stared at the tattoo on her right ankle, the one they’d always talked about getting together.
Pulling the plug, she got out and toweled off. She glanced at the clock in her bedroom before tugging an old t-shirt over her head. It was eleven PM on a Friday night. She didn't think she'd been home this early after a night out in about five years.
Evangeline got into bed, leaving the sheets pushed down near her feet. It was too damn hot tonight.
On her nightstand, her phone pinged again. Assuming it was Max with some sort of time update for the morning, she leaned over and slid the bar across the screen to unlock it. It was a Snapchat from Natasha, showing her kissing the guy from the bar. The message along the bottom read "Thanks for passing on this one. Phenomenal kisser xx."
Evangeline shut her phone off, rolled over, and went to sleep.
5
The sound of packing tape being dragged over a box to seal it shut was going stereo in Beau's ears. He had been building boxes for the past hour or so, getting ready to start packing up his mom's whole life. The plan was to work through the house methodically, starting at the front of the house and working his way back. Today, he’d tackle the kitchen, dining room, and living room. The bedrooms he’d do tomorrow.
He was in the dining room, wrapping his mom’s china plates in newspaper and stacking them carefully into a box. There was just the one cabinet of crockery in there. There was another one in the kitchen and yet another in the formal living room, except that cabinet was full of porcelain figurines. Beau had always hated those figurines, but as he finished up in the dining room and moved to the formal living room, he found himself caressing each figure just a little before wrapping it in newspaper. He couldn't part with any of his mom's things—not right now when everything was still raw—so his plan was to put everything into storage, then revisit it in twelve months. By that time, he should have his shit together and would be able to decide what to keep and what to give to Goodwill.
Christ. Thinking about what life would be like in a year was difficult to imagine. Having had enough for the day, he locked up the house and drove back to John's house. Despite it being Saturday, his friend was at work, so he had the place to himself. He opened up the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He drank half of it in one gulp, then walked through to the living room where he collapsed onto the armchair positioned toward the TV.
What was he going to do now? Sitting still only made him think about his mother and about how pointless his life now was. Worrying about his mom's health was not something he had to do anymore. He was free to live his life, to get a job he actually liked, to start his own family...
Start his own family... just like his mother wanted him to do.
"You were sure about Evangeline."
His mother's words echoed in his head, the memory of them haunting him just as her ghost would.
Evangeline. The woman who had changed the game—who still changed the game, even after all this time.
"Yo, Beau, you there?"
Beau blinked and looked up to see John standing there in his two-piece suit, his laptop case in hand. He was living the life Beau had only dreamed for himself.
"What's going on?" his friend asked, placing his laptop on the couch and going to the kitchen. When he returned, he handed Beau a beer and took a seat.
"I started packing up my mom's house today."
"That's tough, man."
Beau nodded and took a sip from his beer. "It brought up a lot of stuff I need to think about."
"Like what?"
He picked at the label absently. "Like what I'm going to do now. I gave up college for my mom, but I don't think I could go back."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "What would be the point? I have a good job at the gym."
John propped his feet up on the table. "As a personal trainer. You're too smart to not pursue architecture." At
the shake of Beau's head, he added, "Come on, man. I've seen some of the sketches you've done on bar napkins when we've been out. The passion is still there, Beau."
"Even if it was, there's no point now."
"There's always a point to following your dreams."
For some reason, Vee popped into his head. Yes, she'd been his greatest dream and also his greatest challenge.
John put the beer bottle to his lips and tipped. "I hate working Saturdays," he said, changing the subject.
"No doubt."
John laughed derisively. "It’s just this one client. They’re so fucking picky and fussy and... and... indecisive!"
Beau laughed, but the humor wore off quickly. The life he'd never have.
"Have you got plans for tonight?" John asked.
"I was going to sit around and drink myself into a stupor," he replied, emptying the rest of his beer in one slow swallow.
"Amen to that," John replied, joining him. "But we should go out. I think you’re due to let off some steam."
He let the idea sit there for a moment, then said, "Fuck it. Let's go out."
"Yes," John said with a grin, placing his empty bottle on the table. "Let's do this."
Beau felt his lips turn up into a smile, mirroring John's. "I'm going to take a shower."
Hoisting himself up from the chair, he wandered into his room, peeling the sweaty shirt from his body and lobbing it into the hamper. Starting the shower, he kicked off his jeans and got under the spray. He kept the wash and rinse routine to a minimum, turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. After getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee, he strolled back into the living room to find John swinging his car keys around his index finger.
"You always did take a long time to get ready."
Beau frowned. "I was fifteen minutes."
"Pussy," John shot back with a grin. "Let's go. I'm driving."
"Wait—"
"No." John shook his head. "We haven't been out together in how fucking long? You need to drown yourself in liquor, and I need to get laid—and therefore need to remain sober—so I'm driving tonight."
