by Michelle Amy
“Aren’t all infatuations unhealthy?” I asked, draping my denim jacket over the back of my kitchen chair and starting the hunt for my always missing corkscrew.
Carly shrugged. “Maybe. But some are worse than others.”
I found the corkscrew in one of my drawers and set to opening the bottle of wine. I poured us each a glass and as I took my first sip, I tried to force my features into a neutral expression. “I’m not wrapped up in him. I was just intrigued by him. There’s nothing for me to move on from.”
“Oh please. It’s written all over you. He has you wrapped around his finger and he never even spoke a word to you.”
“Okay,” I admitted. “So I have a crush. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal when said crush hangs out with a bunch of creeps. Not to mention, he seemed to have a lot of authority. You want to get involved in that?”
“Carly, I never once said I wanted to get involved with him. I don’t even want to waste any more time thinking about him. I just can’t help it.”
“Exactly,” she grinned and sipped her wine. “Let’s go to the bar and find you a distraction. I’m sure we can find a guy to fit the bill.”
“I’ve never had a one night stand, I don’t think I want to just throw myself to the wolves like that.”
“It’s not throwing yourself to the wolves. You’re so dramatic. And if you don’t want to take him home and fuck his brains out you don’t have to. But you could let a hot guy buy you a couple drinks. No harm in that.”
Carly wasn’t one for modesty. I scrunched my nose and tried to picture myself taking a stranger home. It was an uncomfortable thought. Clearly, Carly’s mind was made up. She was wearing her favourite top and her makeup was immaculately applied.
She stirred something that smelled amazing in a pot on the stove. “Go shave your legs, and whatever else needs tending to. I’ll finish dinner. Then we go hunting.”
For some reason, I did as she said. I even moisturized my entire body.
We went to our go to place, a hole in the wall pub called The Coachman. It was a popular place with a rock and roll kind of vibe. Although it looked rough on the outside, the inside was a friendly and cozy atmosphere that always set me at ease. I felt in my element surrounded by the red cushioned booths and denim clad men. The music was always upbeat and it was the perfect place to meet new people.
Carly and I sat at the bar together, and I had my feet resting on the gold footrest that ran along the front of the bar. The bartender balanced his duties well, sliding us new cocktails when he saw that our drinks were empty. He took orders like a machine, processing the information over the loud music and passing off drinks in jaw dropping time. He wasn’t bad looking either.
Carly bumped one shoulder into me. “Come on, pick a different one. An attainable one.”
“Are you saying he’s out of my league?”
“No, he’s definitely within your league. But he’s married.” She made wide eyes at his left hand which rested on the bar a few feet away from us as he took another drink order.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And a homewrecker you are not.” She spun herself around on her barstool and leaned backwards, crossing her hands over her knees. “Hmm. Look at this buffet.”
“Stop it.” I was humiliated. My cheeks were burning and it wasn’t from the alcohol.
Carly grinned. “You’re such a prude. You’ve had sex with one guy. One guy, Veronica. And it’s been how long? He dumped you nine months ago? And you’re still too afraid to talk to someone who doesn’t have a vagina.”
“Ugh.” I put my forehead in my hand and tried to shrink into myself.
“I’m not saying you’re pathetic,” Carly continued, “I’m just saying you need a release. You need to move on. Jason was a dick. And you wasted a lot of time with him. Seven years, to be precise. Just talk to a guy. Feel what it’s like to flirt again. It’s good for you. I’m worried.” When she confessed her concern her voice softened and she put her drink down. “Seriously. How long are you going to pine after Jason?”
“I’m not pining.”
“You are. You still have his number in your phone. You still have all your text messages from him saved. Memories are good to keep, but not when someone walks all over you like that.”
I bit my lip. She was right. Of course she was right. Jason, my high school sweetheart and the man I thought I was destined to marry, had cheated on me. And not just a little fling towards the end of our seven years; he had been having several affairs with several women for years. I had never suspected a thing. I had my whole life mapped out in my head. My pinterest account was full of wedding dress pictures and ideas for venue decorations. I was juggling baby names and gushing every time I saw a baby out in public. I had been convinced that I finally had everything figured out, and I was going to live the perfect life with the perfect man.
Then it all blew up in my face.
Carly suddenly turned back to the bar and caught the bartender’s attention. When she asked for her bill I raised an eyebrow. “You just going to leave me here?”
“No, no, of course not. But, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m pushing you to do something that just isn’t your cup of tea. It’s all good. Let’s just go home and have a quiet night in. We can paint our toes. What do you think?” The smile that was plastered on her face was just as unbelievable as her sudden change of heart.
“Uh-”
She handed the bartender a fifty dollar bill and hopped off the stool, pulling me down with her. “I just have to pee first,” she said, “come with?”
“Okay, Carly, are you alright? What’s gotten into-”
“No time, really gotta pee, come on.” She pulled me forward by the hand. The urgency in her dumbfounded me and I began to follow. Then I heard a familiar drawling voice order a beer behind me.
I stopped walking. Carly looked back at me with pleading eyes.
I looked over my shoulder.
It was him. I couldn’t see his face as he wove through bodies and tables in the bar. He moved with the same lazy gait that he had that night. Women’s eyes all around flicked to him as he cut between them. Men eased out of his way when they saw him coming. He didn’t seem to notice the immediate reactions of those surrounding him. It was clear that he had one purpose: get to the bar.
My eyes lingered on the line of his broad shoulders and how his muscles moved beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. I couldn’t help but let my gaze fall to his bare forearms. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing arms decorated in veins and bare wrists. The rest of him was impossible to see through the sea of people in the bar. He was hidden behind red dresses and swirling skirts as he made his way through a few intoxicated dancers.
I still couldn’t see his face as he grew closer. Carly was tugging on my elbow and pleading with me to go with her. He was too close for me to miss my chance to see what he really looked like. I would finally have the opportunity to find out if he was really worth all the fantasizing that had consumed me for the last week.
I pulled my elbow free of her grip when McCoy reached the bar and settled down on to one of the stools. He chose one that had no one on either side of him. I heard his drawling voice over the crowd when he ordered a beer. Carly’s fingers closed over my hand and she gave it a squeeze.
He took his beer from the bartender and turning his back to me as he leaned against the bar to survey the room. He was dressed casually; a long sleeve black shirt on top of dark denim. I needed to see his face. The compulsion was uncontrollable, and I slipped my hand free of Carly’s and returned to the bar, moving to stand in front of McCoy.
His dark eyes slid down slowly to me. I stood looking up at him and felt immediately intimidated. His jaw was sharp and covered in a couple days growth of black hair. The soon to be beard met up with his black hair that cascaded down over his forehead and hung just above his lashes. He shifted his weight and rested his left foot behind him on the gold footrest t
hat trimmed the bar. “You need something?” He asked, unblinking.
Carly was beside me again. “Nope, she’s fine. Just thought she knew you from somewhere. She’s a dolt, sometimes, don’t mind her. Come on,” she hissed in my ear. She tugged at my arm.
He raised his beer to his lips and took a slow mouthful. Then he nodded his chin at Carly. “You were the one spilling your dinner on the grass the other night.”
Carly flushed an astounding shade of pink. I felt her embarrassment, but couldn’t make my thick stupid tongue work in my mouth. He was a God. He was a man of incredible height and even more incredible good looks. I had thought Jason was attractive. McCoy made my ex look like a toad.
When neither of us spoke, the firm line of his mouth softened and one corner curled upwards for the briefest moment. It lent a warmth to his eyes that vanished as soon as it appeared. “No shame in drinking too much,” he said, his eyes leaving us and surveying the rest of the bar again. “Must say I’m surprised to see you both out again so soon after all that. It’s either bravery or stupidity. Or a bit of both.” His gaze fell to us again and that ‘almost a smile’ twitch graced his lips once more.
I wasn’t sure if he was being rude. I found that I didn’t really care.
Carly laughed nervously and tugged me again. “Well, I know which one it is,” she said, and then muttered under her breath, “it’s the latter. Now let’s go before you show him your O-face.”
I blinked and my cheeks burned the same bright red as Carly’s.
McCoy chuckled and I was horrified to realize that he had heard what Carly said. He took another swig from his beer and put it down behind him on the bar. The lazy sprawl of his body and the way he braced himself against the bar was doing all kinds of things to me. His eyes and his bare forearms made me feel like my knees were going to buckle beneath me at any moment. I wondered if he had the same effect on Carly.
Finally I found my voice. “Thank you,” I blurted out in a weak voice.
His right eyebrow arched ever so slightly.
“For helping us the other night. If you hadn’t been there we would have been-”
He waved his hand at me to make me stop talking. I did. I succumbed to silence before him and waited for him to answer. He took his time. When he finally found what he wanted to say, it surprised me. “You would have been in over your heads. Maybe next time have the mind to call a cab.”
Had he been anyone else, I would have given him an earful. I would have mustered all my ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ attitude and told him that there was nothing wrong with two girls walking home. But my lips stayed closed and I stood there staring at him like an idiot as he rolled lazily away from us and plucked his beer off the counter. I watched him make his way to the patio outside on the street front, where he lit a cigarette at a table by himself.
I looked over at Carly.
“He’s a jackass,” she said.
“I know.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“Maybe.”
Carly grabbed both my hands in hers and shook them. “Don’t be one of those stupid girls, Veronica. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the broody attitude and the body and his eyes and-” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “He’s hot. Okay. He’s super hot. But he’s also a dick who happens to hang around with guys who tried to load us into their car the other night. You want to throw down with him?”
“I just want to know more about him.”
Carly threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Fine. Do what you want. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you go over there… whatever. I’m going home.”
I didn’t try to stop her. I watched her leave and hail a cab outside. Then I went out on to the patio and stood in front of his table as he took a draw from his cigarette. When he looked up at me he didn’t look surprised. His expression told me that he had expected this. He put his boot on the seat of the chair across the table from him and pushed it back. “Sit,” he said.
I sat. I crossed my legs and left my hands on my lap. I looked anywhere but at him as he finished his cigarette. When he put it out in the ashtray between us he rested his forearms on the table. “Where’d your friend go?”
“Home.”
He nodded- at least, that’s what I assumed the miniscule tilt of his head was. Every gesture was so subtle they were hard to catch. I paid close attention as he scratched the stubble on his jaw. “She doesn’t approve.”
His intuition was impressive. “No, she doesn’t.”
He fell back in his chair and stretched out one of his legs. “She’s smart.”
“Sometimes.”
His shoulders moved up and down in the smallest shrug I had ever seen.
“Why did you help us the other night?” I asked. I couldn’t help it. The encounter had terrified and confused me. The three men, despite their malicious intentions, made sense to me. Their motives were clear, their character was clearer. But McCoy was different than them. He dressed differently, spoke differently, and stood up to three of them to turn down something that was likely to work out in his favor. If he was as terrible as Carly suspected, why would he have bothered sticking his neck out like that for two drunk girls?
“Why does it matter?” He asked.
It didn’t. I shouldn’t have even asked him.
My silence seemed to irritate him. “Look,” he said, his eyes narrowing on me, “I don’t want your gratitude. I don’t want your big eyes looking at me like I’m sort of hero. I wasn’t in the mood to fuck two drunk girls who could barely walk.”
“You’re lying,” I whispered, surprising myself.
Apparently I surprised him more. He stared at me with hard eyes and I grew anxious. He leaned in close to me again. I could smell the beer on his breath and the remnants of his cigarette between us. “I’m no liar. If I bed a woman it’s not like that. She’d better want it.”His eyes made a full sweep of my body and he showed me his teeth for the first time in a smile that made me shiver. “She’d better beg me for it, or she’s not worth it.”
Had we not been sitting on a patio surrounded by dozens of other people I would have sat on my knees at his feet and begged. The urge both repulsed me and turned me on. I was powerless against the feelings he sent through my body. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted Jason. McCoy made Jason feel like he had never meant anything to me. He had been a boy. A boy with nothing to offer me except for lies hidden behind bouquets of flowers every other week.
McCoy made me feel something again. But he also made me feel sorry for him. I hadn’t realized it, but part of what made me so curious about him was how mysterious he was. He wasn’t someone who seemed jovial nor dejected. He was distant, somewhat angry and cold. “What’s your real name?” I asked.
He laughed and drew away from me. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other rested at the base of his beer bottle on the table. “You’re a different kind of girl, I’ll give you that.” He lifted his beer as if in a toast to me before taking a final mouthful. “Why do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“You tell me yours. Come on now, what is it?”
“I’m Veronica.”
“You can call me McCoy.”
“It suits you,” I told him.
We stared at each other for a minute; everything about him was so peculiar. He caught the attention of a waitress and ordered himself another beer. He looked over to me and nodded expectantly. I ordered a glass of wine.
When we both had a new drink in our hands he started asking more questions, and we went back and forth.
“I’m an assistant to an editor,” I told him when he asked me what I did for work. “Mostly I prep her meetings and make sure everything is how she wants it. Get her coffee. Help her review manuscripts...”
“So, you’re her bitch?”
“No.”
“Yes. There’s nothing wrong with that. Just make sure that when you take her job she never see
s it coming.” His eyes sparkled deviously.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I did want her job. My sights had been set on it for the last four years. I knew that I would have the chance, eventually, to step up and fill her shoes. “What about you? What do you do for work?” When I asked the question it dawned on me that there was a chance I didn’t want to know. He affiliated with men who had the intentions of taking me home. Your social circle usual dictates what kind of person you are, at least that’s what I’ve been told.
“Right now I’m working a shitty construction job. Got a buddy who hooked me up.”
“You don’t seem like a construction crew kind of guy.” Which was true, he didn’t. When he gave me a skeptical look I shrugged. “I bet you don’t own anything by carhart, and you’ve probably never worn regular blue levis. I’d bet money on it.”
His smile touched his eyes again and he laughed lightly. “Fair enough. It may not be my first choice.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Why do you care?” His tone was defensive, irritated.
“I’m just making conversation,” I said, “you know, conversation? Where you ask people questions and find out why they do what they do? If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.”
He thought about it for a moment. “I’m doing it because I have a record and no one will hire me. Does that tell you why I do what I do?”
He was trying to scare me. It was working a little bit. But it didn’t quench my curiosity. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook right when he was finally starting to really talk to me. Carly’s little voice in my head told me to leave it alone. I didn’t want to. “You went to prison?”
“That’s usually what people mean when they say they have a record.” His tone was flat and he wouldn’t look at me as he finished his second beer.
“What did you do?”
“Why do you assume I’m guilty?”
