by Gina Messina
Charlie shielded herself against the blustery wind and tried to keep warm. She desperately needed a cigarette after being subjected to the screaming toddler and stench of human crap. She leaned into the side of the building and cupped her hands while pressing on the lighter. She’d been trying to quit smoking but still carried a pack for stress-related emergencies. It’s definitely one of those emergencies, she rationalized when she reached for the pack of Marlborough’s she kept in her purse. When Janie pulled up curbside in her Volkswagen Jetta, Charlie tossed the butt on the ground and jumped into the warm car.
“I can’t wait to get to bed. You wouldn’t believe the flight I had!” she told Jane who was dressed like she was ready to go clubbing.
“We're not going back to my apartment!” she remarked with disgust. “Since when did you turn into a fucking soccer mom?”
Charlie rubbed her cold hands together, hoping the friction would restore some feeling in them and blew hot air into her closed palms. “I’m not dressed for a night out and I’ve got a splitting headache, plus, I’m wearing flats.”
Janie waved her off with her hand. “Grow the fuck up. You look great. It’s Saturday night, for God’s sake, and I haven’t seen you in ages. Besides, I already promised my roommates I’d meet them at Cuba Libre.”
“Why Cuba Libre?” It was the last thing Charlie wanted to do and the last place she wanted to do it in.
“Because I'm the one who’s driving and I don't want to stay home like a fucking loser.”
Charlie had no interest in going to that dark seedy bar which was known for its Cuban inspired drinks and loud Salsa music. It was not where she wanted to spend her Saturday night; especially dressed the way she was and wearing flip-flops no less!
“And I’ve got just the thing to make that headache disappear,” Janie added with a wicked grin. With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached under her seat with the other and pulled out a bong.
“Only you would be so bold as to have a bong in your car!” Charlie told her, perking up and shaking her head in disbelief.
“Call me Dr. Feel-Good,” she remarked, dissolving in peals of laughter.
This is exactly what I need to loosen me up, Charlie thought before grabbing the bong and greedily sucking up all the smoke she could fit into her lungs.
On their way to the bar, Charlie told Jane about her New Year’s Eve night and the coked-up bathroom sex that nearly brought her to Nirvana and back. “I didn’t even get his name,” she snickered, “But boy was he a good fuck!”
“Shut up!” Jane giggled. “Jesus, Charlie. You haven’t changed one bit since high school.”
By the time they entered the bar they were both stoned out of their minds. They started off the night by pounding down shots of cheap tequila. Charlie made up her mind to drown out the last twenty-four hours by drinking herself into a stupor. But, shot after shot, as she became drunker and drunker, she was even more anxious to leave. Janie, on the other hand, had no intentions of leaving. She was in rare form. No matter how much Charlie nagged her to call it a night and take her back to her place, she was having way too much fun to listen.
“Just ask the next guy who walks through the door to give you a lift,” she jokingly slurred before hopping on top of the bar and grinding to the music to the delight of every drunken man that was eyeing her from below. They were hollering for her to take off her bra. Charlie knew it wouldn't be long before she complied.
“Are you still stoned?” she called out to her best friend then sighed, knowing it would be nearly impossible to find a cab at that time of the night. She looked up at Jane with a tinge of envy and a whole lot of disgust. But then, just as she resigned herself to a long evening ahead, a rush of cold air hit her like a rude slap in the face. She looked up to see the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on standing in the doorway.
Charlie may have been drunk and stoned, but she knew a hot man when she saw one. The streetlight behind him illuminated his near perfect profile and instinctively, her eyes fell down to his feet. She saw that he was wearing a pair of black snakeskin cowboy boots. She was positive they were Stetson’s which made her eyes light up even more. She’d been wanting a brown lizard skin pair for ages. She then glanced down at her own flip-flops and cringed. There was nothing she could do about them, but the rest of her … she undid her ponytail and hurriedly swept her fingers through her dark auburn hair. After applying a coat of deep red lipstick, a shade she ordered online because a Cosmo article had confirmed that it was particularly enticing to men, and spritzing some Binaca into her mouth, she stood up. She thrust her chin in the air and more importantly, her body toward those sexy Stetson’s and the even sexier cowboy wearing them. And then Charlie did exactly what Janie had suggested just a few moments earlier.
“What’s your name?” she asked, flashing her most irresistible smile.
His eyes took her in approvingly. “I’m Sean. And you are?” he questioned, raising one eyebrow.
So far this is really going well, she thought while licking her lips, careful not smear her lipstick. “Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.” She wondered what it would be like to be fucked by him wearing nothing but those lizard skin boots. “Are you alone?” she asked with interest, peering over his shoulder to make certain.
“That depends,” he replied in a suggestive tone of voice.
“On what?”
“On whether you’ll join me for a drink.”
She lowered her eyes and said, “I have a better idea actually.”
“Oh?”
“You see my friend doesn't want to go home yet.” She nodded her head in the direction of Janie who was starting to strip down. She had her hand tangled in her shirt and was pulling on the strap of her bra. Charlie didn’t want to stick around to see them untethered. Janie had huge tits and was no doubt going to cause a stampede. Charlie had seen it happen twice before and knew she had only a small window to get the fuck out of there. Judging by the hooting and hollering that was going on, it would only be a few minutes longer before men started rushing the bar.
“She seems to be having fun,” he chuckled as he followed Charlie’s stare.
“Yes, she is, but I’d like to get out of here and go someplace quiet and more … private.” She let the word linger in the air between them before asking, “Do you think you can help me?”
He smiled and just like that she found herself heading uptown to Janie’s apartment on Rivers Edge Drive in his tiny silver Porsche Coupe. Sean was a big guy (too big for that tiny car, she had thought) and was very broad in the shoulders. He had ice blue eyes and sandy brown hair that dipped down over one eye and the map of Ireland was written all over his face. Three things stood out to her at that moment: he was an athlete (he happened to be wearing a swim club team jacket from Haverford Prep), he was alone (there was no female swooning all over him, which she considered to be odd since he was so very handsome), and he knew his shoes (Stetsons were the best!)
Riding in his car while feeling the strength of his hand as it traveled up her thigh, it was not even remotely conceivable that five years later she would be sitting beside him at the Metropolitan Club as his new bride and with her back against the same glass window she and David had been so intimate with. In hindsight, had she known where she was headed, she would have willed those crystal festooned dragonfly flip-flops to spout real wings and she would have flown away. Charlie would have saved herself.
“Charlie, Charlie!” she heard Dr. Harrison, calling out her name.
“What?” she answered loudly, coming out of her trance.
“You were starting to tell me about Sean. Where did your mind go?”
“I’m sorry,” she faltered, shaking the fog out of her head and looking around in a confused way. “Maybe we should wait until next week?”
“Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay, this is bullshit! I think I want to stop now.”
Dr. Harrison looked at her caref
ully and said, “If that's what you want. But I’m not letting you off that easily.”
Charlie shifted uneasily on the sofa. Neither had Sean…
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’m not afraid of heights, have you seen my shoes?”
Carrie Bradshaw
As promised, Dr. Harrison didn’t forget so easily, as much as Charlie had hoped she would. The very next week, at the start of their session, she asked her to talk about the night she’d met Sean.
“I need another minute or two,” she requested, hesitating, her voice shaky. “My throat is parched. Can I get some water?”
Dr. Harrison arched an eyebrow, questioning her ulterior motives. It was obvious she didn’t believe a word Charlie uttered. No doubt she was thinking that she was witnessing typical symptoms of avoidance. Charlie felt an overwhelming urge to slap her doctor in the face. But she didn’t. Instead, as soon as she was handed a bottle of water, she took a thirst-quenching sip and knew there was nothing else to do but finish her story. She shuddered inwardly, lost in concentration, and called to mind that ill-fated ride in Sean’s little silver sports car that hadn’t been much bigger than a sardine can.
“Here we are,” she had declared, when they pulled up to the curb of Rivers Edge drive near the Philadelphia Art Museum. “Home sweet home.” She turned toward him and noticed that he was looking at her expectedly. Charlie smiled, then grazed her hand across his and said, “Thanks for the lift.” She knew she was being a tease but somewhere between leaving the bar and parking in front of Janie's apartment building, she’d decided that she wouldn't be sleeping with him, after all. She was just too jet lagged to put forth the effort.
He apparently had other ideas and turned towards her, while leaning in closer. When she pulled away from him and reached for the door handle, he questioned, “You're really going to leave me like this?” which was clearly translation for: You’re going to leave me with blue-balls?
She turned back to face him with an innocent expression on her face, knowing full well she was being a tease. “I don't understand. What exactly did you expect?”
“I don't know … a little more gratitude,” he muttered back, clearly pissed off.
“Gratitude, huh?” she seductively imitated him. Her hands reached over to grab the lapel of his shirt and she pulled him into her and her lips found his then she kissed him. For the next few minutes, they kissed softly until she felt him his hand reach under her blouse and expertly work the hooks of her bra.
“I think that’s enough for one night, thank you,” she blurted out while pulling away. She was starting to get annoyed at his aggressive behavior.
“I don't think it's enough.” His voice was insistent and commanding. It turned her both off and on at the same time.
“I really should be going. It's getting late.” She reached for the door handle again but his hand suddenly darted in front of her, grabbing her own hand in his and squeezing it hard.
“Aren’t you even going to give me your number?” he asked undeterred. Charlie cursed inwardly and contemplated giving him a bogus number before she brilliantly came up with an excuse.
“I would, but I live in Manhattan,” she smugly responded, fairly confident that this was a valid reason, then quickly added, “I’m really not interested in seeing someone geographically challenged. Relationships are difficult enough as it is without having to deal with trains or buses or long car rides.” It was all true. She barely gave relationships with guys who lived in her neighborhood, let alone the same zip code, a fighting chance.
“Well then that’s rather fortuitous, isn’t it? Because I live in Manhattan, too,” he boasted. “I’m only in Philly this weekend for my five-year high school reunion at Haverford Prep.” He looked at her intently. “But who said anything about a relationship?”
Charlie scowled then ruffled through her purse looking for a pen. Digging into the depths of her bag, all she could come up with was a dried out Nars lip liner that had seen better days. She scribbled her number on an old crumpled up shopping receipt from Bergdorf Goodman’s and all but tossed it into his lap, then opened the car door and attempted to flee into the cold aired night.
Just before she flung herself onto the sidewalk, he grabbed her sleeve. “I’ll give you a call, then.”
“Yeah sure,” she mumbled as she slammed the car door.
Even though the kiss had been electric and his boots alluring, she had no interest in seeing him again. She was fairly sure she saw a glimmer of anger in his ice blue eyes when she half heartily waved goodbye and nonchalantly blurted out, “See you around.” He peeled off, with his tires hissing on the slippery asphalt.
“So did he call?”
Charlie gave her a disbelieving look before answering. “Of course he called! How the fuck do you think I married him? Through fucking mental telepathy?”
“Now, Charlie. There’s no need to be so aggressive,” her doctor reminded her.
“Then don’t ask such stupid questions. Your killing me! I thought you went to fucking Yale!”
“We’re losing focus here,” she stated, dismissing her temper tantrum. “Let’s move forward, why don't we. Tell me about the call.”
“We made a date when he called a few weeks later. I happened to be in the middle of giving my toes a much needed polish change so my mind was somewhere else when I answered the phone. I had no idea who he was, but I can tell you he didn’t waste any time reminding me.”
Charlie could practically hear his pompous voice right there in Dr. Harrison’s office. It gave her the willies.
“Who’s this?” she had questioned when she picked up the phone on the fifth ring. She never answered her cell phone on anything less than the third ring. Two rings or less was the sign of a desperate woman and she was anything but desperate.
“It’s Sean, remember?” he reminded her, “The guy who gave you a lift to your friend’s house in Philly a few weeks ago.”
Charlie was in the midst of putting a gorgeous shade of pale lavender on her little toe which required a great deal of concentration, so she half-heartedly mumbled back, “ahh.”
“I called for that ‘thank you’ you promised me.”
How many times does this creep need to be thanked? she had thought to herself during the awkward silence that lingered in the air.
He then murmured in a low voice filled with desire, “Surely you must remember me because I haven’t been able to forget you, or those lips.”
He certainly had a way with words and she had to admit his persistence and aggressiveness were two qualities she found attractive in a man.
“I figure you owe me a drink, Charlotte, for my random act of kindness. And I’m not going to take no for an answer!”
Charlie had thought it was super cute, the way that he called her Charlotte. Everyone always called her Charlie; from the moment she was born, she was just Charlie.
“Sean kept me on the phone for over an hour. By the end of the conversation I’d agreed to a date the following Thursday at La Palapa off of Union Square.”
“I know the place,” her doctor surprisingly admitted. Charlie tried to conjure up the image of her shrink in that college environment sporting the three-carat emerald cut diamond that sat on her finger and sipping a frozen daiquiri through a thick, brightly colored plastic straw; but it just didn’t come home. Her Birkenstock’s though, would fit right in there!
“Then you know it’s a far cry from the Metropolitan Club,” she laughed while picturing the noisy NYU crowd, cheap margaritas and cheesy Mexican food that made the restaurant so popular with college students on a tight budget.
“So why do you suppose you made a date with him even though you say had no interest in seeing him again?” she narrowed her eyes and questioned.
Charlie shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not really sure. There was something about him that was so cocky. It’s as if he had this preconceived notion that just because he’d given me a ride, I owed him something. And he actually
made me believe that I did! For some reason, a small part of me was intrigued by his bounding confidence.”
On the night of her date, Charlie had taken little interest in the clothes she wore which was highly unusual for her. Normally she took great pains to look hot and evocative. But that night, just a simple pair of jeans and a white cable knit sweater were all that she threw on, though she did wear a pair of sexy thigh high suede boots she’d picked up in the East Village a few days earlier. She drew the line on wearing frumpy shoes. She arrived a half hour earlier than they’d planned on meeting so was able to secure a small table by the window before the restaurant got too crowded.
Charlie ordered a frozen Margarita and then sat back and waited. She was concerned she wouldn’t recognize Sean. She was horrible at remembering random guys she picked up in bars. After a while, they were all a blur to her, like trees whizzing by in a moving car. And to be fair, the night she’d met him, not only had she been stoned, but there had been a lot of tequila shots, too. She did remember the Stetson boots (when it came to shoes she had a memory like an elephant) and his blue eyes. That was going to have to be enough to go by. So, to be sure she had the best chance of jogging her memory, she sat facing the door, eyeing each single man as they entered. Finally, almost a fucking hour after they were supposed to meet, a man walked in who was visibly Sean. As soon as she saw him, she knew. He oozed self-confidence as he swaggered over to where she was sitting. Even his stride was cocky and she could tell from the determined expression on his face that there was no doubt in his mind he felt she was his for the taking.
“I’m guessing things didn't go so well that night?” Dr. Harrison asked.
“It was hands down the worst experience of my life!”
“How so?”
“Even though Sean walked directly to where I was sitting and even though he looked right at me, he barely acknowledged my presence. He took off his trench coat, draped it around the chair and sat down.”
