“Well . . .” She was obviously uncomfortable now that Kevin had pressured her, avoiding his stare and playing with her napkin. When the waitress delivered her Cosmopolitan she looked relieved. After a long sip, she continued. “She was a spoiled rich girl, but then again, not so much. No offense, it’s just that I always felt a little something for her. She had her sweet moments.
“Jesse tried very hard to live up to what her parents wanted. By all counts, her dad was an asshole and her mother's plan was a marriage to money.” Dana stopped and shook her head. “I may be poor, but at least I’m free from that crap. The thing is . . . Jesse actually seemed happy with Ryan. I’m so surprised they’re not together any longer. She thought she'd found her prince.”
Ooh, I don’t like that. Why didn’t I take Kevin’s cue to stop talking about all this?
“Why did they break up?” My stomach protested.
Kevin cleared his throat.
“Well, I’m guessing it’s because of you.” Dana’s smile was warm and seemed sincere.
“How long ago was that?” I pressed on.
“Oh, about—”
“There was no breakup,” Kevin interrupted. “Before you, Ryan wasn’t exclusive with any woman. They were only friends who went to social events together.”
What a doll you are, Kevin; I don't believe you, but still, that was gallant.
“I get that, but when was the last time they were together?” I looked at Dana.
“Late April,” she offered. "Or maybe early May. Somewhere in there."
“Is she still trying to find money or did she find her calling?”
“She studied at UCSF and got her masters. Now she has a few art galleries in the city."
Oh damn. Accomplished, smart, beautiful . . . I'm a sinking ship.
Kevin gave Dana another look. It was obvious it meant she should stop talking. She did—immediately.
“Like Ryan said earlier, he and Jesse were only college friends,” Kevin repeated. “They saw a lot of each other at one time, but they were never serious.”
“And yet, I just heard that apparently, she was very happy with Ryan,” I recounted. “Obviously, he must have done something to make her feel that way, right Dana?”
“He treated her really well,” she nodded.
“Uh-huh,” I said suspiciously. “How well?”
“Well, enough of this!” Kevin tried to change the subject and I wouldn’t let him.
“Was she the girlfriend who tried to kill herself?” I looked at the both of them for an answer.
Their eyes were wide in obvious surprise.
“Where did you hear that?" Kevin asked, his expression showing more than just concern.
“I have my sources," I refused to give up Tara or Alex.
“I don’t know.” Kevin looked away as if he were shutting down to avoid my question.
“I never heard that, Nicky,” Dana answered.
“What are you thinking about?” I tapped Kevin's hand.
That look on Kevin’s face says there’s more to it.
“Just an evening I had a few nights back.” He looked at me and then cast his eyes down at the table.
“You got caught with your hand in the cookie jar,” I teased.
“No, Nick. You don't need to about her. There's nothing there, so . . ." I thought I saw him shiver.
“Thanks, but I worry about everything,” I forced a laugh.
Kevin shifted into another gear and began telling jokes.
I was relieved the conversation changed direction.
It had become uncomfortable and tense. I was left more insecure than when the evening began. Ultimately, Kevin stole my attention with his sense of humor. I was glad we were sitting next to each other.
Even so, I couldn’t shake Jesse from my mind.
Chapter 19
Voices
The band's lead singer had announced to patrons the chance to sing a song of their choice onstage with live music a few minutes earlier. It was about to begin. Jenise immediately stood and yelled for me to get up and sing, encouraging everyone at her end of the table to cheer.
“I’d love to hear you sing again.” Ryan sat down next to me.
Well it's about time.
“Are you okay?" I tried not to show my frustration.
"Yes," he kissed my hand. "Thank you for understanding."
"I don't, though."
"I know." He caressed my hair. "I know this evening hasn't been what you expected. I'll make it up to you and fill you in on everything after we leave."
"Is my sister okay?”
“She’s doing fine; just drunk off her ass,” he frowned. "I tried to replace the beer with O'Doul's but you can't fake the good stuff."
“Oh shit.” I partially stood trying to look at her. “I’ve never been out with her like this. That's why I wanted to sit next to her." I shot him a hard look.
"You really think sitting next to her would have changed anything?" Ryan returned the challenge.
"Probably not," I gave in. "Still . . ."
“There’s no sin in letting go on a night out. She seems in control of herself. You can't drink like that consistently and hold it together at school the way she has."
"True," I agreed.
"Come on, Nick. We’re here to have fun." He took me in his arms and gave me a kiss so hard that we smacked lips when he lifted off of me.
Well I admit that was fun!
“I guess I could do one song.”
The knowledge that Jenise had enough alcohol to get drunk unnerved me. But once again, I chose to stay passive rather than address it. No need to rock the boat—ever.
The things that others took for granted—getting buzzed, tipsy, or full on drunk—gave me extreme anxiety.
When I went to friends’ parties, I became the person who made sure they were okay while they drank. Instead of holding a beer, I held a can of soda. And instead of holding a glass of whiskey or vodka, a favorite with my friends, I’d hold a beer so I’d be left alone and then pour it out somewhere when no one watched.
I was the bodyguard who made sure boys didn't take advantage of the girls or get carried away with their drunkenness at parties. I saw to it that no one was made fun of or bullied when they had too much to drink. I’d hide keys, pull distributor caps, loosen car batteries and saw to it that no one drove home intoxicated.
When we’d visit my parents' friends or relatives and they had liquor cabinets or bars in their homes, I was on edge. I'd watch Dad the entire visit, hoping he wouldn’t take a drink.
I was amazed that people had alcohol out in the open. Free for the taking around our house meant only until it was gone. There were no “cocktails.” Dad drank the entire bottle—straight. He didn’t need mixers.
Being tense around alcohol was my phobia—I knew that. My fear surrounding social drinking was so deep I wasn’t certain I’d ever be able to enjoy a glass of wine with a nice dinner. I didn't know how. All I saw was the inability to stop once the first sip was taken. We couldn’t even go out to eat and relax as a family. When the waiter’s first words were, “Can I get you a cocktail,” we'd all cringe, hoping Dad wouldn't say yes.
I could see my mother tighten everywhere.
My sister and I picked up on it.
Her body language was definitely contagious.
I never could shake the bug.
I got up to walk toward the stage. Ryan spun me so that I fell back against him and into his lap. He tipped me over. His warm lips pressed against mine. The table whistled and hollered. After he released me, it was as if I floated across the floor.
“Do you know, Not About the Money?” I asked the bandleader.
“You got it,” he said. “We’ll give you four chords as a lead-in.”
It was an upbeat song by Jessie J that wasn't about sex or romance. Instead, it encouraged people to shout out, have fun, and grab the hands of the people around them in friendship.
It surprised me that most
everyone in the club participated. Even the men and women at my table joined in. A new shot of confidence skidded through me. I finished the song to applause and a request for another.
“Guess you’re up again,” the guitar player said. “What’s your next choice?”
“Do you think I could get away with an old Beatles song?”
“Everybody loves the Beatles, darlin’. What’ll it be?”
“Nothing corny, just . . . well, I’m thinking of an early one, I Should Have Known Better."
“Cool choice. I love that song—Hard Day’s Night Album—classic!” He set his fingers in position on his guitar. “We’ll come in and rescue you if it doesn’t go over.”
“Let me know if this is too old school,” I announced. “If you don’t like it, I’ll do something else. When I discovered the Beatles, this became my favorite.”
The rhythm was upbeat and the lyrics spoke of hopelessly falling in love, despite knowing better. I looked at Ryan as I sang. Sometimes I was coy and acted shy. Then I'd shake my hair, just as I’d seen in video clips of the Beatles when they first began their career.
Singing always made me lose my inhibitions. It was as if I'd faded from reality and was performing in private. Whether I was in my bedroom, at school, a ballpark, or this club, I loved it.
“Your voice is really good.” A man who seemed to be in charge pulled me aside as I finished.
“Thank you.” I felt heady. “I love singing.”
“I can tell. I’m actually looking for a back-up female singer who isn’t shy about taking the lead occasionally. Interested in an audition?”
“I’m flattered, but no thank you,” I glanced at the stage. “Actually, I’m really flattered—I’m shocked! I’m not dismissing your invitation lightly. It's just that I won’t have the time. Next spring is my first year at Stanford’s business school. One of their conditions is to also continue my charity work and I'm afraid that leaves out singing.”
“That’s too bad." He turned on the Karaoke machine and announced the band was taking a break. "I’m surprised.”
“Why?” I stepped to the side with him.
“Well, for one, you look like you’re in your third or fourth year of college. Had I known you weren’t twenty-one I wouldn’t have offered you the gig. By the way, how did you get in? Those two brutes at the door are damn thorough about checking ID.”
“My boyfriend.” I pointed to Ryan. “You won’t tell the manager, will you?”
“No,” he laughed. “My real surprise is that you’re studying business. It doesn’t seem like a good match. You’re creative . . . wouldn’t a major in business kill that juice in you?”
“I’m actually studying an aspect of it that encourages creativity. Guess I won't know until I try it.” I was embarrassed at the attention. When I looked away, I saw Ryan watching me.
Women are standing right in front of him, trying to get his attention with their dazzling bodies and skimpy dresses, and he’s watching me—or did I just happen to have good timing?
“I also like to write,” I informed. “Maybe I can write a song for you some day!”
“Writer, singer . . . here’s my manager’s card. My information is on the back. Call us if you change your mind. Some of the venues we play admit eighteen and over. I’m Gabriel, by the way.” He extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Gabriel,” I replied. “Nicky.” I returned the gesture and put his card in my pants pocket.
On the way back to my seat, Jenise gave me a hug.
“That’s my sissy,” she said loudly to everyone around her. “Isn’t her voice beautiful?” Her end of the table buzzed with congratulations. Sean hung all over my sister with drunken affection.
“You were wonderful up there,” Ryan fawned. When I sat down, he put his arm around my waist.
Because of my stage performance, it seemed that I had commanded a different respect and attention from the people who sat near me.
Henry and his friend had long since vacated their seats and others filled in, condensing the table into a smaller group. Now when I joined their conversation, I heard "Interesting," and "Hadn't thought about that,” and “Good point.”
It was a small victory and helped me to understand that I’d made judgments too quickly. Just because a few jerks were rude, it didn’t mean they were representative of the entire table. I needed to soften my harsh and protective first impressions. Glad that I hadn’t lashed out earlier, I looked at the lesson in front of me.
I realized the brush that paints everyone shouldn’t color in the same shade.
Chapter 20
On Stage
“Where’s Dana?” I asked Kevin.
“She ran into someone she knew.”
“Are you and she—”
“No." He gave me a playful wink. “We’re not.”
As the evening continued, I spent a lot of time trying to get to know Ryan's friend. I found him both intellectually challenging and funny. The way he flirted with everyone around him wasn't offensive; instead I felt he was disarmingly warm.
“You know,” I winked back, “if you were sitting at the other end of the table, you might charm one of those pretty ladies who’ve been trying to get your attention all night.”
“Nah. Why would I be concerned with them when I’m having so much fun with you?” he put his hand on mine.
“Well . . .” Wow, fun with me? “I’m just saying you might miss a connection.”
“I’ve already made one. My new friend is more important than flirting with strangers, don’t you think?”
“Thanks." I took a sip of my iced tea. "Thank you."
"You nervous?" he prodded.
"Yeah."
"Don't be. Are you okay after what Dana said?” He looked in the direction of the front door as if she'd just walked through.
“Sort of,” I admitted cautiously. “She seemed all right, but it was hard hearing about Jesse and Ryan, especially the bell of the ball stuff and how she'd found her prince. I'm glad he was nice to her, of course I am. I wouldn't expect to hear otherwise, it's just . . . oh well. My fault for egging her on.”
“I tried to stop her . . . and you."
"I know. Curiosity got the best of me, Kevin."
"She’s got a big mouth,” he said. "I dated her a few times."
"Of course you did," I said sarcastically.
"She's nice enough; and pretty bright. Just don't tell her anything you want to stay a secret."
"Blabbermouth?"
"More than that," he hesitated, playing with his glass of iced tea. "The way she fired off the questions? Spying for a certain girlfriend of hers, I think."
"Huh. I didn't sense that." I'd questioned the same thing, but in the end didn't agree with Kevin's summary. I dabbed the moisture under my glass from where it sweated on the table. "I don’t think she meant to cause any trouble. She seemed to really miss her friendship with Jesse. On the other hand if she is spying, that sure doesn't calm my anxiety.”
And she didn’t make any moves on the men at the table.
“She's appealing to your innocence, Nick. She knows you're trying to fit in. And by the way, you don't have to try. You already do, okay? Monica doesn't give her card out to just anyone."
"Yeah, well that was because I was with Ryan, I'm sure." I looked in Kevin's eyes, but he revealed nothing. "I hate to ask—"
"Then don't," he stated plainly.
"Don't what?"
"Fall into jealousy over nothing. What's past is past."
"I don't know that I've ever met anyone who talks on and on like I do." I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you, fellow talker."
"Nice to meet you, too." Instead of shaking it, he kissed it.
"Why did Ryan leave me?" I surprised myself with the bold question. Ryan still had his arm around my shoulder. Chances were he heard me. "Between you and me? I almost got up and left. He turned his back on me twice, Kevin. I get it, sort of. Glen and Carlos needed to talk, but . . ."
"I'm sure," he nodded toward Ryan, "he'll explain it to you. It was to talk with Glen, I know that much. But . . . the thing is, Dana, Jesse . . . well, Dana really doesn’t know . . . I mean, Jesse can . . .” Kevin trailed off and stopped talking.
Ryan squeezed my shoulder.
"What was the kiss on Nicky's hand?" Ryan lifted an eyebrow at his friend.
"That's between us, shit face." He winked again at me. "If you'd been around, you would have been let in."
Kevin's a shit disturber! I like him.
I realized I hadn’t talked to my boyfriend for more than thirty minutes the entire night. The evening at the Waterfront had begun with fear and hesitation, but after experiencing a few peaks and valleys, it ended with two business cards in my pocket and the enjoyment of engaging with a new friend.
See Nicky, it’s okay to open up and let others in.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Ryan said.
"No." I grabbed his hand. "You promised you wouldn't."
"I'm not leaving to talk with anyone," he said. "This is just for you. Something special for my sweetheart."
He walked over to the band, which had come back to the stage and continued the live performances with club guests. He spoke to Gabriel, the man who'd introduced himself to me a little earlier.
“You guys! I think Ryan’s going to sing,” I said excitedly. “Does he sing, Kevin?”
“A little,” he smirked.
His friends at the table continued talking loud and paid no attention. I figured they must have seen him so many times it was old news. Since I hadn’t, I wanted a better view.
“Where sha goin’ little sistah?” Jenise's words were slurred. Her eyes had that familiar lazy and glazed look that comes with too much alcohol.
“I’ll be back,” I squeezed her shoulders. “Ryan’s singing!”
“Ooh ur lovey dovey! Did you guys know Ryan and my sissy are loves?” Jenise had the men and women around her laughing.
Whelp, I guess we're not a secret anymore. I hope I don't get in trouble with management.
“Kevin!” I yelled. “Please watch my sister.”
He nodded and sat closer to her.
Jagged Heart (Broken Bottles Series Book 3) Page 14
