Drunk on Love

by S. L. Scott

  “Oh God, please don’t ever say anything like that again. Gross.”

  “Stop being ridiculous. We’re all adults here. Sex is a natural part of living a full life.”

  “Mommm. No. Stop.” She laughs and I think I catch my dad sliding his hand up and down her thigh. Ew. I stand. “Look. I’m going to be very frank with you. There is a girl, a woman actually, that I am interested in. She’s beautiful, and tastes like vanilla ice cream on a hot August day. She carries the color of the changing leaves at the end of summer in her eyes. And without a doubt, what I want to do to her perfect mouth is probably illegal in most states.” The sins she makes me want to commit make my dick ache.

  “Virginia’s beauty is more than skin deep.” Deep. God, I want to fuck her so bad. “She’s kind and thoughtful. Spirited, and when she looks at me, she sees the person I want to be, the person she believes I can be, and damn do I want to be that guy for her.”

  I didn’t plan on breaking out into some lovesick soliloquy, but here I am, standing in an empty bar pouring out all those cramped emotions I’ve been pocketing onto a table in front of my parents and Leo. When I look up, Clive and Eddie are standing near the back door with boxes of scotch in their arms. Leo starts a slow clap and soon the scotch is set down and I’m getting the worst of golf clap ovations. When my parents stand and join in, the applause builds.

  Flipping everyone off, I laugh. “I really hate you guys.” I don’t and they know it, but I hate this shiny happy shit. Kind of. Sort of. Only when I’m at the center of it.

  My mom comes around the table, and says, “Bring Virginia over for dinner sometime. We’d love to meet her.”

  My dad claps me on the back, and says, “Or better yet, kiss her and seal that deal on New Year’s. You know what they say about that holiday. Whatever you’re doing at midnight on New Year’s Eve, is what you’ll be doing all year long.”

  If that’s the case, I can think of a million other things other than kissing I’d like to be doing with her at midnight. Or to her. Or in her. Or her to me. Or together. I think that’s what he means. Be together. #MFEO and all that junk.

  I follow my parents as they head for the door. I’m thinking they’ve had enough of our antics to hold them over for quite some time. “Thanks for coming to see me. I actually feel better, more determined to make this thing with Virginia less complicated and more simple.”

  “When it’s right, it’s easy.” She hugs me at the door. “I’ve never seen you with that look of love in your eyes before. It looks good on you.”

  I’m not one for blushing, but the embarrassment I feel makes my face feel hot. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re welcome. Now go get the girl.” Her hands go up in a silent cheer just like she did when I was ten and won the regional spelling bee. I might be shaking my head, but my mom is the best.

  My dad adds, “And try kissing first. That tends to win a lady’s heart. Save the illegal stuff for the bedroom.” He gives me that buddy-buddy wink. “But if you do get yourself in a spot of trouble, call me and I’ll bail you out.”

  “You know I didn’t really mean I would do something to her that would get me arrested, right?” Unless she wants me to, and then who am I to deny her needs and wants. But to be on the safe side, I should probably look into where “fucking one’s mouth” falls legally in the state of New York. If it is illegal, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve committed the crime with her, but it’s hard to say no when—What the fuck tangent have I gone off on?

  After saying goodbye to them, I turn and see the guys still standing around watching me turn into a full on unstoppable train wreck. “Get back to work and never, I mean never, mention any of this again.”

  Clive is too busy laughing. Leo is suddenly super busy scrubbing a spot on the bar top, but I see that damn mocking grin. Eddie salutes me, and says, “You got it, boss.” He sets his box on a table, and adds, “But just so you know, the guys and I have discussed the matter and we approve.”

  “Approve of what?”

  “Virginia. She meets all the magical unicorn criteria: sexy as all get out, intelligent, and she’s really nice.”

  I want to hide from the teasing I’ve endured, but he’s right. She is sexy and smart, but it’s that last part that matters most. “She is nice.”

  “Really,” starts Clive, “she’s too good for you, so if she’s giving you a shot, you should take it.”

  “Fuck you very much, Clive.”

  “No problem. We’re here to keep your ego in check.”

  “You’re doing a solid job.”

  “That’s why we’re paid the big bucks,” Eddie jokes.

  “You’re paid the big bucks for your pretty boy faces that bring in the pretty bills.”

  We laugh. It’s good to joke with the guys. We’re more than co-workers. We’re friends. I can count on any of them if I was ever in a bind, and they know they can count on me. Walking in from the back, Romeo tugs his beanie off and asks, “What’d I miss?” “Our fearless leader is in love,” Leo asserts.

  Romeo nods, another annoying grin is on his face as if he stole the other fella’s. “It was only a matter of time before he realized it. Now that you have, Hardy, time to lock that girl down. And if you don’t, I’m sure one of us will be more than happy to.”

  “She’d never go for one of you jackoffs. Like Eddie said, she’s smart.” I head for the office. “The show’s over. My life is back off limits. Get to work and let’s kick tonight’s ass.”

  Chapter Twenty

  My dick has become hard like a dead log in winter. I just hope it won’t break. By the pain in my pants, I’m not so sure it won’t. I haven’t gone this long without having actual sex since I was in high school. Fine, college. I like to aggrandize my memories from back then. Like Virginia, I went through an awkward stage. Okay, not as awkward as her, but now I look at her photo from high school and I see the beautiful woman she’s turned into. I don’t even have to stretch the imagination. That much. She’s there under those braces, glasses, and stringy hair. If I had known her then, I would have hit on her.

  Seriously, I would have. She’s the same person.

  I don’t want to pummel V our first time together. Finding balance means one too many hand jobs in the meantime. We’ve barely texted, both of us more busy with work than we’d like as the year starts coming to a close. She’s been working late most nights and I’m working every night this week so I can get Saturday off. It’s been a good distraction.

  You know what’s not?

  Isabella Collins.

  And here I thought it would be just another Thursday night. I sense her the second she and the storm that swarms around her enter The Hideaway. Checking my watch. 9:37 p.m. There’s something about her being here at this hour on a school night that tells me trouble just walked in.

  Her eyes are on me the moment she walks in, which sucks because she catches my eyes on her. I look down quickly, pretending to wash glasses. She knows me better than I’d like to admit, though to my credit, she only really knows the old me—asshole investment advisor, modern loft with massive parties, and two thousand dollar suits. Well the suits haven’t changed. I still like a nice suit and my watch collection, but I don’t have to wear them every day. Only when I want. Wonder if I should wear my charcoal Vittori on our date. Date is used loosely since Virginia friend-zoned me last weekend. After Saturday, I’m going to be dancing in her end zone. Wait, what?

  “Hello, Hardy.”

  Looking up, I see Isabella. I’d almost forgotten about her. Almost. “Slumming, Isabella?”

  “You’re always raving about Brooklyn, so I thought I’d come visit.”

  I rest my palms on the bar, and ask, “Are you visiting the borough or me?”

  “Can’t I be doing both?”

  “You were always one for ulterior motives.”

  She slips onto the stool in front of me. “You know what I like.”

  I do. She’s predictable in every way. In
other words, she’s the complete opposite of Virginia. While making her vodka soda, I start trying to remember what attracted me to Isabella in the first place. It’s been a while since I’ve thought back to those days in detail. Mostly because so much of it was blurred by the booze. It’s funny that now that I own a bar, I drink less overall. Most days I don’t drink at all. Tonight, thanks to the woman sitting in front of me, won’t be one of those days. I twist the lime into the drink and add a lime peel curly on the top. I still have standards, even if I despise the customer.I grab a glass and pour a whiskey neat for myself. I take a good pull before setting it down, and asking, “What really brings you by?”

  “You.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of. I’ve just been thinking about you.”

  The bar is fairly calm at this time, so Clive has it handled. When I turn back to her, I say, “Don’t. Don’t think about me. You’re married. We’ve been long over.”

  Her index finger runs the rim of her glass several times. “What if we didn’t have to be?”

  “I don’t date married women.” I give the most obvious out to end this.

  “What if I wasn’t married anymore?”

  I take another long drink of the alcohol before I burst out laughing. The insult is seen in her eyes since most of her face doesn’t move. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”

  “Maybe some sympathy is in order.”

  “What game are you trying to play? We did nothing but fight.”

  “We were young.”

  “We’re not that much older. Four years.”

  “I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in that four years.” She takes a sip and then says, “I caught him fucking his secretary.” This time the glass is to her lips much longer and when the glass is set down, half is gone.

  “I’m sorry.” I mean it too. No one deserves to be cheated on and in such a cliché manner makes it worse. “Are you still together?”

  “No. I left a month ago. He’s fighting me on all fronts—financially and for custody of our son. I haven’t gotten to see him in three weeks.”

  My head is shaking in disgust before she finishes. We may not have been #MFEO but kids need both parents, even if separately. I cover her hand because I’m not heartless. I can tell she needs a friend or a bartender. This comes with the territory. “You deserve better and I have no doubt the final judgment will be in your favor.”

  Her hand covers mine. “Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”

  “Hi.”

  Just right of her, the brunette I’ve been dying to see all week is standing with a grimace on her face, her eyes on my hand that’s currently comforting Isabella. I slide it out and wipe it on my pants. “Hey, V, you’re here?” It comes out like a question though I didn’t intend it that way.

  “My apologies. Did I interrupt?” Virginia looks at Isabella before her gaze returns to me.

  I’m about to speak, but Isabella beats me to it, “Yes.”

  “No,” I correct. “No, you didn’t.” I hurry from behind the bar and come around to the front. Taking Virginia’s glove covered hand, I nod toward the back. “Want to talk in private?”

  I start to walk, but her feet stay firmly planted to the spot. “Do we need to talk in private, Hardy?”

  “What? No, I was only offering since you just got here.” I’m babbling like a guilty fucking fool. Shit. I need to fix this. “It’s good to see you.” I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek but she backs out of reach. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She sits down on the stool next to Isabella and I don’t like the looks of this at all. Until I remember that we are friends. Only friends, according to her. And since she’s all about the asshole still, I don’t owe her anything. Nothing but a drink, and a fuck on Saturday, but that’s beside the current point I’m trying to make. I start to make a Paloma and dump ice in the tall glass, but she says, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  Shit. She’s mad.

  Fortunately they use the same glass. I start pouring vodka that I personally like and give her a little extra. It’s not like she’s driving home or anything. While I’m cocktail concocting, Isabella turns to Virginia, who’s taking her coat and gloves off, and says, “Hello. I’m Isabella Treaton of Connecticut.”

  Maiden name. She used her maiden name. I think the trouble I mentioned walking in before has just become a quicksand trap. I’m not falling for it.

  “We’ve met before. When I was out with Hardy at a restaurant in the city. I’m Virginia Ryan of Manhattan.”

  How she says that with a straight face is beyond me but I’m going to give her extra special sexual love on Saturday for doing it. Isabella’s gaze head to toes her, and then says, “Manhattan. Huh? I would have surely thought one of the outer boroughs.”

  Oh shit.

  Just when Virginia is about to roar, I say, “Did you know that hippos are too dense to really be buoyant to swim so they are considered semi-aquatic animals who jog or run up to fifteen miles an hour under water?”

  Both women are staring at me, and my mind goes blank under the harsh glares. Virginia finally says, “Lowry asked me if I would be at the holiday party.”

  I grab my glass and down the rest of the whiskey. When I slam it down on the bar mat, I shake my head. I thought I was at a loss for words before, but now I have plenty I’d like to say, but seeing as this is my establishment, it would be unprofessional to use them here and now. “And what did you say?”

  “I said with bells on.”

  My neck is tight, so I bend it to the side to stretch it out before grabbing the whiskey and pouring another drink. “Maybe you should wear red.”

  “I have the perfect dress.”

  “I just bet the fuck you do.”

  Isabella says, “Hardy.” When I leave the fiery green eyes that are making my blood boil, I’m met with blues of no variation, no depth, and don’t hold my interest. “That was rude.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t live up to your standards. You’re welcome to see yourself out.”

  She looks taken aback and hurt. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not like you to be rude like this.”

  “What do you know about me? Nothing. You’re trying to rekindle a flame that I’m trying to blow out for good. Don’t you get it, Isabella? We were done long before we broke up. So I don—”

  She bursts into tears before my very eyes. Whoa!

  I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when I broke up with her. And she’s sobbing. Virginia wraps her arm around her, and says, “Come with me to the bathroom. We’ll get you some tissues.”

  Now I burst out, but not into tears. “What the fuck is going on? No. You can’t do that.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Virginia’s voice is hard, not familiar to me at all. The way she’s looking at me makes me reel back. Me? She’s scolding me?

  “Is this rhetorical?” I ask because I’m truly unsure if she wants me to answer or not.

  “You’re being an ass, Hardy.”

  “You would know since that’s what you like.”

  “Screw you.” She walks away with Isabella.

  And if I’m not totally mistaken, when Isabella looks back, I see that wicked evil grin of hers hidden beneath her fake sobs.

  “Fuck me,” I say, turning away.

  Clive says, “Man that was tough to watch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually land and then get burned, but you managed to do just that. I thought you were in the clear, and then bam!”

  “Okay. I get it. I’m fucked.”

  “Seven ways to Sunday, my friend.”

  I decide I need to make amends with Virginia and get Isabella out of my life for good. This whole scenario with her is feeling a little too reminiscent of our life together. I toss the towel on the counter and head for the bathroom.

  My poor lamb was unknowingly led to the slaughter. Virginia comes out of the bathroom with Isabella behind her. Now it’s V’s tears that
shine under the lights. I rush to her, but she pushes me away. “What happened?”

  “You know.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Don’t play innocent, Hardy. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you were never innocent.” She starts for the door, but I take her arm.

  “Wait.”

  “No,” she says and yanks her arm free. “And about Saturday.”

  “What about it?”

  She glances to Isabella who has stopped the dramatics long enough to enjoy the entertainment. “She told me what you said to her before I walked in. I know you were going to take her to your office.”

  “Choose your next words carefully, V.”

  “I don’t have to be careful. The truth speaks for itself.” She puts her jacket on and throws the gloves at my face. “Lowry asked me out for my birthday. I told him I had plans already, but I think I’ve changed my mind.” One last look. One last hate filled look is given before she says, “Goodbye, Hardy.”

  I could argue with her all day, but we’ll get nowhere with so much anger between us. So I turn mine to the woman who deserves it.

  Isabella shrugs her pointed shoulders. “She has no strength or trust. A weak woman could never stand by your side.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing that you don’t do any other night of the week.”

  “That woman,” I say, sighing as my heart bleeds through my chest while shattering inside. “She’s the only one I care about and you destroyed that. You destroyed the goodness that she had inside her.”

  “Hardy, we could be so good together again.”

  My emotions go numb, my heartbeats dull. My gaze hits her, and disgust returns. “Get the fuck out of my bar, and stay out of my fucking life.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I’m done.” With Isabella. With love. With everything.

  I walk away, leaving the blonde behind me just where she should have always stayed—in my past.