Lost Angel (The List #1)

by N. K. Love

  10:08pm

  The taxi arrives just as we both re-emerge from our bedrooms. I’ve chosen simple black skinny jeans with black kitten heels and a multi-coloured bat winged top I’d borrowed off Wills. She’s wearing flared blue faded jeans, cream wedge sandals and a cream tank top with peacock feather motifs with her usual brightly coloured accessories. We clip-clop down the pavement and the evening’s fresh air fills our lungs accelerating the effects of our earlier tipple.

  We stick to a bar called Barbed, just on the outskirts before you go too deep into the city centre and the crowds become younger and more intoxicated than we care to mingle with tonight. We’ve been here a few times before and it’s always a great friendly vibe with danceable music.

  Wills works at Stryders, which is a bar a short walk from here. She has worked there for a few years and she loves it, especially the social side to her job. Wills doesn’t need the money but she just loves the social side to her job. Plus her boss is cool and they’re pretty close. In her opinion it’s ideal for her right now. She’s ace at her job and it caters to two of her favourite hobbies; being behind the bar gives her the perfect vantage point for people watching and of course, seeking out her next conquests!

  Wills was lucky enough to win a significant amount of money on the lotto when she’d just turned 21. After listening to the advice of her assigned advisors and legal experts she did the usual formalities of paying outstanding debts and bills, bought her house and car, helped out her family and donated lots to various charities close to her huge heart. Predictably she told the publicity team that she wanted to remain anonymous. I don’t even know exactly how much she won; she doesn’t like to talk about it. As she’s not a materialistic person, I know it makes her feel uncomfortable but rationally she also knows that the remaining money, which she stuck into savings, will be useful in the future.

  I actually met Wills in 2009, a year after the lotto win, when she came into Next Chapter one afternoon. I was still learning the ropes and was behind the counter when she casually strolled up to me to ask what erotic romance novels I’d recommend. She then flashed me the mother of all smiles. I blushed, she giggled and it was best friends at first sight! There was just something about her energy that drew me in. She says now that she was just teasing me because she knew I was the new girl but I always tease back that she was really hitting on me, which of course she denies profusely. I didn’t have many friends at Uni and certainly none I’d call close but something told me that this one was a keeper, someone special.

  There’s a queue to get into Barbed but Wills knows the bouncers so after a bit of flirting on her part, we just fast-tracked entry. Once we’re inside we head straight towards the bar. There’s a dance floor to the right of us and the majority of the left side is a seating area. The actual bar is an island in the centre, serving 360 degrees around the room. The hum of chatter and vibrations from the music fill the air.

  Wills is leading the way holding my hand, manoeuvring us through the crowd. It’s not too congested and there are plenty of bartenders on hand so we soon grab two beers. I point out a space to the side of the dance floor and we make our way over. It’s close enough for us to easily toggle between the dance floor and the bar as and when we please whilst also giving us an optimum panoramic of the place. The atmosphere is buzzing; they’re playing dance music but it’s not so loud that we have to shout to be heard.

  We dance to a few songs, using it as a mask to casually give the crowds a thorough going over. Wills takes longer than me as she filters through the men and women. It’s strange for me to look at men with a different agenda. Not that I’m looking for prospective men to pull, I just want to see who tickles my fancy, if anyone.

  “This night is long overdue Wills. I always love going out with you. And thanks again for this and these.” I point to my hair and strum my nails on the beer bottle, taking a long swig.

  “Anytime babe, I just love to see that smile. Especially when it’s accompanied by that new little sparkle in your eyes.”

  “What sparkle? I don’t have a sparkle… I think it’s the alcohol glazing your vision—” Trying but failing to divert her attention as she interrupts.

  “You so do have a sparkle! I can’t be sure when it arrived, unnoticeable to the untrained eye but it’s definitely there. Oh and you need to learn to accept compliments too. As soon as you’re ready to take that ring off your finger, you will be publicly saying ‘I’m free, I’m single’ in other words giving any chancer an open invitation to try his luck with you.”

  “Shit… My wedding ring, I never take it off.” I automatically raise my left fist to my mouth and rub my lips over the stones. “How can I take it off? It’s mine. Do you think Mike’s taken his off?” Vaguely aware of my pitchy tone and how irrational I suddenly sound, I shut up. Wills looks at me with an arched eyebrow.

  “Erm... I have no idea about Mike. That’s pretty irrelevant really isn’t it? Who gives a shit whether he has or he hasn’t took his wedding ring off? Will that define what you choose to do?” I shrug. Wills is blunt but has an uncanny ability to tell it how it is without actually offending me, maybe because I love and trust her. She hadn’t offended me last year when she broached the subject of whether I’m happy in my marriage. I regret not listening to her but that didn’t mean my trust was questionable, I just thought she’d got it wrong. “Look, you’ll know when you’re ready, live in the moment remember. There’s no need to overthink this. You’ve told me more than once that you’ll never go back to him so yes, removing this ring is emotional but it’s just a formality waiting to happen.” Nothing like cutting to the chase. Leaning forward she gives me a swift kiss on the cheek to ease the blows she’s just dealt.

  “Ouch… Aaaand on that note, you save our spot Miss Soft and Sensitive, whilst me and my formality wedding ring get us another beer.” I wink at her and retreat to the bar.

  This time it’s a little busier so I have to wait. I decide to put Wills theory to the test. I remove my ring discreetly and slip it in my jeans pocket. Then I start studying the men around me; some in groups, some with dates or girlfriends or wives. I stand up straight, push out my chest and try to look confident. Pre-separation, whenever I caught the lingering look of a guy, I’d automatically flash them a friendly smile and look away politely. I don’t even know if I can be a flirtatious woman. So let’s find out because it’s my first ever opportunity to dip my toe in the pool of singletons and I’m buzzed enough to try it. Let’s see if it really is that murky puddle filled with obnoxious players I’d panicked about over the weekend.

  I find my first unsuspecting participant; around my age, cute, clean cut, stylish blue worn jeans with a loose fitting but smart indigo shirt. He is standing alone at the bar further down from me waiting to be served. We’re not close enough to engage in conversation so I know a little facial flirting is doable. Okay here goes, time for my dishevelled looking inner Miss Seductive, who’s taken to knitting through her years of boredom, to come out of hiding. She’s only ever made a few appearances over the years but none that have been particularly well received since getting married.

  I get his attention with some girly hair flicking and once I know he is looking at me I casually scan the spirit dispensers behind the bar as though I’m deciding what to order. I try to flutter my eye lashes and look sweet. He looks away. Dammit. I regain his attention by stroking all of my hair across so it drapes over my left shoulder, exposing the right side of my neck. Slowly, I rub my right shoulder and stretch my fingers out, gliding up and down my neck. It’s exactly what I’d do if I’ve been working on my laptop for hours but I’m just hyping up the sexy so it can be misconstrued either way. I slide my hand back down via the front of my neck, low enough that the base of my wrist reaches my cleavage.

  My peripheral vision confirms that he hasn’t taken his eyes off me and inside I’m jumping up and down squealing because the bartender has served him, he has his drinks yet he’s not looked away from me once.
Cha-ching! Miss Fierce has awoken from a self-induced coma, she dusts herself off and clears her throat; ‘Hell yeah, we’ve still got it bitches! Too legit to quit!’

  I don’t make eye contact with participant number one, who disappears into the crowd somewhere. Time for another? I enjoyed that! I get Wills’ attention holding my finger up to gesture that I’ll be there in a minute. She’s chatting and laughing with some cute guy, so I know she’s more than okay. More confident now, I quickly select participant number two from directly opposite me on the other side of the island. Older this time, dark hair, suited as though he’s come out straight from work.

  Whilst I’m planning my approach we make eye contact so I’ve no choice but to go with the flow. Instead of my friendly teethy smile, I smile with my eyes and pouty glossed lips. When his intrigued gaze lingers, I take my cue to suck in my bottom lip and slowly release it, dragging my teeth along it. My full lips making light work of the gesture. This is something I’d innocently done the other night whilst engrossed in the television, eating ice cream and Wills’ jaw dropped. She went on to show me how to do it again with a twist that makes it look ‘sweet sexy’, rather than ‘pornstar sexy’, so not a lot of tongue action. I watch as his eyes break away from my lips to scan what he can see of my body, namely my tits! He looks satisfied with his initial assessment and confidently starts making his way around the bar towards me.

  Ohh shit… Fuckity, fuck, fuck… He’s called my bluff. What am I going to say to him? ‘Sorry mate, I’m not interested really, I was just practicing a bit of facial flirting’. My inner Miss Sensible is announcing ‘Abort, abort. Retreat. You are not ready. I repeat, you are not ready!’

  I bring my attention back to getting served and thankfully the bartender comes straight over. I’m flustered and blushing. I order four beers and luckily he doesn’t have to move away from me to grab them from the fridge so I engage him in some mediocre conversation about Barbed. Then participant number two, bold as brass, stands right beside me. He faces his body towards me whilst leaning his right elbow on the bar. I’m not sure if it’s a sexy confidence or ugly arrogance. But one thing’s for sure; he smells good.

  The bartender places my change in my hand and his fingers loiter in my palm longer than necessary. He flashes a killer wink and moves on to the next customer. Jeez, I need to get back to Wills quick, I’m sinking quicker than the Titanic here. I fumble around putting the change in my purse then grab two bottles between my fingers in each hand.

  “Hey, looks like you’ve got your hands full—” His voice is deep and actually quite nice but there’s definitely an air of egotesticle swag. Miss Alter Ego, my new wing woman – an amalgamation of Miss Seductive and Miss Fierce – has gone for a much needed intimate wax so I helplessly default to my friendly smile.

  Trying to make a sharp exit, we both notice my purse on the bar at the same time. He is right, my hands are full… So I do what any self-respecting single lady in a hurry would do; I panic and say, “Erm… Could you just put it in my mouth please?”

  What the actual fuck? I am deliriously stupid. Is my brain really that wired into not vetting. Just because I mean it innocently, doesn’t mean to say it sounds like that… He picks up my purse.

  “O-oh it would be my pleasure sweetheart.” Yes, I have no choice but to oblige and open wide like a fucking sex doll. Placing the purse in my mouth, I almost gag on his words. It feels like I’m blushing from head to toe. I practically barge my way through the crowd back to Wills. She retrieves the purse from my mouth and introduces me to this hunk who gives me a swift kiss on the cheek and politely leaves after typing his number into Wills phone.

  I hand Wills two of the beers and almost down one of mine.

  Of course she finds my recollection hysterical, as do I… eventually. Participant number two keeps catching my eye from across the room and smirking like he’s on a promise. Wills convinces me that it’s not an altogether epic fail.

  I reach into my pocket and slide my rubber ring back on to help stop me from drowning again. We dance and laugh the night away, whilst I practise my flirting. Wills gets a couple more phone numbers and by the end of the night I realise I haven’t felt guilty for flirting or ogling men all night. Wills had to translate some things I had either said to me or about me, like being called ‘dench’ and ‘peng’ a few times, which apparently is a good thing. One guy simply whispered in my ear ‘You are on fleek’, then looked me up and down, nodding his head, licking his lips. I guessed that being ‘on fleek’ was also a compliment of sorts.

  I upped my game considerably, relaxing and becoming more assured. Finally able to loosen up without the need for more sex doll impressions.

  The bars lights flicker on and off to indicate last drinks orders so we stumble off the dance floor randomly singing “It’s raining men” by The Weather Girls and it really does feel that way. We call a taxi from outside and stand around giggling and shivering until it arrives. I’ve unexpectedly enjoyed the attention we’ve had this evening; the subtle stares and obnoxious glares, the lovely compliments and even the drunken chat up lines. I’m just pleased that I feel at ease and there’s no uncomfortable mental barrier.

  My only moment of weakness was drunkenly texting Mike in the taxi on the way home, asking him if he’d removed his ring yet. I wish it didn’t matter to me. He didn’t reply but then again it was after 2am!

  Chapter Five

  Wednesday 18th March 2015

  9:00am

  “It's Raining Men” by The Weather Girls disturbs my alcohol infused deep sleep. Well, it seemed like a great idea for an alarm song six hours ago. But now, it’s piercing straight through my delicate ears, activating a beast of a hangover. It was indeed raining men last night, they were everywhere. I did go out and I dipped my toe in but I categorically did not get absolutely soaking wet, as the lyrics may suggest. All in good time I suppose.

  Feeling slightly guilty, I chastise myself as I would usually be an hour into a working day by now but instead I’m rolling out of bed, hung over. Oh how quickly the tables can turn…

  I slept in my underwear and find last night’s clothes inside out, screwed up on the floor as though I’d had to wrestle myself out of them. I slip into my dressing gown and make a beeline for caffeine. Wills is up and about fixing breakfast, looking far less delicate than me.

  “Morning pisshead” She says, kissing my cheek as she breezes past me on route to the fridge. “Coffee and toast to soak up some of those beers? Or would you prefer hair of the dog?” She flashes a bottle of beer at me from out of the fridge.

  “Morning beautiful, coffee and toast would be perfect please. How do you still manage to look so fresh?” I grab a quick glass of water. “I know I’m not used to burning the candle at both ends like you, but jeez I’m such a lightweight in comparison. Rest assured, I’ll be a cheap date for you on Friday!” I take a headache tablet, finish the rest of the thirst quenching cool water and take a seat on the opposite side of the island.

  Wills flicks the switch to boil the kettle and drops four slices of wholemeal bread into the toaster. “Well, actually… about that—”

  “Whoa, hold up, you’re not ditching me for a better offer are you?” I hope not, I had such a good night last night and I’m really looking forward to Friday.

  “No, no, not ditching. Just thinking of changing our plans slightly… If you’re up for it, how about we go clubbing instead. You know, a proper night out where we’re more interested in eating breakfast instead of a kebab on the way home?” Wills dramatically flutters her eyelashes at me trying and failing to look endearing.

  My face screws up like I’ve tasted something horrid. “I don’t know about that Wills. I’ve only ever been to all nighters with Mike a few times and never really enjoyed them. Why the change of heart or is this how you woo all your dates; dinner and a romantic rave?” I’m smiling but she knows she’s got some convincing to do if she really wants to do this. As much as I love dancing, I can’t imagine a
rave is a very sociable night out when you can’t even hear yourself think. I’d much prefer repeating something similar to last night.

  “Well firstly, I said clubbing not a rave, I’m not even sure people say that word anymore or ‘all-nighters’.” Wills shakes her head dismissing my terminology. “You know in 2015, it’s deemed a standard night to be out ‘til 6 in the morning. It’s no biggy, come on.” At Uni, if you were out past 2am you were a rebel – 6am and you’d be considered out of control. “Secondly, the problem with your past experiences is completely down to who you were with. Would you have had such a good night last night if you’d been with anybody but me?” I shake my head smiling at her confidence. “Exactly…. I have been to enough clubs to know where to go and who with. Trust me, I know what a top night looks like—” She must see from the look on my face that I’m wavering so pushes further.

  “Look, when we arranged to go out this Friday it was supposed to be your ‘I’m-single-and-ready-to-mingle’ night. But that randomly happened last night, which has taken the edge off Friday now. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad we went out last night because it’s proof of the goodness that comes from living in the moment and not planning everything in fine detail. I just want to take Friday to the next level, so you’re experiencing new things, meeting new people—”