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Fighting Chance: A Single DAd Romance
Amy
The beat of the music resonates inside me like a frantic, racing heart. Or maybe it is just my frantic, racing heart.
Every move I make inside the club is an effort not to bump into someone taller than me. The first chance I get I begin screaming in Marcy’s ear. Not because I’m angry, but because that’s the only way she’s ever going to hear me in this place.
“Okay, can we go now!?”
“What?! We just got here!”
I consider begging for a moment, but her look of disappointment under the layers of Bare Minerals makes me stop. “Just kidding!” I fake my best fake laugh.
It wasn’t poor Marcy’s fault I was so outside the social norm; just because nightclubs made me miserable didn’t mean I had to ruin her fun. But I should’ve known better, she looks right through my fake. One of her long arms slips around me in a half-hug.
“I know you hate it, but I told Rob we were coming and… Oh! There he is!”
I don’t turn to look where she’s waving, instead I suddenly needed a drink… badly. I put all my focus on trying to get the bartender’s attention.
Rob.
Stupid Rob. Stupid, stupid, stupid handsome Rob. Marcy’s older brother. And the reason I could never fully relax at any sleepover at Marcy’s house all through my childhood. Always prepared for stupid Rob to walk in the room. Never wanting to be makeup-less, or disheveled, or stuffing my face in front of Rob was a constant worry. Stupid. Rob.
Marcy’s voice cut through the music behind me, “Hey! We came! It only took some force, but Amy is in your nightclub, can you believe it?”
Okay, better turn around now. Don’t be weird.
Stupid.
There he stands, as handsome as ever. Okay, no, no he’s not. Somehow, he has gotten MORE gorgeous than the last time I saw him five years ago. Over six feet tall, green eyes and now sporting a full-on lumberjack beard that matches his dark brown hair. I immediately start tugging on my clothes and shuffling.
Back to high school in 2.3 seconds. Stupid.
I’m actually grateful when looks past me to the bartender. “Hey! There’s a lady here trying to get your attention.”
Ugh. Lady? Gross.
The eyes of the sweaty kid behind the counter widen with concern for his job, “Oh! Sorry miss – can I- “
“Do you still drink those…um…pink things, Aim?” Rob is looking at me, but I keep my focus on the moist and nervous kid, grateful someone seems more uncomfortable than I do at this moment.
“Vodka cherry sours. Yeah.”
Sweaty is intercepted handing me my pink drink, Rob takes it and casually informs him this one, and all the rest I’d like, would be on the house tab. Then he hands it over.
“Oh, thanks.” I immediately jab the straw into the side of my face and pretend I didn’t.
Stupid.
Rob
She still has no idea how cute she is.
When Marcy mentioned she was finally coming to check out Club Avenue and would be bringing Aim, I half expected to just see Marce. I knew Aim well enough to know this wasn’t her kind of spot. But I was hoping she’d come.
I noticed Marcy getting distracted by whatever loser was hitting on her the past half hour, and since Amy refuses to look at me... well, screw it. I’m looking at her.
I really look.
It has been nearly five years since I stared at Amy while she tried not to stare at me. Since I was fifteen and she was thirteen I have wondered when someone was going to clue her in that she was cute. I always wondered why she never had a boyfriend, always waiting for Marcy to mention some guy Aim was seeing, waiting for her to show up at our place with her head held a little higher – knowing she was hot stuff.
As many times as I almost asked her out back then, I always stopped myself. As annoying as Marce could be sometimes, I still tried to be a good brother. I always reminded myself if things didn’t work out with me and Aim, that would be awkward forever. I didn’t want my sis to be stuck between us. So, I tried not to be overwhelmed by the feelings she kindled in me. I tried to ignore the urge to tell her how the way she looked and acted haunted me.
And I just I knew someone, sometime, would let her know how amazing she was. Watching her refuse to make eye contact and stabbing herself in the face with her straw… I realized… no one ever did.
Shit.
She has to be twenty-three by now and she still has no idea she’s cute. Wait, no – I’m wrong. Amy isn’t cute anymore. Not at all. At some point she became beautiful. Every curve of her is wrapped in a tight blue dress Marcy probably insisted she wear. There is no trace of product in her hair, it’s just long and soft and…
Shit.
I kick myself for not manning up years ago and being the one show her how hot she is.
Amy
“You don’t mind, do you?”
Marcy stands there with… I didn’t catch his name over the music. Let’s just call him Adonis, shall we? One of the many Adonises in the club that night Marcy could have her pick of. Looks like number 194 was the winner.
“No hon, have fun.”
Knowing I really didn’t mind being abandoned, that meant I got to go home, she smiles her Crest White Strips commercial smile, “I’ll text you!”
“K!”
Then in a swirl of hair and glitter she’s off with Adonis on her arm. I jump for joy inside as I finish my pink drink and make for the exit.
“Going already?”
One of the many bodies I am trying to duck and dodge is speaking to me.
I just wish it was anybody but the body of the one person I couldn’t stand to look at. Stup- oh you get the idea.
“Oh, um, yeah… Marcy – “
“Yeah, I know, but you don’t have to leave because she did, we can go upstairs where it isn’t so loud.”
“Oh, thanks, but um… “
He doesn’t let me finish my lame excuse, “Okay, see ya Aim.”
I finally look at him as he turns and goes. Despite being so tall with impossibly broad shoulders, he seems to glide through the mass of humanity with no problems at all. I wondered if his mixed martial arts training has made him so agile. I was lost in that thought when…
“Move!”
I almost fall forward from the shove behind me. Suddenly, it connects in my head that I’ve been standing still in the doorway of a crowded room.
Despite the rudeness with which I was moved, my first reaction is still to apologize to the woman pushing past me. Although she ignores my apologies, she does turn around to the other voice that calls out after her.
“What the fuck, bitch! I know you didn’t just push this chick.”
I turn to face some guy who saw the scene and now seems to be coming to my defense. The scent of his cologne gives me a sharp pain between my eyes and I really didn’t need his help. I hate confrontation and this…um, gentleman… was pulling me into a big one.
The Victoria Secret model who shoved me spins around. “What did you just call me?”
“You heard me.”
I take this opportunity to make my escape through a hole in the crowd. Finally, I make it out into the night air and found a place against the brick wall to lean and take a deep breath. Then another. Another.
Okay. I’m out of there, I’m okay, and now I can go home and not come back. Great.
That is when my cologne-drenched defender flies out of the double doors.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, thanks. It’s not a big deal, really.” I head for the parking garage with a little wave that I hope he will know means ‘goodbye’.
He doesn’t. “Are you by yourself?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He jogs a bit to catch up to me. I slow down, not because I want to chat, but because I don’t want this guy following me to my car.
“I can walk you.”
“Oh, that’s oka
y. I’m fine, really.”
“Don’t want anything to happen to a sexy girl like you out here by yourself. I can drive you home, we can stop by my place first for a drink or something.”
My creep radar is off the charts. I begin to walk in the opposite direction of my car.
“Oh, I can’t, sorry, I really need to get home.”
“It’s still early, come on, when was the last time you got fucked real good?”
Okay, now please understand, by nature I am a very passive person. And I know in my head at this point I should tell this guy to get lost and leave me alone. But, still, STILL, I try to be polite.
“Oh, um, no thanks. I don’t really do that.”
“Come on, I helped you out back there and you’re just gonna be all cold like that?” The next few moments happen so quickly it’s like a scene from The Flash comic book.
First cologne-man grabs my elbow, then cologne-man is on the ground. Not a second between the two.
I looked down at him, stunned when I hear a familiar voice that has a very unfamiliar tone. “You don’t touch people. Ever.”
Rob is beside me, calm and collected, but burning a hole through the man on the ground with steely glare. Cologne shoots to his feet and spins around ready for a confrontation. But there is no confrontation. One good look at Rob and the smelly wanna-be hero un-puffs his chest.
“It’s cool man, we’re friends. I was just trying to help her out.”
“Go.”
No arguments. They guy heads back in the direction of the club. Rob pulls out his phone and sends a text, then he peers down the street and watches closely as club security turns Cologne away from the entrance. When Rob is satisfied there won’t be a scene, he turns his attention back to me.
“Where’s your car?”
“Oh, over there.”
I point back in the opposite direction from where I was walking.
He raises his eyebrow a bit, “Okay, come on.”
Rob
I smelt trouble on that sleaze hours ago. The things I overheard him saying to Amy were pissing me off. But when he actually touched her outside the club I had to stop myself from repeatedly slamming his head into the concrete. I was a little ashamed for wishing he would have taken a swing at me and given me a legal reason to put him in the hospital. Only a little ashamed.
Aim is trying not to look as shaken up as I can tell she is. When she confessed she was headed in the opposite direction of her car, I swallow the anger that rises in me again.
“Okay, come on.”
We walk in silence for a bit and I wait for the tension in her shoulders to relax, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen. So I resort to small talk.
“Marce said you got your grad degree?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m a super librarian now. Those books better watch out.”
“Nice. You were always smarter than Marce, and me, and everyone else.”
“Noooo, I just like to read.”
“And write. And understand stuff no one else does. That’s all.”
She laughs, but it’s true, if you look under “humble” in the dictionary you’d find Amy’s picture. But you’d also find it under “smart as fuck”.
And “hot as fuck”.
I should really tell her that, but I decided that immediately after she got hit on by a douche bag is probably not the right time. Every click of her heels against the hard floor of the parking garage is like the ticks of a bomb. A bomb that had been ready to explode inside me for ten years.
When we get to her beat-up Nissan I decide I needed to see her again. And I have a GREAT reason to get her to agree to meet me.
All thanks to that cologne-drenched asshole.
Amy
The worst thing about Rob is, despite my internal hostility towards him, he had never been anything but nice to me. Even growing up, he never did all the mean, bratty things your best friend’s brother is supposed to do. I always thought if only he would have, I wouldn’t have been so smitten. But how can you not be smitten with beauty AND kindness. Especially beauty, and, my gawd – he was beautiful.
I almost had my hand on the car door and “goodbye” on my lips when he throws me with a disturbing question.
“So… what would you have done if he would have tried to pull you somewhere?”
“I wouldn’t have gone.”
“Yeah, sure, you would have tried not to go, but what if he had dragged you off?”
“I would’ve screamed.”
“What if no one was around?”
“I would’ve hit him, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“No, I would have.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me how you would’ve hit him.”
Suddenly Rob was wrapping one of his huge hands around my arm where Cologne had grabbed me earlier. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s firm.
“I don’t wanna hit you.”
“I saw you stab yourself with the straw.”
Fine. I draw back and slug him in the chest. Not with all my might, but enough to prove I’m not weak. But Rob doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even move at all. We stand there in silence for an eternity.
“That’s it?”
“I hit you.”
“You did?”
I can tell he’s teasing me, but his hand is still firmly in place. I pull back further this time and really swing with all my might. Rob lets me go, but still remains unmoved. Rock solid.
“Could be worse, but I’d feel better if you let me give you a few lessons. Even that twerp wouldn’t have been very put off by…that.”
“Lessons?”
“Self-defense. I teach it at my gym the nights I don’t do the kids classes. And private lessons too, we could start with that.”
“You own a gym too?”
“Just a figure of speech, my friends, my work, my gym, my sister’s friend with the weak punches…”
I think about slugging him again, but that would be way too “flirty” – don’t want to freak him out by giving the wrong impression – after all, I’m not delusional.
“Okay, sure, I guess everyone should probably do that, really.”
“Yeah, but especially you.” He winks as he leaves me at my car door, calling back behind him as he makes his way out of the garage, “I’ll get your number from Marcy.”
Then his stupid face is gone.
Rob
I instantly regret trying to see Amy again. I should have told her to get herself into a class, but it didn’t have to me mine.
As I walk along the stone path to my front door, I hold my keys tight so they won’t make a sound. I turned the knob like a surgeon, and tried to walk as lightly as possible into the kitchen. I feel guilty enough for going out, the last thing I want to do is wake up my lady and make things so much worse.
No luck.
“Where were you?”
I turn and face her, guilt dripping off me like rain. “I had to do some work stuff, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
A question I have grown to loath – mostly because I never have a good answer.
“I didn’t want to sweetheart, but I had to take care of some stuff. Aren’t you tired?”
She burns a hole through me.
“No.”
“Do you want some- “
“No.”
I sigh and sink into a wooden kitchen chair. “I’m sorry, Maddison.” I can see her deciding if she forgives me. I know she will, she always does. Five-year olds never hold grudges long.
Right then a blonde ball of energy bursts in. “Maddison! What are you doing out of bed?”
I pull out my wallet, “No worries, Lindsay, we’re just chatting.” I pay the babysitter and see her out. Before I close the front door I make sure Maddison isn’t in earshot and whisper the same question to the screen obsessed teen I always do. “How was it?” She looks up from her phone and gives me one of those overly sympath
etic smiles I have almost gotten used to.
“Oh, you know. The same.”
I nod and return the sympathetic smile, “Thanks, Linds.”
When I shut the door and turn around Maddison is planted in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed.
I’m stuck.
“Why?”
“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this, right? I do stuff for work so we can have the house and food and … everything. Right?”
“Why at night?”
She’s got me. The truth was, even though I own Club Avenue, I didn’t go there tonight to work. I went out for fun for once, for the first time since Maddison was born, in fact. Marcy said she was finally gonna get Amy to come out and I…I regreted it.
“It won’t happen again, Maddie, okay?”
After some pondering she gives her cool reply. “Okay.”
And with that she’s off down the hall and back to her room. I shuffle after, grateful not to have had to negotiate another ‘why’.
Since Maddison was born I have found myself often asking “why?” as well. Never about her, I know why Maddie is in my life – because at some point I did something right to deserve her. But everyone else has had me continuously asking ‘why?’. Why did her mother take off at the first sign that she wasn’t ‘normal’? Why didn’t any schools feel like she could ‘fit in’ to a regular class? Why does autism have to be seen as a curse?
Maddie got into bed. She doesn’t jump in the way most five-year olds would. She does it the way she does everything, slowly and purposefully. I must be really tired, or distracted, or maybe I’m just a dumb ass because I do something I KNOW never to do, when I pull up her covers my hand brushes against her arm.
“AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Oh, shit! Maddie, I’m sorry!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
I back way up, this scene is not as unusual at it may seem to most. Maddison can’t tolerate human touch at all, and the only way she can express it is to scream. So… I let her scream.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
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