by Xavier Neal
During our stroll towards the elevator at the end of the hall, I sweetly acknowledge, “Still can’t believe you did this. No one has ever thrown me a birthday party before. Well. As an adult.”
He flashes me a crooked smirk. “Glad I could be the first.”
This was almost a total surprise to me. Cordie accidentally let it slip about a week ago when she asked did I mind if she brought a date. It took me off guard in two completely different ways. One, Cordie rarely brings a date somewhere, mainly because she prefers to keep her options open and second, when Dusty agreed to come spend the weekend with me for my birthday, I was under the impression there would just be a copious amount of sex and a nice dinner. I had no idea he’d spent the last month planning a surprise party with Cordie and saving every last penny he had to make it possible.
The last thought has my mouth moving without my permission. “You’re sure I can’t pay you back for any of this? Not even like the food? I know your truck still needs two new tires and-”
“Thought we were done with that conversation, Carly.”
I frown at the way he says my name.
Never imagined a day would come where I wouldn’t enjoy the sound of my name coming out of the person I love’s mouth. Unfortunately, he usually only calls me Carly when we’re arguing or he’s scolding me. I guess it’s really no different than the way I call him Dustin when I’m upset.
The elevator doors ding open and my across the hall neighbor’s face is revealed. “Hey, Oliver.”
“Hey, Carly.” He gives me a wide smile.
My boyfriend’s audible grumble has me squeezing his hand at the same time I introduce him to the tall, dark, and handsome man. “Dustin this is my neighbor, Oliver Shaw. Oliver Shaw this is my boyfriend, Dustin Coleman. He’s visiting for the weekend.”
They shake hands and Oliver states, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Dusty replies.
Oliver stops the doors from closing, so we can slip on. “You two enjoy your night. I’ll make sure I uh…extend the same courtesy to you that you do to me when London’s home.”
I let a wicked smirk appear on my face. “Appreciate it.”
He starts his trek down the hall while Dusty and I wait for the doors to close. The instant they do, he snaps, “What the hell was that about?”
“Being friendly to my neighbor?”
“Flirtin’.”
“Oh, Dusty, we were far from flirting.”
His expression remains unconvinced.
My eyes unconsciously roll.
“Please don’t do that,” he says on a huff. “It’s really pisses me off.”
“Rolling my eyes?”
“Yeah. It’s rude and disrespectful. You may not like what I have to say or what I’m thinkin’, but that doesn’t mean you should treat it like it doesn’t matter.”
The twinge of hurt in his voice strikes me in the side. “I’m sorry, Dusty.”
He keeps his attention pinned on the doors.
“Oliver and I weren’t flirting. We never have in the entire time we’ve been neighbors. And most importantly, he’s a happily married man to a very adorable, very vocal woman.” Memories of having to turn my television up in order to not hear her crying out in pleasure cause me to grin again. “Unlike the people who live above them, I never complain about the noise they make when she’s home and the compensating they do for lost time.”
We’re granted access to the ground level and relief floods his expression. “That’s what he was implyin’?”
“Yes.” I glance up at him with another reassuring stare. “You can relax. Not every man I cross paths with wants to sleep with me.”
He mutters, “The majority do.”
The two of us take a left outside the building and continue towards one of my favorite local bars. Unlike Night Heat, the setting is much more casual and usually filled with a better mix of individuals. When I want to go out for a drink alone, but not necessarily drink alone, I know there’s always a spot for me at the bar of Urban Jungle.
As soon as we step inside, I’m greeted warmly by some of my favorite faces. Dusty drops his touch each time someone rushes up to greet me, but frequently relocates it to my hip the second they pull back. The entire area is packed with everyone from co-workers to friends I don’t see too often any more. There are chic style decorations that scream Cordie’s doing, waiters walking around with what appear to be crab cakes, and lively music pumping through the speakers.
After Chantel, an old friend from college, walks off to order a drink from the bar, I look up at Dusty and coo, “This is incredible.”
He offers me a shy grin. “You sure you like it? I merely picked the place and paid for everything. Cordie did all the,” his hand motions to centerpieces on the tables, “you know. Girly stuff.”
I can’t stop myself from chuckling. “I love it. All of it. And you.”
His smile brightens, and he leans down towards me. “I love you, too.”
Seconds before our lips have a chance to touch, Cordie shrieks, “Birthday girl!”
Dusty grunts at the interrupted opportunity, but I hide my disappointment of our missed kiss a little better.
Cordie tosses her arms around me and we hug tightly. When she pulls away, she verbally pats herself on the back. “It’s amazing, right? Like everything. Your favorite flowers in the vases. Your fave app on the trays. Balloons, because I know how adorable you think they are, even when they’re a bitch to get down. Oh! And the DJ has been informed to keep the mix an actual mix. Not too heavy of any one type.”
“You two did good,” I compliment.
“We did, didn’t we?” She winks at Dusty. “Come on! You two have to meet my date!”
Cordie drags me by the hand with my boyfriend on my heels. She leads us to the back corner of the bar where Audrey is laughing with two men at a high top table. Her giggles are stopped the moment I’m in sight.
“Carly!” She hops onto her feet and races to me. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks!” I say during our hug.
Her attention snaps up to Dusty. “Good to see you!”
He politely nods. “Good to see you, too.”
The man Audrey was sitting beside clears his throat.
My best friend softly smiles. “Carly, Dustin, this is Dylan, the guy I’ve been seeing.”
Dating and didn’t tell me? Talk about uncharacteristic behavior….Then again, didn’t I act a little crazy when I started dating Dusty?
“Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand to shake and my boyfriend follows suit.
From Audrey’s lit up expression to the way she nervously keeps toying with her hair, I silently let it register what a big deal it is for us to meet him.
Once we’ve properly greeted each other, he offers birthday wishes though they’re cut off by Cordie’s squeaking.
“And this is the guy I’ve been dating. Thomas Flanders.”
The thrill piercing her wide eyes is a mixture of pride and lust.
“He’s a photographer for Global Laundry.”
We engage in another round of introductions before taking a seat at the table.
Both men are dressed in high dollar suits, with clean shaven faces and drinking martinis. Mentally, I make another comparison note that is too close to working to be considered just friendly observation.
It’s my fucking birthday! Why won’t my damn brain shut down that part?
The waiter comes by to grab our drink requests, and Cordie begins to order another round for all of us when I interrupt.
“Actually we’ll have a beer,” I casually insist. “Runt’s.”
“Beer?!” Cordie gags, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s your birthday and we’ve sort of got a classy theme going. How about you play along? Maybe champagne? Oh! Let’s do champagne.”
My head promptly shakes. “My birthday. My choices. Me and my boyfriend would like Runt’s.”
“Can you at least put it in something
to make it look fancy?” Cordie whines.
The waiter lightly chuckles. “I’ll uh…see what I can do.”
After he disappears, Dusty looks down at me. “Isn’t Runt’s the beer they served at Cooper’s Concert?”
I quickly nod. “It’s actually a local beer that’s just recently branching out.”
“Explains why I can’t find it in Texas.”
“You’ll just have to move here, so you can enjoy it all the time.”
His hand slides around my lower back. “Tryin’ to tempt me, baby?”
“Maybe….”
“You bein’ here is reason enough. Believe me.”
“Where are you from?” Thomas invades our conversation. “That’s quite the accent.”
“Brestum,” my boyfriend answers with pride. “Right outside Dalvegan, Texas.”
“And you met through work?” Dylan questions.
“Vacation,” we answer in unison.
“What about all of you?” I turn the interrogation onto my friends, who have been apparently keeping secrets. “How did both of you meet guys, and why I am just now hearing about it?”
Cordie volunteers to spew first. She describes how they met fighting over a taxi and how she didn’t want to giveaway details since its still such a new thing. Audrey explains how her and Dylan were introduced at a conference, and her silence on the situation proves she’s unsure of their “label”. From the domineering body language both men are continuously presenting over their dates, it’s a safe bet to call them couples.
We drink, listen to both men describe their jobs, and eventually stumble onto their favorite things to do in the city. Our common love of art galleries and galas leads to Dusty needing another beer to hide his embarrassment over his lack of knowledge that occurred during the earlier part of our day.
“Your first art gallery?” Thomas’ voice is filled with bewilderment. “Ever?”
Dusty slowly nods. “It was um….It was definitely different than anything else I’ve experienced.”
“Where did you go?” Audrey asks kindly.
“We went to see the McCoy exhibit!”
“Oh my God, he’s a total genius,” Cordie gushes between sips. “The way he lets the spray paint drip down the canvas….” Her bottom lip momentarily vanishes out of sight. “You know what image he’s creating with that, right?”
I giggle at her sexual assumption.
“You know, I hear most of his inspiration is sparked by the beauty of his wife.” Thomas winks at his date.
“I believe it,” Dusty tries to stay an active part of the conversation. “Wonder if he uses red and yellow and orange ‘cause those are her favorite colors or if maybe he’s tryin’ to be like that one famous guy. Da Vinci.”
“Van Gogh,” Dylan corrects.
My boyfriend tries to hide his mistake with a smile. “That’s what I meant.”
“We also went and saw the Y exhibit,” I warmly continue to distract from his possible shame. “Those statues were….breathtaking.”
“So much rich culture in those,” Thomas practically swoons. “The way Y takes his Caribbean culture and blends it with his African ancestry is divine. Did you hear he’s actually being commissioned to create a piece for a princess?”
“What!” I gasp my surprise. “That’s wild!”
“You know what else is wild? Audrey and I got into a debate over Rembrandt the other night while we were at dinner. There was this special we watched the night before about the twenty greatest painters of all time and not only did she complain how high he was on the list, she complained about him being on it at all!” Dylan says on a playful laugh.
“What!” My voice grows another octave. “Audrey!”
Her face scrunches in shame. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”
More laughter fills the table from everyone except Dusty. He offers a crooked smile, completely clueless on the subject nature, which prompts me to drop a comforting hand on his leg.
“I’ll explain to you why Audrey is wrong and who Rembrandt is one night over dinner. Maybe we can find the special they watched.”
“You don’t know who that is either?” Thomas scoffs.
“Seriously?” Cordie echoes.
Dusty gives a defeated shrug and sighs, “I need to use the restroom.” My mouth twitches to stop his cop out, but he ignores it. “Which way is it?”
“Opposite side. Far left corner,” Audrey swiftly answers.
He plants a peck on my cheek before he wanders away.
“Think we upset him?” The concern in Audrey’s voice constricts around my lungs.
“It wasn’t the intent,” Thomas claims, though I have my doubts about his statement.
He reminds me of an exact male version of Cordie. I always assumed someday she would indeed find and date her reflection….
“They’re just very different,” Cordie explains, lifting her glass to her lips again.
“Ever wonder if you’re too different?” Dylan quietly questions.
My eyes narrow at the guest.
“No offense,” he trips over himself to establish. “Opposites attract all the time! I was just wondering if…you know…this type of moment happens often between the two of you.”
“They don’t exactly spend much time together in public,” Cordie retorts for me.
Not because we don’t want to or because we can’t come to some sort of agreement about what to do or where to go. We’re a long distance couple, and that’s one of the harsh realities. These gatherings are few and far between, so neither of us really has to deal with the other feeling out of place. Truth is, when we’re alone, video chatting, there have been many times where I felt like an idiot. How was I supposed to know there is more than one type of catfish, especially when my parents refused to let us eat them growing up? Why the fuck would I know all dirt isn’t the same? That red dirt roads and old country back roads are indeed two different things, and the point of reference for each depends on the artist singing? I’ve had moments where I’m just as uncomfortable as he clearly is….I just haven’t had them on display yet.
A fun idea pops into my mind, and I hop down off my stool.
“Where are you going?” Audrey meekly asks. “Did we upset you, too?”
“Nah.” I brush her off with a toss of the hand. “I’m just gonna go dance. Mingle a little more with the other guests.”
Cordie pouts, but Thomas successfully stops her when he whispers something in her ear.
I saunter over to the DJ, put in a request, and head straight for the restrooms running into Dusty on his way out.
He forces a smile onto his face. “Swear, I was comin’ back, baby.”
My hand grabs his. “How about we take a break from all the art talk and do something a little more fun?”
His eyebrows lift in confusion.
I lead us towards an open area and immediately begin to wiggle off my black high heels.
Dusty’s voice drops to a lower level. “What on earth are you doin’?”
“I’m the birthday girl. I’m allowed to do weird and wild things.”
He tosses his hand into the air. “And what weird and wild thing are you about to do? Please, please tell me you’ll be keepin’ your clothes on. Me goin’ to jail tonight would not at all be how I saw this night endin’.”
A small snicker escapes while I scoot my shoes out of our way. With a finger point to the DJ, the song abruptly stops and switches to another.
Immediately, Dusty’s jaw hits the floor and he lets out a deep, loud laugh. “This is the wild thing you wanna do?”
“It’s wild because I’m barefoot.”
“You don’t think you could’ve kept your shoes on?”
“Uh…no. This isn’t Dancing With The Stars, Dusty.” He chuckles again and I demand, “Get over here, cowboy. It’s time to shake our boots off!”
My boyfriend’s smile reaches his ears as he joins me.
We start the beginning moves to th
e dance and I tease, “Think you can spin me in that suit.”
Dusty winks. “I can spin you in anything, baby.”
Our bodies get the point of execution and he doesn’t miss a beat despite the constriction I believed his attire would deliver. We sing along, though Dusty croons loudly at the top of his lungs, serenading me like I’m the only person in the entire room. Eventually, Audrey joins us, which prompts others to flock to the dance floor. Regardless of the increase in attention, Dusty never diverts his elsewhere. He kicks. He spins us. He pulls my favorite fancy trick of dipping me. He keeps the energy lively and loving.
So what if he never learns the difference between Da Vinci and Van Gogh? So what if he doesn’t understand the importance of African influence in some of my favorite modern artists? So what if he prefers beers to martinis and jeans to dress pants? He makes me feel cherished and adored. That’s what should matter. Everything else? Well, we’ll do what we always do. Figure out the steps and keep our dance going.
After the song ends, I insist on another upbeat Cooper Copeland song to keep the excitement going. The DJ has no issues complying. Audrey’s date decides to join her, while Cordie and Thomas choose to make out at the table. Dusty treats the change in song as an opportunity to teach me a new dance. His explanation of the steps is simple, but the actual actions of them are frustrating. However, instead of letting them discourage me, I continuously laugh, allow myself to look like an idiot, and try again.
He spent the afternoon and evening feeling this way. I don’t mind taking my turn….
Dusty shakes his head, still chuckling. “Let me just twirl you, baby. I’ll do the fancy footwork.”
“Twirling’s hard!”
“Didn’t you twirl around your room when you were a little girl?”
Art overhears the conversation and comments, “I did more twirling than she ever did.”
I give him a playful shove, which only makes Dusty laugh more.
“Follow my lead,” he commands at the same time he offers me his hand. “I’ll do the fancy steps. You jus’ worry ‘bout landin’ in my arms.”
