by Brinda Berry
“So,” I say, moving back an inch so we aren’t so close. “They just met?”
“Uh huh.” She shakes her head. “I hate going out with Cherry. She’s fun and everything, but she always ends up hooking up and she leaves me stranded.”
I laugh. “The fun ones always do.”
“What do you do, Leo, beside look handsome?”
I tell myself she’s just being friendly. Still, unlike Gunner, I’m not looking for a hook-up. I back up another couple of inches. “Writer. You?”
“Dental hygienist.” She sips from her frozen drink.
Aiden gets up and wanders off through the thick crowd and I lose sight of him. Another band takes the stage and begins preparing for their set.
Coming here was a bad idea. Stacey keeps talking to me and she’s nice. Pretty. But I can barely pay attention to anything she’s saying, because I can’t quit thinking about Harper.
Stacey puts her hand on my arm again to get my attention. “Hey, the waitress is here to take orders. What do you want?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Stacey turns to the waitress who stands somewhere behind my chair. Her hand is still on my arm. “He’ll have a beer. Whatever you have on tap. I’ll have a Sex on the Beach.”
“I’m not drinking,” I say, leaning toward her since she’s either deaf or determined. When I lean back, I pull my arm from her grasp and make certain my body isn’t in easy reach again.
“Someone will drink it. Not to worry, handsome.”
She doesn’t touch me again but continues to attempt conversation. Some girls are just like that—touching you when they want. Perhaps I’m being paranoid that she’s interested in me for more than a diversion while her friend gets friendlier by the minute with Gunner.
A beer appears in front of me and a frozen drink in front of Stacey. She reaches for her bag. “I’ll get yours.”
I shake my head and reach into my pocket for my wallet. She is not buying me a drink. I pivot in my chair slightly so I can hand the waitress money for my beer. My gaze travels up the length of the waitress in the revealing black shorts and tight t-shirts that all Dastardly’s waitresses wear. A shock reverberates through me as if I’ve fallen twenty feet and hit the ground flat on my back. I need to blink to clear my vision.
Harper’s hair is down, curling in ringlets down her back, and she’s wearing makeup. Those shorts make her legs go on for miles of beautiful skin.
This cannot be. Harper stands behind me, waiting for payment.
“You work here?” This is the dumbest thing I’ve said in ages. I hand her a twenty dollar bill.
Harper gives a couple of bills back. “No,” she yells. “I walk around scamming folks for money, but no one has caught on yet.”
Funny girl. She walks away and I stare at her retreating backside until I can’t see her through the crowd.
“Thanks for getting mine,” Stacey says.
It’s then that I realize that Harper gave me only a couple of bucks, assuming I was paying for both mine and Stacey’s. She thought we were together. My gut is churning with a terrible need to jump from the chair and race after Harper. Why would she think I was paying for a girl’s drink?
“Sure,” I say.
I glance around the table. Gunner and the friend are sitting close and they look like a couple. As if they came here together. Stacey’s not sitting quite as close to me, but we do appear to be on a fucking double date.
I feel hollow inside and hear a ringing in my ears. She thinks I’m on a date.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say to Stacey. I get to my feet and walk through the crowd. I’ve left the beer on the table. Harper stands beside a table near the back and the restrooms where she’s serving a table of four guys. Two of them are telling her something and she smiles at them.
Her smile. She always looks pretty, but there’s a transformation that takes place when she gives you that genuine smile—a stamp of approval for whatever you’ve said or done. It gives me a buzz to think about that feeling.
Now, some strangers are the recipients of her smile and my chest burns. I tell myself to get over it and go home because tonight isn’t working out.
Instead of leaving, I find a spot along the wall where I can watch the band and keep an eye on her. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the display.
Josie: What r u doing dork?
Me: Dastardlys
Josie: Yes. I know that. What u doing holding up that wall?
I scan the room. Josie waves at me from the bar where she sits on a stool.
Me: When did Harper start working here?
Josie: Last week
Me: Why didn’t you tell me?
Josie: Did you ask me about Harper and I forgot?
I roll my head in a circle, stretching the tense muscles of my neck.
Me: It’s too dangerous for her to work here.
Josie closes her eyes and shakes her head. She bends her head to continue texting.
Josie: She’s a big girl
Me: What about drunks hitting on her?
Josie hops from her seat and pushes her way through the crowd until she reaches me. She flings one arm across my shoulders. “You can’t have it both ways. You’re either dating her or not.” She yells above the music near my head.
I roll my eyes. “She doesn’t have anyone to look out for her.”
“Who was your friend over there?” Josie drinks from her beer bottle and uses it to point to the table I left.
“Her name is Stacey and I don’t really know her. Tell Harper I don’t know that chic.”
Josie laughs. “Oh no you don’t. Tell her yourself. We’re not in fifth grade. Besides, why do you care what Harper thinks?”
I shrug as if it’s no big deal even though I can’t seem to quit searching the room for her. “I don’t want her to think I hook-up with random girls in bars.”
“She won’t.” Josie waves at someone entering and I follow her gaze.
“Do I know that guy?”
“Yeah. You saw him the other night when you dragged Harper away. See you later.”
I squint at the guy, trying to place him. There were no guys at that birthday party. There was a room full of women. Except for one guy.
I stare across the room at Josie as she talks to him. He’s tall, thickly built like he spends an inordinate amount of time in the gym. He turns and then I’m certain of his identity. It’s Navy, without the flashing lights and music and white pants.
Josie looks around for a moment and points at someone. I look where she might be pointing.
Harper. Harper who isn’t paying attention as she takes a drink order from a guy. The customer is old enough to be her father, but he’s looking at her in an un-fatherly way.
My sister is trying to kill me.
I force myself to watch the band for as long as I can to remove my focus from Harper. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse her at the table near me. She’s good. I don’t remember her saying if she’s even waited tables before, but she’s quick to buzz around the room delivering drinks. I silently scold myself when I realize I’m still watching her.
At some point, Gunner and the two girls leave their table. I’ve searched the room for Aiden, but assume he’s left for some other entertainment for the night. It’s after midnight and the place is still crammed with customers.
There’s a small area in front of the band for dancing. Several partiers are doing a version of line dancing.
My sister still sits at the bar with Navy. His back has been to me most of the time while he talks to Josie. Suddenly, Harper appears and she’s changed clothes. Her shift must’ve ended and she’s ready to leave.
I push off from the wall, prepared to offer a walk to her car. Before I can make it more than a couple of steps, Josie, Navy, and Harper walk to the small dance floor. The three of them begin to dance.
It’s all harmless. No touching or grinding. A small favor for my already tortured emotions.
She laughs, her head thrown back in pure delight from something said. I don’t know if my sister or Navy makes that happen, but I can’t watch anymore. I weave my way through the crowd quickly.
Outside on the sidewalk, I can finally breathe.
Jesus. I’m a fool. I don’t want her. I want her. I want her so much I can taste the salt of her skin from the last time we made love.
When I arrive home, I sit at my desk with a goal in mind. I have one particular scene in my novel that I’m in the mood to write. It’s several chapters ahead and although I write in a linear fashion, I open the file in my writing software.
The characters in The Incident meet for a rendezvous in a hotel room. It’s a gritty scene. No flower petals strewn across the floor. No champagne chilling in a silver-plated bucket.
No murmured phrases that glide off the tongue to entice and persuade.
It’s a scene of stolen moments and urgency. Their touching is quick and fraught with yearning. Afterward, they hardly speak because they have no need.
Their communication has been a wordless demand.
I type the final sentence of the scene and glance at the laptop clock. In half an hour, I’ve written more than I have for days. And it’s good. I know it is, because I was transported into the hotel room with them—an invited voyeur into my characters’ lives.
A noise sounds in the hallway and I glance at the clock. It’s 3:30 am and I’ve lost track of time. Since having my landlord install a lock on the exterior door, there’s only one person who has access.
I’m refreshed from the sheer joy of getting some words onto the screen. I could easily run a mile or lift weights. Adrenaline surges through my entire being. It’s a rush only another writer can understand.
I swing the door open so I can talk to Harper.
Navy—sans white pants getup—stands with her at the end of the hallway. They aren’t hand-in-hand, but she’s knocks into him when she takes a step.
I’m frozen. Do I go back inside and wish I’d never seen them coming in together? She’s not my sister or my tenant. I can’t tell her not to have a guest.
Still, my mind races, trying to come up with some excuse to kick his ass.
They walk together toward me and she’s looking at her feet. I have no doubt she’s been drinking. When she lifts her head, she sees me for the first time and there’s mascara under her red-rimmed eyes. Tear stains track down her cheeks.
“What the fuck?” I allow my door to slam shut behind me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Harper turns toward her apartment. “Leo, it’s nothing. Go back inside.”
“What did you do, man?” There’s a sharpened edge to my voice.
“I didn’t—” he says in a softly accented voice, Italian maybe.
Harper whips around and glares at me. “Antonio didn’t do anything. He was only making sure I get inside my apartment.”
“I’ll bet he was.”
“I don’t know what your problem is.” Antonio the Navy stripper has balls to look me straight in the face. “I suggest you leave this situation to me.”
Right. “And I asked you what you did to her. She’s been crying.”
“That is none of your business. The lady told you I did nothing.” He raises one eyebrow at me and nods as if we are finished with the conversation. He turns away and stands waiting while Harper puts her key in the lock.
“Harper,” I say. “Answer me. What did he do? You’ve been crying.”
She ignores me. There’s no way he’s going inside. She should know better than to let some stranger bring her home. What is she thinking? At the very least, he’s aiming for a good time. She’ll regret it tomorrow.
His hand is now on the center of her back, and I grab his shoulder with my fingers digging into his bulk.
Navy shrugs me off and looks at Harper. “Do you want me to take care of this nuisance?”
That’s when my brain abandons logical thought.
I draw back and punch him. The smash of knuckles against cartilage makes a faintly crunching sound. Blood courses down his face. Pain explodes through my hand and shoots straight up my arm.
Harper screams as if I’ve hit her. I drag him away a few feet to make sure we aren’t too close.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight. I wonder if I’ll regret it later. Probably not. It feels too damn good.
20
Get Religion
Harper
My shift begins in ten minutes. I pick at the Dastardly’s shorts, pulling them down to cover more leg. The uniform is sized for a girl in middle school.
“Let Harper tell the story one more time.” Dane shoots a foam basketball toward the hoop mounted on his office door. It falls short.
Josie retrieves the squishy orange ball and shoots. The ball glides in. “It’s pretty unbelievable. My brother is a raging madman. Antonio is huge. What was Leo thinking? A writer can’t type with broken fingers.”
“He’s lucky that Antonio let it go. And Leo’s fingers aren’t broken. They’re probably only bruised.” I stare at my own knuckles in my lap. I can still see how Leo’s bloodied knuckles looked when I pulled his hands from their grip on Antonio’s shirt.
I focus on Dane’s desk and then look away. It makes me blush just thinking of the time I was in here with Leo.
“So,” Dane says, “Leo pops Antonio in the face—BAM—and then what? Does Antonio get one in or—” Dane darts from side to side with his fists up like he’s sparring.
“Argh. I’ve already told you. That’s it. I jumped between them because I panicked that someone would get hurt—”
“Someone? You mean Leo,” Josie says. “My brother hasn’t been in a fight since high school.”
“Leo’s fist came out of nowhere. One minute they’re both mouthy and next thing Antonio holding his nose. Leo was so fast and—”
“Leo must’ve caught him off-guard. That’s all I can figure,” Josie says.
“Go on, Harper. Josie hon. Let the girl finish her story.” Dane raises both eyebrows.
Josie throws the foam ball at his head.
I sigh. “That’s basically it. Then Antonio put his hands up in the air and his nose was bleeding and it was awful. I asked him to leave.”
“Leo or Antonio?” Dane asks.
Josie throws a pen at him this time. “Antonio. Why would Leo leave? He lives there.”
“So. Cool,” Dane says. “You and Leo make up?”
“It’s not that easy.” I bend over and place my face in my hands. I peer up at Dane. “I need a stable guy. One I can trust with my heart, you know?” I stand so I can get back to my shift.
Dane makes a sad face and nods slowly. “So, you and this Antonio guy. You’re seeing him now?”
Josie rolls her eyes. “Antonio doesn’t want to date her. He’s probably got his eye on my brother, not Harper.”
“That guy? No way.” Dane’s brow furrows into deep lines.
“Told me himself.” Josie says.
Dane grins and takes his feet off the desk. “There’s never a dull moment with you two.” He chucks my chin on the way out. “It’ll turn out how it’s supposed to turn out,” he says over his shoulder.
“He’s such a wise one,” Josie says.
* * *
It’s a Friday and I have the day off. Leo and I have passed each other in the hallway exactly two times this week. The first time, I pretended to read my cell phone while walking. The second, I held the phone to my ear and had a long conversation with myself.
It’s beyond sad that the conversation was actually interesting. I’m so lonely for Leo in my life. Still, I’m not about to apologize for anything. What would I apologize for? I don’t understand why he cares if Antonio walked me to the door.
Because even i
f Leo wasn’t on a date that night, he was flirting with a girl—buying her drinks, sitting next to her, letting her whisper sweet somethings in his ear. I get physically ill every time I picture the scene.
Antonio’s just a nice guy who commiserated when I started blubbering like some sad baby over losing Leo and not wanting to let go.
I pocket my cell and walk downstairs to the bakery. Today, my landlord stands behind the counter in a purple apron.
“Hey pretty lady.” Erik grabs a plate. “Let me guess. You look like you need one of my famous bear claws.”
“That’s exactly right. You are amazing.”
“No charge.” He hands me the pastry. “Let me get you a coffee.”
“Yes, please. Listen. I have something really awkward to ask.”
“Go for it. Awkward is my specialty.”
“If I can find someone to take over my apartment, can I break my lease early?” I take the coffee mug from him.
He frowns and comes around the counter to my side. “Let’s sit.”
The place is empty since the early morning crowd has already been by for their breakfast. There’s a spot in the front near the windows where I set up my breakfast and settle in.
Erik sits back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Why do you want to move? Is the rent too much?”
“Well, no. I just…” I stare out the window. “The truth is that Leo and I don’t get along. We had this thing and now we don’t.”
“And you hate him.”
“No.” I give Erik an exasperated look. “I wish I did. Then I could probably be okay living next door. But please don’t tell him that.”
“If you have to move, I understand. You can break the lease early. But we like renting to you. Don’t do anything drastic. Sometimes, these things blow over.”
After everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine not feeling something when I see him. Seeing him at Dastardly’s is one thing. I can fake it and pretend he’s any customer off the street. We don’t have to be personal.
