Instead, I focus on the bedazzled spaghetti strap that sparkles with crystals and rhinestones. After I left Jesika this morning, I went right to the nearest clothing store on Michigan Avenue and swiped my card for a glamorous little black Zara dress. It’s fitted with just a little sparkle on the straps to draw the eye up. I love it, and I imagine it’s something I’ll wear over and over.
I’m early. It’s just seven now, and if I catch a cab, it should only take five or ten minutes to get to the location Jesika sent me. I could use some liquid courage for tonight. I’ll have to be aware of every word that comes out of my mouth—one slipup could ruin my entire trip. I imagine the look of horror on Dean’s face once he realizes I’ve befriended his fiancée. It makes me laugh to myself. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at that moment; seeing Dean suffer sounds like just the right kind of revenge I need to heal. I practically snort-laugh as I imagine myself relaying this very story to my therapist and asking her if it’s the kind of healing she had in mind.
Nervous energy consumes me to the point of distraction, so Idecide a change of scenery is required. A minute later, I’m descending in the elevator to the lobby, smiling sweetly at the bellhop who delivered my suitcase to my room when I checked in, and then hitting the sidewalk on Michigan Avenue. I lose myself in a wave of people, then turn at the first cross street to head west. The spring wind carries a chill I hadn’t expected, and I regret not bringing a sweater to cover my shoulders on this walk. If it were any colder, I’d hail a cab, but as it is, the wind is just enough to threaten to take my breath away and keep my feet moving quickly.
The energy of the city brings a smile to my face, and it isn’t long before I’m nearing my destination, a tucked-away-from-everything little speakeasy named Brando’s with a decadent art deco style. Jesika has good taste. This is just the kind of place that I would visit back in LA. It’s Instagram-worthy, from the black-and-white tile floors to the crystal-encrusted chandeliers that hang over the rich dark mahogany bar. I punch the code Jesika gave me earlier into the lockbox, and I hear the mechanism unlock. I slip inside and am greeted by a burly security guard posted at the second set of doors. He checks my identification and glances up into my eyes. “Welcome to Brando’s, Shae.”
My blood runs cold when he uses my real name. He must have noticed it on my driver’s license. A rush of gratitude swells inside of me when I realize how lucky I am that Jesika and I didn’t arrive at Brando’s together. Another near miss.
“Thanks.” I choke on the word as I pass through the door.
If the bartender uses my real name in front of Jesika like the security guard just did, I’m fucked with a capital F.
The urge to turn and run is strong. As smart as I am, I can’t possibly consider everything. And let’s be honest, I’m flying by the seat of my pants with Jesika. I never expected to actually speak to her, much less befriend the woman. Sure, that was theplan, but my plans don’t usually manifest into anything more than daydreams.
Walking into the bar, I’m immediately met with the chorus of an old Taylor Swift song. A group of three women are belting the lyrics from a stage in the corner as the crowd sings and cheers along with them. I didn’t expect to find a casual karaoke bar inside an elegant speakeasy, but the joyous energy of the crowd seems to seep into my bones. I find myself humming along to the music as I tuck myself into a corner seat at the bar.
“What can I get ya, dear?” A handsome bartender with gauges in both earlobes leans on the bar and addresses me. I make a move to pull my identification out of my wallet to show him when he holds up a hand. “No one under twenty-one allowed. If Joey is doing his job at the front door, I don’t need to see it.”
“Oh.” I release a breath of relief. “Well—” I glance at the cocktail menu written on a chalkboard above the bar “—I’ll try the vodka lemon spritz.”
“Great choice.” The bartender gets to work making my drink, and I take a moment to soak in my surroundings. Lots of young working professionals are crowded into a corner booth near the stage, some couples are huddled together at tables, and a slew of singles are chatting at the opposite corner of the bar. A group of men about my age are talking and laughing, and I watch them, noticing how they interact so easily. Men fascinate me, their ability to live so much of their lives on the surface, while I’m always knee-deep in some negative emotion or another. I wish I had the ease to compartmentalize all the darkness and only exist in the light. I don’t have it in me, though. I’m just not mapped for happiness in the same way others are.
One guy turns then, as if he can sense my eyes on them.
He catches my gaze, and his grin twitches sideways for a moment. The longer he looks, the more his grin deepens. Mycheeks heat with the attention. I’ve never flirted with anyone at a bar before. What’s the appropriate reaction here? Am I interested in this man? A diamond stud in each ear and arms decorated in tattoos are enough to indicate that he would be worlds apart from what I’ve known. Dean is straitlaced, every bit the businessman.
This guy exudes urban street style and is devastatingly handsome.
Just then, my phone vibrates with a text message.
Hey, babe! I’ve been sick off and on since I saw you this morning. Was hoping I’d feel better by now, but unfortunately, I don’t think I’m fit for company. So sorry to cancel on you so late—let’s reschedule soon! xo, J
My face falls.
Jesika has just stood me up. All the makeup and the Zara dress and the anxiety about getting ID’d in front of this woman were all for nothing.
I take a few deep breaths and then type out a quick reply.
No worries! Feel better soon. xoxo
With annoyance bubbling through my veins, I shove my phone into my bag and then move to push myself away from the bar to get the hell out of here.
“Leaving already?” I turn to findhim.The guy from across the bar. He’s even more attractive in person, eyes shining with amusement as he sits down in the chair next to me.
“Oh. Hi.” I’m frozen, no words running through my mind.
“Hi.” He nods to my bag. “Get bad news just now?”
“Um.” I press my lips together, wondering what to say. “My friend isn’t feeling well. She canceled our plans.”
“Oh shit. Well, can’t let a good night go to waste.”
“Yeah.” I avert my eyes, already feeling like the conversation has run its course. The bartender passes me my drink then.
“Wanna start a tab?” he asks.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
