“Sure, text me where to meet.”
“I tossed my phone a couple of months ago. I got tired of everyone’s annoying intervention texts. Like half of them should talk and that includes your nosey sister.”
“Ah, so that’s why I couldn’t get in touch with you, and I’ll ignore that comment about my sister. She’s super stressed out.”
“Marriage to the wrong person will do that to you. Let’s plan to meet up at The Campbell, Wednesday at eight.”
“Are you paying?” she asked.
“Don’t I always? It’s the least I can do after last night.”
“You know, if I had any money, I would treatyouafter last night. Man, no one has ever made me co—”
He slammed the bathroom door.
The Moment Before the Regrettable Moment
Darcy sat in the club chair, looking at the midnight view of Midtown Manhattan from his condo’s floor-to-ceiling window. In the dark, he was lost in a thousand-yard stare at the city lights and raised the rocks glass to his lips. Otis Redding sang from the Alexis on the bar. Yeah, the guy really knew how to sing out pain.
But tonight, he had a hot date with a bottle of vodka that would treat him with respect. In fact, vodka was his woman of choice these days, but who was he kidding? Bourbon, tequila, or whisky would do in a pinch. At this late hour though, memories ofherwere always at their worst, and Stoli was the best bang hismoney could buy on the fly. Within minutes, she’d be banished into the recesses of his mind as his past slipped into oblivion.
He glanced at the photograph of them together on the media console. “An epic waste of romance, time, and money,” he slurred, attempting to buoy himself as if the latter two things truly mattered to him but, apparently, she thought they did. Maybe once they mattered, but not since meeting her. She was never a waste of his time or money. He would have given her the world because he loved her with an ache so deep that it would never dissipate. She was the one, and he’d planned to ask. He burned for her despite her brutality in the end, and the ungifted engagement ring still in its box on his dresser as a reminder to never fall in love again.
If he let himself, he would cry. Instead, he took another sip, comforted by the Russian woman whose liquid cruelty would surely come hours after their assignation in the abyss.
A knock to the apartment door startled him from his thoughts, and if it hadn’t grated his last nerve, he would have ignored it. But maybe she had returned with tail between her legs, begging for forgiveness and her heart open to him again. “I made a terrible mistake! I love you! I want you! Please forgive me!”
Rising with a drink in hand, he barely walked a straight line to the door, which oddly moved from where it was two hours ago.
Wrenching it open, he was surprised to see his good friend at the threshold, wearing a black faux fur jacket, black skinny pants, and high heels. She looked like a hooker.
“Beanz,” he said.
“Finally! I’ve been trying to call you for a week. Where have you been?” she scolded.
“How did you get past the doorman?”
She didn’t respond.
Not that far gone to notice the tears streaming down her face, he stepped aside to let her in.
“I’ve had the worst week of my life and don’t appreciate you ghosting me when I needed you most,” she said, storming past him.
Unable to resist a vodka-influenced smart-ass remark at her thoughtlessness, he attacked, trying not to slur lest she think him a drunk. Her father was a drunk, and her sister was nearly one. “Where haveyoubeen for the lastthree monthsofmymisery? Some friend youare.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been out of the loop. I was ... busy. Jeez, why are you listening to Otis Redding and drinking in the dark?”
“Because I like it that way.”The light burns my eyes.
“At least it’s not that country crap she makes you listen to. For sure, that shit’ll make you blow your brains out,” the queen of pop complained.
He’d roll his eyes if he could.
“What are you drinking?” Beanz asked.
He looked at the glass in his hand. “Vodka. I think.”
“Good. I’ll have one, too,” she said walking to the window and city view, then dropped her massive handbag onto the floor, followed by her jacket.
