34. Ashley
ASHLEY
D rinking while depressed only made you more depressed. That was the great epiphany I was experiencing. I was being careful not to fall past the tipping point, where I would start to confess stupid things to Izzy and Whit, but I had consumed enough that I felt both drunk and hungover which only compounded my misery.
Izzy and Whitney insisted the best way to combat my blues was dancing at the bar.
I tried talking them into getting something to eat at one of the restaurants, but they had picked their way through the baskets of snacks all afternoon. None of us was genuinely hungry. Even so, I didn’t relish being around a bunch of corporate toads getting hammered as they waited for the ska-reggae-punk band to start. The DJ was warming them up with eighties classics and the whole bar was singing with Journey’s, “Don’t stop…be-leee-ving…”
Whitney called Fliss and yelled over the music, “Tell Grandma the DJ is playing her housecleaning soundtrack. Tell her to come dance to it for a change.”
Izzy laughed gustily, but I only managed a weak smile.
Whitney begged Fliss to babysit Ryan so the grownups could come to the bar. Mom wasn’t interested and promised to stay with Fliss and Ryan. Eddie and Sandy appreciated her invitation when she called their room, but declined.
Oliver turned up ten minutes later. He had a bruise on his cheek where Ryan had accidentally clipped him with a paddle while they had kayaked. He went straight to the dancefloor with Whitney.
“Come on ,” Izzy insisted, clapping her hands over her head as she tried to drag me after them, singing, “Girls just wanna have fu-un...”
“I’ll watch the drinks,” I insisted. “Go.” I hated that I was being such a wet blanket. This was their vacation and they wanted to enjoy it. It wasn’t their fault I’d been rejected twice in one week.
My stomach felt like it was rotting. My head was pounding and my heart was aching. My self-esteem wasn’t even on the floor. It had been swept from the unfinished basement into the garbage bin and taken by the diesel truck to be shoveled into an incinerator.
But I wouldn’t cry. I refused to cry.
This too shall pass, I assured myself, and tried to think of where I would go if not Sydney or Pine Grove.
The high-top table joggled slightly. A middle-aged man with the glow of double-shot screwdrivers leaned on it. Oh, God .
“Can I join you for a drink?” The music had switched to Livin’ on a Prayer.
“I’ve had two men treat me like shit back to back. You’re risking your life by even speaking to me.”
He drew back. “How about I buy you a drink and leave you alone?”
“My hero. Make it a soda with lime.”
He nodded and walked to the bar, leaving me thinking maybe I should have given him a chance.
Someone else sat down. I went from affronted to excited as I recognized Fox, then back to affronted as he eyed the array of drinks on the table.
“They’re not all mine.” I sipped the blue-vomit special that I’d barely touched. It was so sweet it was making me gag.
“Soda with lime,” he said as a server came by with the water the other guy had ordered for me.
“How did you know where we were?” I asked.
“I called the villa. I moved my things to my own room.” He slid a keycard toward me. When I widened my eyes, he said, “That’s the spare for yours.”
My wobbling heart tumbled to its hands and knees, getting skinned afresh.
“Thanks.” I plucked it from him and stuffed it into the pocket on my miniskirt. “Why didn’t you save a few bucks and share Izzy’s room?”
“Don’t do that.”
I reached to sip my water. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m your friend and I care about you. I get to tell you when you’re hurting both of us.”
“Right. Friends .” The word scraped a layer off the back of my throat. My eyes lost focus. Or filled with tears. Why did this have to be so horrible?
Human League cried, Don’t You Want Me, Baby…
“Oh, my gawd.” I choked on a laugh of sheer torture.
His water arrived.
“Thanks.” Fox offered his credit card, drawing a circle over the table to indicate he would pick up the tab for whatever was currently owed.
“You always say you’re so cheap, but then you do things like that,” I said as the server walked away. “Why?”
“It’s a round of drinks,” he dismissed.
“But you’re paying for my suite, too. Did you get your own?”
“They only had a standard queen.”
“But would you have if they did?”
“Are you trying to pick a fight? No, I wouldn’t, but this isn’t complicated, Ash. I don’t spend money on myself because I’d rather save it for things I really want. I’m frugal, not cheap. I shout drinks when I’m out with a group and buy dinner when I’m on a date. When I need something, I get the least expensive one that will do the trick. When I want something, I wait until I can afford the very best so it will last forever.”
I held his intense stare as I sifted through a statement that was actually very complicated. Was he saying that I wasn’t something he wanted or needed? That he would wait? That he couldn’t afford me? Maybe, like Shane, he didn’t think we would last forever so why start?
The music switched over to a rhythmic strum of a guitar. Rick Springfield’s chesty voice began to croon, “Jessie is a friend…”
“Oh, come on ,” I cried to the gods.
I looked for my purse, forgetting that I hadn’t brought one. Just my room card and a credit card.
Fox touched my wrist. “Did you say anything to anyone?”
“No!” I scowled. “What is there to say?” I made herself drain the soda water, stomach sloshing with rejection, but I needed to hydrate or I’d feel even worse tomorrow.
Fox’s hand stayed on my arm, thumb playing against my skin. It was nothing. A tiny feather of a caress, but it felt so good. So achingly good that I stood there paralyzed the way cats go limp at a grip on their ruff, submissive and starting to purr.
And Rick Springfield wished that he had Jessie’s Girl …
Fox’s touch abruptly dropped away and suddenly we were surrounded.
Whitney and Izzy reached for their drinks. Oliver asked Fox if he wanted a beer then disappeared to the bar to get one for himself.
“Where are you going?” Whitney scolded as I stood.
“Bed.”
Duran Duran began singing Hungry Like the Wolf. Izzy grabbed Fox’s hand. “Come on.” She was already tick-tocking her hips.
I didn’t stick around to see if he went to grind it out with her. I ignored Whitney’s, “No, stay,” and went to my empty room where I downed two extra-strength ibuprofens and shoved myself under the sheet, begging sleep to come before any tears arrived.