Chapter 39 #2
Cliff sat back in his chair and waited. They all did. The spotlight was on her. He was curious if Jamie could let down her guard enough to share the truth, like they all had.
She fought it. “Not everyone has a sad singles story, you know,” Jamie quipped. “Just everyone at this table.”
They all wadded up their napkins and threw them at her.
Jamie finally relented. “Okay, okay.” She stared at the floor and played with the stem of her wine glass. She started slowly. “The truth is, I shouldn’t be here.”
“What does that mean? Are you married?” Rick asked.
Jamie let out a sigh. “One night, I was attacked by a man who escaped police custody. My testimony would have put him away for a long time. It was dark that night, no moon, pitch black. He came for me with a rope and a can of gasoline. I woke up to the smell of hot, sour breath in my face, and a man twisting a rope around my neck. I’ll never forget how course the fibers felt, like they could tear into me, or tear me apart.
” Jamie paused and lightly touched her neck, remembering.
“I could feel the sheer force of his rage. He was laughing while he did it. I tried to fight, but he was so strong. I remember the blank, dead look in his eyes, like a shark in a frenzy. The stench of sweat and gasoline, and that he only had half an earlobe. He kept telling me he was going to set me on fire. That I deserved to burn.”
Cliff squinted at this information. Wait, what?
“Jesus,” Shannon said.
“Oh my god,” Holly added.
“How did you get away?”
“My police captain had a hunch he would come after me. Seconds after I blacked out, officers stormed my apartment. But, the trauma of the attack left me…” Jamie trailed off, still staring at the floor.
“Left you what?” Gentle prodding from Shannon.
“When I recovered, the trauma of that attack left me changed. Warped, I suppose you could say. I didn’t feel safe, even in my own head.
I ended up leaving my job. Soon after that, I found out my thirty-five-year-old boyfriend was actually a middle-aged man with a fiancé in London.
So, if there was any silver lining, it was that I found out he was a duplicitous, lying cad before I sold everything and moved to England.
My relationship fell apart, my career fell apart, everything fell apart. ”
“Shit,” Shannon said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Cliff added. But here she was, he thought, taking a chance anyway.
Jamie looked up at him with an appreciative glance.
“So, I guess my mother’s ultimatum sort of forced me back into the dating pool and well, let me just say—it is as awful as I remember it,” Jamie chirped with a tear in her eye but a small smile on her face.
Cliff saw the gathering emotion in her eyes.
The group had a chuckle.
“Dinner for Six. Worst date ever,” Rick said and raised his glass in a toast.
“Do not recommend,” Holly joined in.
“Zero stars,” Kyle piped up.
“Never again,” Shannon added.
“Terrible,” Cliff said with a smile.
“I barely survived,” Shannon added as she put on lip gloss. “But seeing as we have survived this date, anyone want to keep in touch? Kinda like a support group?” There was a collective shrug. “Great, I’ll get everyone’s number and put us on a text chain,” Shannon said brightly.
Everyone raised their glasses just as the SWAT team marched back into the restaurant with an update. “Detective Sergeant Arliss Roverson will be joining us in just a few minutes,” one of them said.
“Excuse me, I just need a minute.” Jamie got up and walked in the direction of the bathroom. Holly and Rick made their way to the bar. Shannon went to go find her purse.
Cliff stood idle for a moment before walking over to Kyle, who was sitting with his back against the wall, twisting a napkin into shreds.
“What’s up, compadre? What happened with Shannon?”
Kyle shook his head. “That singles prayer list sucks.”
“Ah, yes. The power of prayer at work again.”
“I could never hope to get a girl as wonderful as her.”
They looked over at Shannon, who was consumed by reorganizing her bag. She stopped to put on frosted pink lip gloss and toss out an empty pack of cigarettes.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Kyle. You two seemed like you were really hitting it off. What happened?”
“She brought up gaming.”
“Are you a gamer?” Cliff asked.
Kyle hesitated and said in a frustrated whisper, “I wish I wasn’t, okay?
But I am. And I know that being a gamer basically precludes me from dating most decent women.
My friend’s wife hates us and him and I don’t want that kind of relationship, but I’ve tried to quit and I can’t so I’m doomed to be single forever. ”
Cliff took this in and asked, “What’s your drug of choice?”
“World of Warcraft.”
“Mmm, I’ve been on a quest or two. So, you’re afraid to be your true gaming self in front of the delicate flower that is Shannon?” Cliff nearly snorted.
Another peek at Shannon, who had found a piece of gum in the bottom of her bag and was smacking it while she inspected more tubes of lipstick.
“Exactly.”
“How do you know she hates gamers?”
“Be serious. All decent women hate gamers. Especially goddesses like her.” Kyle rested his hopeless head on his hand.
“Au contraire, my friend. I know your experience with your friend’s evil wife might be all you know, but plenty of people play video games.
Normal, employed, fully involved in healthy relationships.
Tech bros and actors made it cool. Trust me, it does not have the stain of shame on it like the Dungeons & Dragons players of the nineties. ”
Kyle gave him a dubious expression. “I don’t know, man.”
“What’s your favorite quest?” Cliff changed gears.
Kyle’s frustration seemed to melt away as he thought about the question. He took this seriously. “It’s a tie between Silverpine and Wandering Isles. I like blasting the ship and healing the turtles.”
“That’s … sweet.” Cliff smiled even though those gaming levels were out his pay grade. He got up and said, “Be right back.”
Cliff got up, crossed the room to where Shannon was sitting with her enormous bag.
“Permission to sit?”
“It’s a free country.”
Cliff sat down on a chair next to Shannon with his back to Kyle. As he spoke, her eyes brightened and she blew a bubble with her gum and smiled in Kyle’s direction.