4. Plans Change
four
Plans Change
Leah
“ H ere you go,” I say to Amy as I set our drinks down on the table.
“Okay, spill it. Who is the hottie you were talking to?”
“Oh, uh, he said his name was Dylan.”
“Did he ask for your number?” She asks while taking a sip of her fruity drink.
“No. We didn’t get that far. I spilled some drinks on him, and then, we just exchanged some pleasantries.”
“Do you think he’s cute?”
“Well, duh. Tall? Muscular? Dark hair? Of course. But in a very golden retriever kind of way. If you like him, go get him,” I encourage.
“Nah, you know I like them blonde…and younger than me.”
We both laugh, but Amy stops a little too suddenly. All evening, she’s been off. Usually, the two of us go out, and it’s almost a contest to see who can get the craziest. We are all fun and no drama. But tonight, she seems like she’s hiding something.
Every laugh abruptly stops. Every smile fades too suddenly. And her eyes seem to avoid mine as much as possible.
“Alright, Amy. What’s going on?”
I sip my Jack and Coke. “You beg me to come out so that we can have fun and let loose, yet all night long, you’ve been acting weird. It’s like you have something to say, but you can’t spit it out. Let’s quit beating around the bush.”
She taps her finger on the table, searching for the right words.
I exclaim, “Oh, my gosh! Are you firing me?”
“No, of course not. But I did get some bad news about my mom.”
Amy’s mom has been in a nursing home for a while now with a myriad of health issues.
“Shit, Amy. What happened?”
“Health-wise, she’s about the same. But her insurance isn’t going to cover the cost of her nursing home anymore. It’s a long story, and I won’t bore you with all the details, but after going through all my options, the only choice I have is to move her in with me.”
The reason for her apprehension becomes very apparent. “And you’re going to need room for her, which means I can’t keep crashing on your couch.”
“Yeah,” she replies with sympathy written all over her face.
It all makes sense now. She thought I’d be mad at her for telling me I had to go somewhere else. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Amy and I worked together at a big tattoo parlor in Portland and became best friends. After she moved here to Kensington to open her own place, I found myself in a bad situation with no way out. When I called Amy to vent, she offered me a job and a place to stay. No questions asked. She gave me the fresh start that I needed.
I’ll never be able to repay her for everything she’s done for me.
So, no, I’m not upset that she can’t continue to be my crutch forever.
Fear is written all over her face as she waits for my response.
“Amy,” I begin. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” She cries. “I feel horrible! I know that this was supposed to be your new start. I don’t want to push you back into any of the bad situations you were in before.”
I hold up my hand to stop her because I know Amy, and she’ll ramble all damn night.
“Woman, you have to take a breath. I am so appreciative of everything you’ve done for me. I’m not going to be mad at you for needing to take care of your sick mom. I totally get it. And it’s about time I get my own place anyway.”
“I just feel like such an asshole.”
“Don’t. I’m almost thirty. It’s time.” I take another sip of my drink. “How long before I need to be out?”
“Probably in about a month or so. I still have some things I need to work out—finding a nurse for her and all that.”
“A month? No problem.”
I say the words with all the confidence in the world, but I know the actual act won’t be that easy. Due to my stupid decisions in my past, I have shit credit. And because of my irresponsible tendencies, I don’t have a ton of savings.
But I’m not going to say any of that to Amy. She feels bad enough without me piling it on .
“I really am sorry,” she says. “If I had my way, you and I would stay roommates. It’s so much more fun that way.”
“I agree,” I reply with a smile.
My mind races with all the things I’m going to have to do in the coming days. There are a million things to figure out.
But tonight, I don’t want to worry about any of it. I just want to have a good time with my best friend.
I want to forget about all the stress. Although from this point forward, I should probably be worried about my spending habits, but that will also be something for tomorrow’s Leah to handle.
Tonight, I want to drink to dull the pain and forget all the bullshit.
Without even thinking about it, I down the rest of my Jack and Coke and slam the empty glass down on the table.
Amy leans forward and talks in a low voice. “Don’t look now, but Mr. Sexy Golden Retriever is on his way over here.”
“What do you think he wants?” I joke.
“Oh, I’m sure I can guess.” She takes a second glance. “Oh, and it looks like he’s bringing a friend.”
I turn around to sneak a peek, and I see the friend is exactly Amy’s type.
When I came out tonight, I planned on taking it easy. I had no intention of getting wasted or even acknowledging any guys. But I also didn’t think I’d be informed that I would soon be homeless.
Plans change.
I’m just going to roll with it.
“Hi,” Dylan says in a low voice as he reaches our table .
“Hey.” I return his smile.
“Can we join you?”
“What happened to your group?” I ask.
“Decided this would be more fun.”
Oh, he’s smooth. A regular Casanova.
This guy is completely opposite of the men I usually keep company with. The ones in my past have been heavily tattooed. Half of them have been chain smokers, and the others had assorted other substance issues. Most were not the best choice in partners. I get that. It’s not that I seek out the jerks. They just have a way of finding me.
This guy, though, seems like a cute little puppy rather than an asshole.
Maybe the alcohol is just hitting me harder than expected. At this point, I don’t care what it is. I think I’m ready to let Wild Leah out of her cage.
“So, can we join you?” He asks. “Oh, this is my friend, Jamie.”
Before I can introduce Amy, she holds out her hand and does it herself. She stares at Jamie like he’s a piece of meat or something.
I say, “Sure, you can join us. But first, I’m going to need another drink.”
“Come on. I’ll go with you,” Dylan offers.
I look back to see if Amy is okay with that, but she’s already in a conversation with Jamie who has taken a seat.
I guess she’s fine.
Dylan and I walk to the bar, snaking through the small crowd that has gathered.
When we reach it, he asks, “What’s your poison?”
“Amy likes a tequila sunrise. ”
“And you?”
“Jack and Coke.”
He lets out a small laugh. “Those are two remarkably different drink orders.”
“We are two remarkably different people. Our tattoos are about our biggest similarity.”
The bartender hands over all our drinks, and Dylan hands her some cash.
“You don’t have to pay,” I tell him. “I should, considering I already spilled shit all over you earlier. I’m going to owe you more favors than I can count.”
“How about we play some darts, and we’ll call it even?”
“You want me to whip you at darts, and the slate is clean?”
He starts laughing, showing off his handsome smile. And motherfucker, the man has dimples.
Fucking dimples.
“You really are that confident in your ability to beat me at darts?” He asks.
“Oh, one hundred percent.”
As we are walking up to the table, he replies, “I think someone is awfully cocky.”
“Just confident.”
Amy asks, “What are you two talking about?”
“Dylan here thinks he can beat me at darts.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, buddy, that’s a bad idea. When Leah starts drinking, she gets ridiculously good at everything. Pool. Bowling. Darts. She turns into Rain Man or something. She’ll whoop your ass.”
“Okay, well, now I have to see it,” Dylan replies .
Jamie comes to his friend’s defense. “You may be surprised, but Dyl is pretty damn good too. He’ll give you a run for your money for sure.”
“I’m down to play,” I tell him.
He and I each grab our drinks and head to the boards. We look back to see if Amy and Jamie will join us, but they seem to already be locked in a deep conversation.
Dylan says, “They seem to be hitting it off.”
“Oh, yeah. Jamie is definitely her type.”
He sets down his drink and pulls all the darts out of one of the boards. “So, Miss Leah, why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”
“Hmm. Do you want to know what I do for work or about the bodies in my basement?”
My sense of humor doesn’t land well with some people. Well, most people. It’s pretty dark, and sometimes, I don’t realize how off-putting it can be until I’ve already said something weird.
I wait for the strange look I’m about to get, but Dylan surprises me with, “Bodies. Definitely bodies. We can compare numbers.”
“Oh, I lost count a while ago,” I joke. “Look, I hate all the awkward forced small talk. Let’s just get the boring shit out of the way,” I say.
“Man, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Not even a little bit. I hate the bullshit. Besides that, I’m twenty-nine but will be thirty later this year. And I’m a tattoo artist. I’m a bit of a mess the majority of the time. Yes, I have family, but I don’t want to talk about any of them. ”
I figure he’s about to ask some personal question that I don’t want to answer, but he surprises me once again. “Well, as you know, I’m Dylan. I live over in Lilly Leaf Falls, and I’m a mechanic. I have a buttload of siblings, but I’m by far the coolest—and the least crazy—one out of all of them.”
“That’s what the crazy ones always say.”
He grins. “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”
I watch him wind up to take his first shot on the dart board. My eyes skim over his toned arms. Veins rope from his large hands all the way up his biceps and disappear under his t-shirt.
The t-shirt that fits him like a glove and shows off his muscular frame. He’s not overly bulky, but he’s got enough to be impressive.
My type or not, Dylan is fun to look at.
He takes his first shot and hits about an inch away from the bullseye. He looks pretty proud of himself.
Aw, he’s cute.
He hands me my three darts, and I line up my first shot. I pull back without thinking about it much and let it fly. It hits right on the edge of the center circle.
His eyes go wide, but he tries to play it off. “Lucky shot.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
We both pause to nurse our drinks a little more.
He asks, “A tattoo artist, huh?”
“Yeah.” I look my tatted sleeves up and down. “Not surprising?”
“I guess not.” He laughs.
“Do you have any?”
“Nope. ”
“Don’t like them?” I ask.
“Oh, I love them.” He looks at me with a certain lust in his eye. “I’ve just never got around to doing one. Plus, I have no idea what I’d get.”
“Fair enough. You should come into the shop one day and let me draw you something.”
“What kind of tats do you normally do?”
“Anything, really.”
“I may just have to take you up on that.”
I point to the board. “You’re up, buttercup.”
He takes his turn and hits slightly closer than the first time. On my turn, I hit right in the center.
“Okay, I may have underestimated you,” He says with a nod.
A waitress appears next to us, asking if we are ready for another round. Dylan looks at me to see what I think.
“Yes, please,” I tell her. “And can we also have a couple of tequila shots?” I hand her my card and ask her to open up a tab.
Dylan’s eyebrows raise. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just trying to forget my problems.”
We each take our last shot on the dartboard, and it’s no surprise that I get closer than him once again.
The waitress arrives with our drinks, and we each take a shot in hand.
“Okay,” he announces. “That was just a practice round. I’m just getting warmed up.”
I throw my head back and let the tequila coat my throat.
So am I.