Chapter 5
Chapter Five
My head is pounding. I drank way too much last night. I don’t normally drink on a Monday or while I’m working long shifts, but I needed something to wash away . . . I shake my head irritated with myself for even thinking twice about Constance much less thinking about her the minute I wake up.
Women don’t affect me. Not usually. But there’s something about her, something different that made me want to spend time with her, still kind of do.
Fuck. I enjoy a good morning tug, but she’s got Big Richard all screwed up.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s all fucked up over her too.
My annoyance with his floppy behavior is unsettling on many levels.
I reach over and pop some Ibuprofen, then down a bottle of water from my nightstand. Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. It’s still dark out. If I can get my ass out of bed, I can run the bridge while the sun is rising.
Motivation is key when it comes to me. Watching the sunrise while on the Brooklyn Bridge is something I like to do at least once a week.
One reason is there’s nobody on the pedestrian path at that time of day.
Another, I get to laugh at the poor saps commuting into Manhattan.
I’m so glad I don’t have to report to an eight-to-five five days a week.
I did that for years and I never want to do it again.
Seeing the suits stuck in their cars and cabs reminds me of how good I have it.
Motivation, my friend. Mot-i-vation.
I flip the covers off and head to the bathroom. After shaking the snake, I pull on a pair of tighter than a duck’s ass compression pants and then loose athletic pants. I’m not letting anyone see me in tights, but they keep me warm, so two layers it is.
Three layers on the upper body, gloves, thick socks, sneakers, and a hat and I’m out the door running.
My headache has subsided and pounding the pavement beats my head pounding.
My breath comes out in puffs of white air as I work my way through the neighborhood and up toward the bridge.
It’s a sea of red brake lights on my approach.
I smirk, feeling mighty proud that I’m choosing to be awake at this hour instead of forced to be.
There’s a difference, and I worked hard to have the option.
Pumping my arms, the slow incline becomes easier as I pick up speed.
I see my stopping point ahead and run faster.
I hit my mark and stop, bent over, out of breath.
When I look up at the Manhattan skyline, I’m in awe of the way the sun rises giving the world a golden hue, even if just for a moment in time.
If the run hadn’t, the sunrise would have taken my breath away.
My heart rate evens and I stand there at the mercy of its beauty. Forget last night and troubles that aren’t really troubles. Look at the hope that rises in the east and sets in the west. Today is a new day, wiping our slates clean again.
I start to get cold standing there, so I continue jogging the rest of the bridge enjoying the view with the slower pace. I cut right, heading for the Manhattan Bridge to loop back to Brooklyn. Stopped at a light, I push the button impatiently ready to carry on with my run and get back.
“Hardy?”
I swear I heard my name. Looking over my shoulder, nope. No one there.
“Hardy?” Glancing over my other shoulder there’s a yellow cab.
The passenger window is up and the cab driver looks half asleep.
My gaze follows further back. Looking too beautiful for hers or my own good, I smile just from seeing her.
Constance. Shit. It’s not Constance. I forgot.
It’s Virginia. “Hi,” she says as if I’ve just made her day.
I’m still smiling like a loon when I realize I’m supposed to be mad at her.
“Hey,” I reply, checking to make sure the light hasn’t changed.
That sinking feeling from last night sits solidly in the gut of my stomach.
“You live in Brooklyn?” I ask, making casual conversation since we’re both stuck awkwardly at the same light. “I figured you for a Manhattanite.”
“I am.” Her expression falls, reading mine. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry.”
“No need,” I reply, waving the apology away so I don’t have to accept it. The pedestrian signal gives me the go-ahead, so go ahead I do. “Have a good life.”
“Bye,” I hear behind me as I jog forward.
Here’s the problem with the city—too many damn lights. Not twenty-five yards later and we’re both stuck at a light right next to each other again. When I spy her cab next to me, I start debating: should I say hi again or pretend I don’t see her?
“Hi again,” she says.
“Hi,” I acknowledge her against my better judgment, but I hate being rude even if we’re only meant to be a one-time kind of thing.
Besides mucking up my morning wood earlier, now she’s screwing with my body and mind.
I look down and see my pants pushing out.
My jog is supposed to center me. I usually have clarity and solid focus afterwards, but when I look down, I’m solid all right.
I’m actually impressed with the strength of these compression pants.
They’re doing a fair job of restraining the will of a thousand armies down there.
I’m still cautious about looking at her directly.
She has some kind of super power that makes me want to toss my heart right into the ring of fire.
And I’m not talking about anal, though I’m not opposed to that, quite the opposite. Fuck.
She interrupts my pity party. “It’s good to see you again.”
I pack away my tiny imaginary violin, and rub the back of my neck. “You mean from the last block?”
“No, from last night.”
“Yeah, okay.” I’m not sure what else to say to that.
The woman vexes me. First off, how does someone who looks like her stay a virgin?
Secondly, is she still a virgin after last night or did she give it up to that asshole after I warmed her up?
Fucking asshole. I start running because the street is clear of traffic and I don’t know what to say to her.
Does she want me to make her feel better?
Tell her it’s okay that she made me feel used and slightly dirty, though the dirty part in reference to good or bad is still up for debate?
The cars start moving just as I reach the next intersection. In my peripheral I see the bright yellow cab slowly pulling up to the light. “For fuck’s sake. What the fuck?”
The cabbie’s passenger window rolls down and he leans down so I can see him. “Hey, mister, this could be a lot less weird if you hear the lady out.”
The back window rolls down and Constance Virginia looks mortified. The problem is she looks so damn good, even in mortification, that I walk up to the cab and open the door. “Scoot over.” After I slide in next to her, I shut the door, and ask, “Where are we headed?”
The driver replies in a crotchety voice, “Financial District.”
Oh, now he’s bothered. The irony is not missed. Turning toward her, I ask, “Why?”
The cab starts moving again, and Con—Virginia answers, “Because I’ll be late to work if we don’t.”
“You work in the Financial District?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a financial analyst.”
“I swore off that industry when I left Manhattan three years ago.”
“What do you mean you swore it off?”
“Why did you lie about your name?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to be someone else for the night.”
“Why?”
“The truth is I was ashamed to be doing what I was doing.”
“What were you doing?”
“I wanted to feel good. I wanted to know what it feels like. Katie says I’m beautiful. I think I am, but something’s broken because I can’t seem to find love.”
“With a stranger? As for love, you weren’t looking for love, sweetheart.
You were looking for a good time. I get it.
I really do, but that’s not how your first time should go down.
” My gaze dips down her body, that feeling in my gut returns.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner. “Considering you’re wearing the same clothes as last night, guess you found it anyway. ”
The cab comes to a stop and as much as I want to know why she’s shame-cabbing it back into the city.
The stop is my cue. I open the door and get out.
Just as she’s about to speak, I say, “Have a good life, Virginia.” I shut the door and start running again.
With the Manhattan Bridge up ahead, I pick up speed not wanting to get trapped at a light again.
When I make a right, back on track, I’m tempted to look back, but I know there’s no point.
She slept with that asshole after spending time with me.
There’s nothing really to discuss anymore.
When I turn down my street, I go inside the coffee shop. The morning line is long, but I wait. Watching people is a good way to take my mind off things. My favorite barista is working today. When I reach the counter, she eyes me over the pastry display. “Good morning, Hardy.”
“Good morning, Luisa.”
She giggles as her smile grows. “What can I get you this morning?”
“The usual.”
With a tease in her tone, she says, “Coming right up.”
Not able to stop my mind going to the gutter, I reply, “You’re naughty this morning, but I’m naughtier at night.” I wink.
“I remember all too well, Hardy.”
“When are you going to stop in The Hideaway again?”
She raises her hand and wiggles her finger. “No more Hideaway for me. The boyfriend has become the fiancé.”
“Whoa,” I say, thrilled for her. “That’s fantastic news. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Just happened over the weekend, so it’s new.” She shrugs to play it off.
“I’m happy for you, Luisa. You deserve good things.”
That brightens her back up. She hands me my coffee—simple, classic, black—and leans in. “You do too, Hardy. Don’t settle for anything less.” Speaking in her usual chipper voice, she says, “Coffee’s on me. Have a great Tuesday.”