12. Burlap Loin Cloth
TWELVE
BURLAP LOIN CLOTH
Rylee
It’s more quiet than usual for a Friday afternoon at Porter’s, but I shouldn’t complain. It gives me an opportunity to stock the coolers before patrons fill the bar. Jake booked a local band, and band nights always draw a large crowd. As the golden liquid of the IPA rises in the glass, my thoughts drift to Trey. Which they’ve been doing more and more of lately. It's hard to deny that his persistent pursuit of me is rather flattering. But off in the distance, red flags fly, reminding me of none other than my ex-husband. Even when we’re not together, the ex still somehow manages to ruin things for me. Besides that, what else was unsettling is what happened when I left the parking lot the other night.
The cold beer flows over the rim, splashing on my hand. “Shit.” I snap the tap back into place and grab a towel from under the bar. I wipe down the glass and pass it to the customer.
I rest my butt against the edge of the beer cooler and stare at an invisible spot on the far wall. Normally, I'm always levelheaded. I've always had to be, especially in the last six years. But now, suddenly everything is a distraction.
“I’m not staring at your chest. Well technically I am, but just to double check that you’re breathing. You’ve been standing like a statue for the past five minutes. For a second, I thought maybe you were dead, but then your chest rose, and I felt a little better about not staring at a dead person. Is everything okay?” Lach asks, his tone laced with concern.
I crane my neck toward him and furrow my brows. “I don’t know how to process everything you just said, but yeah.”
He runs his hand through his chestnut locks, moving the strands off his forehead. His normally bright blue eyes darken with concern. “Are you sure?”
“Actually, not really.” I sigh. “Have you ever noticed a dark colored, maybe gray or navy, older truck parked in the parking lot? It’s missing the passenger side mirror.” I tilt my head and roll my lips between my teeth. A part of me wants him to know who the owner is, so I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder every time I leave here.
His eyebrows pinch together. “There are a lot of vehicles in the parking lot.”
“Yeah.” I pause. Then turn to face him. “It’s just when I was leaving yesterday, a truck followed me out and tailed me for several blocks.”
He stops, bottles of beer in his hand, and glances up at me. “Did you make three right turns?”
I prop my hand against the beer cooler. “I did, but they never followed me after the second.”
“See. It was just a coincidence. Nothing to worry about.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.
Something about the whole situation still seems off, but it was one time, and it could very well be a coincidence. “You’re probably right.” I push all those thoughts aside and finish stocking the cooler.
Several hours later, the traffic inside Porter’s picks up. I’m serving customers on one side of the bar while Lach’s on the other. Jake is floating and serving customers as needed. Dessa strides in and gives us a head nod. A few steps behind her is Chad. Ignoring our presence, he walks by with his hood pulled tightly over his head. Ever since Jake demoted him, he’s been coming into work like a calm bomb. Everyone tiptoes around him because we don’t know when he’ll detonate.
A sliver of outside light from the door catches my eye and I glance up. Immediately, I’m met with a very familiar face smiling at me. He stalks toward the bar. Since he can’t find a seat, he squeezes himself between customers.
He rests an elbow on the bar and leans in. “Go on a date with me?”
“Wow. Right to the point.” I finish pouring a beer and passing it to a customer next to him. Then I give Trey my undivided attention. “I don’t think so.”
Dessa strolls behind me and sing songs, “Just do it.”
I swing around and glare at her, but she only smirks.
“See, you’re the only one fighting this.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Alright, how about this? You can have another ride on the Continental Trey Express. I’ll even let you pick your seat, but there are only two options.” He points to his mouth then to his lap, an irresistibly sexy smile on his lips.
“Yeah. I got it.” I roll my eyes. “I’d rather take the date.”
“Perfect!” He slaps his hand on the bar top, startling me and the guy next to him. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
“Wait. I never said—”
“Oh yes. I do believe you said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather take the date.’”
“Of course you’d take that at face value.”
“If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s to take any opportunity given to you. I saw it and I took it. But I’ll give you an out. Just say the word. Two letters.”
Take any opportunity given to you. His words flash through my mind like a marquee. It’s only a date. I can spare a date. Plus, I’m a teeny tiny bit curious about what a date with Trey would be like. I peel my gaze off his as I grab a cardboard coaster and flip it over. I scribble my address and phone number on it and slide it across the bar. He flips it over. A sexy smirk pulls at his lips as he scans what I wrote. Then he tucks the cardboard into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“But I can’t do tomorrow.”
“Next Friday?”
“I can’t do Friday, either. How about Saturday?” My heart thunders in my chest and I can’t explain why. Am I nervous he won’t be able to do Saturday?
“Saturday it is. I will text you the details.”
A wide smile covers his face. It’s not the ‘I want to take your clothes off’ smile that I’ve seen so many times, but instead is a boyish grin. Like I’ve made his entire year. I won’t lie, it’s a smile that makes me regret not saying yes sooner. “Also, just so we’re clear, this is only a friends type date.”
“The friendliest.” He winks before strolling away.
I can’t help but admire how his slacks mold perfectly to his backside. He abruptly stops and I glance up. A woman with honey hair halts his progress with a hand on his arm. Her red stained lips move as she speaks while batting her long, dark lashes.
“I’ve never actually seen someone crush a glass bottle with their hands. Today could be my day.”
I glance at Dessa to my left and she nods at the bottle of rum in my hand.
I loosen my grip and the color floods back into my hand. “Who does that? Take one girl’s number and address, then turns around and flirts with another girl.”
“If you ask me, Trey isn’t doing the flirting.”
I roll my eyes, mostly because I know she’s right. In fact, Trey has completely ignored every single one of her advances.
A knowing smirk covers her face. “Are you jealous?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I have no right to be. We’re not a couple.”
“But you know you could change that.”
“You’re forgetting one key fact. Trey doesn’t do relationships. I don’t do relationships with guys like Trey. We’re just going on a friendly date.”
She faces me, hand on her hip. “And you’re forgetting one key fact. He pursued the fuck out of you. Guys who want a friendly date don’t do that.”
Ugh. She’s right. Deep down, I know that, but it’s easier if I convince myself that it’s nothing more than friends.
“Be a little selfish. Do this for you. And whatever happens,” she curls her thumb and pointer finger into an O and stabs her pointer finger on her other hand through the hole, “do it for you.” Her mouth falls open as she rolls her eyes, faking an orgasm.
I slap her hands apart, and she laughs. Flashbacks of straddling his lap in his SUV, his cock stretching me while he tongues my nipple flit through my mind and right now, I could use a little finger in the O.
* * *
All weekend, I’ve been thinking about my date with Trey. Most importantly, I’ve been on edge about what he has planned. He did text me what time he’ll pick me up but gave me no other clues. It’s been months, hell, probably closer to years, since I’ve gone on an actual date. Dinner and a movie kind of date. And I don’t even know if we’re doing dinner and a movie. Or what I should wear.
With my laptop pulled out to my online banking and bills scattered across the thoroughly aged dining room table, I let out a heavy sigh. With the measly four figure number sitting in my bank account, it’s best I don’t go date outfit shopping. Whatever I have in the closet will have to do. But I make a mental note of what I can spend in case he expects me to pay for myself. My foot bounces as I eye my phone next to me. All I want to know is what our date entails so I can dress accordingly. That’s not too much to ask, right? I pick up my phone and send a text to Trey.
Rylee
What’s appropriate attire for our date?
Trey
Thinking about our date, are we?
Rylee
Just thinking of what to wear. I don’t want to show up looking like a trash panda.
Trey
You could show up wearing a burlap sack and you’d still be beautiful
.
Heat creeps over my cheeks. It’s been a long time since I’ve been called beautiful. The drunken, slurred compliments at Porter’s don’t count.
Rylee
My sack’s at the dry cleaners. What else do you got?
Trey
You’re welcome to wear what you’d like. Whatever makes you comfortable.
Rylee
That doesn’t help because if that was the case, I would show up in yoga pants and a T-shirt.
Trey
That works for me.
Rylee
This isn’t helping. What are you wearing?
Trey
Burlap loin cloth.
Rylee
HA HA HA
Rylee
What are we doing on our date?
Trey
Don’t like surprises?
Rylee
In this case, no.
Trey
I’ll give you this, there will be food and activities.
Rylee
Still doesn’t help me.
Trey
What we do will depend on you.
Rylee
What does that even mean?
Trey
I’ll see you on Saturday. “winking face emoji*
What the hell kind of date is this? Absolutely zero direction on what to wear, where we’re going, or what we’re doing. It’s time to ask someone who’s been on more dates than I have in the recent years.
Rylee
What does one wear on a date when you know absolutely nothing about how your date is going to go?
Dessa
The real question is, how do you want the date to end?
Rylee
Trey said I could wear a burlap sack if I wanted to.
Dessa
This is what I’d do. Dress sexy as hell and be the sex kitten that we all know you can be.
Rylee
Are you sure you’re not confusing me with Nora? Or yourself?
Dessa
Come over to my house. I have a few dresses that will fit you perfectly.
* * *
After bringing Abby next door to Marcie’s apartment, the next hour is spent getting ready. Half the time was figuring out how to get the dress to lay perfectly over one shoulder while not exposing my left breast. Thankfully, Dessa also gave me some double-sided tape which seemed to do the trick. While standing in front of the full-length mirror, I continue to fidget with the dress. There’s a reason why I don’t wear these on the regular and the spandex tight fabric on my hips is one of them. I shimmy the hem an inch down my thighs, but it's useless, it immediately slides back up. He better appreciate the outfit because come tomorrow my feet with hate me from the three-inch heels. A knock on my front door startles me and I spin around. With one last glance in the mirror, I stroll down the hallway and into the kitchen. My hands rest on the cool wood as I peer through the peephole. My lips split into an enormous grin. I don't even fight to contain it. I grip the doorknob and pull it open.