Chapter 19
Iflip from radio station to radio station on my way home, but every damn song sets me on edge, making me want something I can’t have.
Him.
I never realized exactly how frustrating this could be. It’s not that wanting what I can’t have is new to me—because it certainly isn’t. But normally I’m able to bury the craving deep beneath all the other feelings I don’t want to face.
I’m failing this time.
Going home to spend Saturday night by myself just won’t do tonight, but going out to a bar by myself doesn’t sound like fun either.
This is when it’d be nice to have friends. But working all the time makes having friends inconvenient at best and impossible at worst.
I pull into a parking spot a block away from my apartment, and pick my way down the broken concrete sidewalk to the gate that once again reminds me of the club and the man I’ve got to stop thinking about.
When the metal clangs shut behind me, Harriet’s voice comes from the base of the curved wrought iron staircase just outside her back door that leads up to my apartment.
“Oh good. You saved me from having to climb those awful stairs. I was just about to leave you a note.”
“What’s going on?”
She’s wearing a peach feather boa and a jaunty hat in the same color sits on her curls.
“Taking a last-minute trip with a gentleman friend. I’m past due for renewing my membership in the mile-high club.” Her statement is so matter of fact, that I can’t help but choke on my laugh.
“Where are you headed?”
“Norway, I think. Or maybe he said Nicaragua. It could’ve been Naples. Regardless, it’ll be a good time. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Maybe a month. We’ll see how long he can entertain me.” She bustles over to hug me, and the feather boa tickles my nose. “Take care of yourself, dear. Get some dick.”
I bite my lip to keep my mouth from dropping open as she steps away. Instead, I give her a serious nod. “I’ll work on that.”
She turns, but then spins back around and points at me. “You made something new, didn’t you?”
I nod. “I did.”
“It’s about damn time. That heron is mine if you ever decide to sell it, so don’t you dare unload it while I’m gone.” She waves and twirls, disappearing back into her place through the back door. “Be safe! Don’t forget to use condoms for group sex!” She shuts and locks it without another backward glance, which is probably good because once more, I’m dumbstruck.
As I climb the curving metal staircase, I shake my head. An octogenarian is living a bigger life than me. Or septuagenarian. Either way, Harriet is grabbing life by the horns and I’m ... waiting for it to come to me.
It’s not until I’m stepping out of the shower that a small voice breaks through my conflicting thoughts. What if I don’t wait? What if I go after it?
I can’t get the possibility out of my head as I wipe the steam from the mirror and face myself.
“Am I done waiting?” I ask my reflection. After a beat, I answer myself. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Wrapped in a towel, I pad out to my living area and grab my phone off the table. I find a number I’ve never had the occasion to use and tap out a text.
Temperance: Will I be able to get into the club tonight if I don’t have a card?
My two frontteeth worry my lower lip as I set my phone down on the table. Magnolia Maison doesn’t strike me as the type to reply right away.
I force myself to head back into the bathroom and leave it be. That lasts about thirty seconds before I spin around to grab the phone and leave it on the edge of the sink while I do my makeup.
Either way, I’m not going to stay holed up in my apartment tonight. I’m going out, and I’m going to live.