2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a careful dance of avoidance, neither of us knowing what to say. It wasn't the first time we'd argued about my pessimistic outlook, and it wouldn't be the last.
By the time early evening rolled around, I could no longer take the awkward silence and decided that I needed to get out of the apartment. I had work later that night, but after the morning's tragic audition, my turbulent brain demanded a drink. Besides, it wasn’t like I needed to be totally sober for my job at the Taco Hut. Making crappy fast food for stoners wasn’t exactly complicated.
I grabbed my blue hoodie with the gray pocket I added years ago and tied it around my waist. Pausing in the hallway, I debated whether I should tell Jenn that I was leaving. When a giggle filtered through the door, I decided against it. If she had her good mood back, I didn’t want to ruin things again.
We would talk tomorrow like nothing ever happened, as if I had never screamed at her, and everything would be back to normal.
Or back to whatever passed for normal in my life.
The blast of cool air from the AC sent a delightful shiver through my body as I stepped into Dingo’s Den, the best dive bar in Passaic. The owner might be too cheap to repair the torn brown vinyl on most of the booths, and he was definitely too cheap to replace the wobbly stools tucked up at the bar, but at least he splurged on a solid air conditioner. A feature I was immensely grateful for during the hot Jersey summers. I could deal with sticky floors, body odor, and dirty bathrooms, provided I endured it in sixty-eight degree temperatures.
Rum and coke in hand, I headed over to the booth with the fewest rips and no mystery stains. It was early evening on a Tuesday, so the place was fairly empty aside from the usual three or four hardcore alcoholics hunched over the bar.
I threw back a swig, savoring the delicious burn that rolled down my throat. Aside from Klonopin, liquor was the only thing that helped quiet the anxious voices in my head.
The booth shook slightly as a body slid onto the bench opposite mine, and my hand tightened on my drink in annoyance that my peace was being disrupted. “Hey buddy, I’m not looking for…”
The rest of the words got lost somewhere between the table and the face of my new companion.
“Me?” the man supplied, the corner of his lip curling up into a knowing smile. A smile that actively showcased the most perfect dimple in the history of mankind. I was pretty sure my mouth hung open slightly as I took in his smooth tan skin and chin-length blond hair that draped artfully over his rich amber eyes.
My gaze slid further down, settling on the toned muscles of his chest and arms. They were strong and robust, complete with strange tribal tattoos winding around them to disappear under his gray shirt. They didn't look like steroid muscles, but I couldn't fathom the gym hours needed to build them naturally.
The man cleared his throat, and I brought my attention back to his face, hoping he hadn't noticed my blatant ogling. I was not usually the type to drool over a pretty face. “I’m sorry. I was just, uh… not expecting anyone to join me,” I blurted out.
“As I am the one intruding it would seem apologies are not necessary, Miss…?”
I paused, trying to analyze his unique accent before replying. “Rain. Just Rain. No Miss.”
He smiled at that like my words were somehow amusing. “Oh, I do not believe that you are just anything, Rain. But if I was required to select only one, I would say…” his eyes searched mine, excitement brewing in their depths. “You, Rain, are just marvelous.”
I shifted under the weight of his gaze, unaccustomed to anyone saying such awkwardly poignant things about me.
“Umm…” I bit my lower lip, searching for something clever to say in response to his compliment. “Thanks, I guess.”
Oh yeah… real clever.
I shook my head to wake up my sleeping brain cells and tried again. “I’m sorry, did you need something?”
He leaned forward on his elbows, the energy of a delighted puppy coming off him in waves. “I understand my presence here is confusing, but yes, I do very much need your help.”
I wiped a bit of condensation off my glass as I processed his words. Surely there was no legitimate reason that this walking statue of a Greek god could need my help.
“Okay, I’ll play. How about we start with your name and follow that up with how you found me and what you seem to think I can help with?”
“Your request is fair enough,” he replied. “My name is Deylan. Though most refer to me as Dey. I found you by simply following you from the place you currently call home. As for what I need your help with…”
“Excuse me?” I interrupted, my brain focusing on one specific part of his statement. “Did you just say that you’ve been following me?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, not even the slightest bit unnerved by my outburst.
“Okay,” I said, tossing back the last of my drink and gathering up my canvas bag. “This has been… something. But I need to go to work and you need to find someone else to stalk because whoever you think I am, I’m not her.”
He frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but I was out the front door before he could utter the first syllable.