Chapter 6 #2
He nods as if to himself, unsure what direction to take next with this interaction. It’s odd how this man has sought me out twice now, without bringing his ‘A’ game. Considering how brutally sexy this man is, shouldn’t he have his choice of anyone? Why single out the server girl?
“I’d like to see you again,” he admits, catching me off guard. I did not expect this, but before I could respond, he continued. “Not here, though. Like out… maybe a meal?”
I look around, unsure if anyone is watching, especially my boss. I find Jada watching me from the bar. Is she… leering? As if she knew what was happening here?
“Umm.” A body slides between my coworker and I, allowing me to focus back on the point of contact along with the question. “I think I'd like that.”
His smile is devious, almost as if he already knew I’d say yes.
I go to turn when I remember something concrete on my schedule coming up.
“Not Thursday,” I blurt. “Once a month, I meet with my uncle at Benny’s for a stack of pancakes.”
Well, I get the pancakes; he gets eggs. Sometimes a bowl of yogurt or avocado toast. He has to watch his sugar intake. He’s my only family here, after everyone else left, in some sort of capacity. I haven’t missed a single month since Theo died.
His eyebrow lifts as he studies me, like he’s not used to anyone giving him parameters. His verdant eyes trail over me. Damn, this tray is growing fucking heavier by the second. A smile blooms upon his perfect face, and he gives a single nod. “I’ll see you at the end of your shift.”
Turning toward a very impatient table six, who had to sit by and watch the awkwardly flirtatious exchange, I place down each drink.
My shoulder is instantly relieved. I give an apologetic smile and make my way back to the bar.
Brittany has apparently joined in watching me, leaning with her back against the counter while hugging an empty tray to her chest.
“Ooooo, what’s going on there, Miss Mari?”
I blow air through my lips, making a trilling sound. “Last time a guy gave me his number, you called him and pretended to be me!”
Jada’s upturned smile and crossed arms tell me she’s in a bad mood. Regardless, they’re both constantly on me about putting myself out there, and I wasn’t about to give them anything that could initiate an onslaught of questions.
“That was one time!” Brittany retorts, throwing out a defensive arm.
I know they mean well, but at the rate they eat up men, I wasn’t ready to join their casual cannibal club. I haven’t been ready to entertain the idea of dating again. Am I ready?
I didn’t see Mr. Neat the rest of the night, but I did serve his buddies that took up space at the end of the bar.
A collection of glasses gathered around the friends after a lengthy time just sitting.
The chatty one chewed on a toothpick, shamelessly hitting on anything that walked by with tits.
His companion, however, was as unreadable as he was the previous time I laid eyes on him.
It looked as if the conversationalist ordered for both of them, having no issues with filling the air space.
Occasionally, the chatterbox would elbow the reserved man, lifting his eyebrows suggestively when a miniskirt hovered too close to the duo.
I watched as the quiet ones piercing gray eyes never actually looked at any of the women in question but instead scanned the room with feigned interest. A few times, I swear his gaze landed on me.
An hour ‘til closing, most of the customers have finished their last drink and left, including Mr. Neat’s comrades at the bar.
My ear ached from the foreign earbud, I wish I had taken it off earlier and switched back to my hearing aid. It was too busy this evening and I honestly didn’t have a moment to do so.
I didn’t expect to see him again, until he emerged from the bathroom hallway, walking straight up to me with all the confidence of a man who knows what he wants.
I stand fixed in place, watching him as he reaches into his front pocket and withdraws his cell phone.
He unlocks it and hands it to me. He was serious…
I haven’t been on a date with another man in forever.
Not since Brodi. Even then, he never really took me anywhere.
He did at first, but things started changing over time.
I look down at the phone. An emotional slurry mixing around inside.
I haven’t felt wanted in an awfully long time.
Before I talk myself out of it, I enter my number and hand it back to the smooth operator.
“Cindel. Do I have it right?” he asks.
I can’t help but tilt my head, slightly confused. “Yeah. I’m surprised you pronounced it right. Most people say Citadel or Kindle.”
He slips the phone back into his pocket. “What can I say? I know more than anyone should. Guess I’m not just a pretty face after all.”
Oh, this guy is going to be trouble. He winks at me before striding toward the front door of the bar. When the door swings open, I’m able to see the two other men just outside, apparently waiting for their friend. No one should be that cocky or good looking.
“Shit,” I mutter. He knows my name, but I didn’t get his.
Wait, I didn’t type my name. Did I? Maybe he asked about me. Perhaps one of my coworkers told him my name? That would explain how he got the pronunciation right. Great conversation skills, Cindel! You couldn’t even ask his name?
I continue wiping down sticky tables and collecting empty glasses, when I’m taken aback by the sound of a piano.
It isn’t coming through the bar’s sound system.
Cassie already ensured it was off when we came to the last call of the night.
She claims it encourages people to leave faster.
Take away the ambience and the clientele goes with it.
Music was playing through me. Personalized just for my ears. The notorious 90’s single from the American rock band Semisonic plays “Closing Time.” The song is unsettling. Suggesting, I was taking someone home tonight. Was the person who gave me this here? Am I being watched right now?
I now know better than to try to get rid of the musical device, like I did before. Instead, I attempt to finish cleaning my section in spite of the pounding of my heart. The last few customers gather themselves before stumbling out into the chilly, darkened streets.
When the song ends, I bolt into the backroom to grab my bag. Jada and Brittany are already gone, so I ask Cassie if she needs any more help before I leave.
“No thanks, dear. Enjoy your night.”
With my pepper spray clutched in my fist, I walk home on edge. It was the only song I heard, not being able to keep that thing in my ear another moment. I tossed it into my purse and replaced it with my hearing aid.
A young couple approaching on the sidewalk, causes me to cross over to the other side of the street. I don’t want anyone near me. Especially if it was someone I don’t know. I walk so fast, I don’t see anyone else as I approach my building.
Even though the streets are quiet, it doesn’t help this sinking feeling that I am being watched. Followed.
I’m panting by the time I enter the apartment.
Fortunately, I am alone, so as not to cause my roommate to notice my distressed state.
Sometimes I wish she was here, though. That I could tell her what was happening right now, but with our schedules never aligning, we barely cross paths lately.
Conversations with her are becoming sparse and I can feel us becoming distant.
I check the locks before making my way to the window that looks down to the street.
Barely finding anyone on the walk home, I didn’t expect to see a form standing beside a tree on the opposite side of the building.
The person was just standing there. No dog.
Not smoking. Were they… looking up at me?
I gasp, closing the curtain in response.
I rub my eyes, trying to make sense of what I just saw.
Okay, this is how the girl dies in these kinds of movies.
Should I take a look to see if the shadowy figure is still there?
Nope. Not going to help this plot move forward.
I argue with myself that I have an overactive imagination and need to eat something, because my brain is obviously starved of logic.
I force myself to walk away from the drawn shade.
Pull off my boots and tights, ahead of reheating the broccoli and cheese soup in the microwave.
While the hum of the microwave promises me nourishment, I queue up The Sopranos DVD to distract myself from the present.
I select the episode that I last watched but fell asleep to, then tuck my phone beside me just in case Andrea needs to get ahold of me.
Pressing play, the episode begins, and I dig into my hot meal.
A delighted Johnny Sack has been given permission to temporarily leave prison to attend his daughter Allegra’s wedding.
Two distinct families are merging, promising drama filled moments to occupy my tireless mind.
The phone vibrates against my leg, as I attempt to put a much too hot spoonful of cheese into my mouth.
Carefully, I place down the bowl expecting to see a message from Andrea, but to my surprise, it’s not her.
It’s a message from an ‘unknown’ number.
Could this be the guy from the bar? I open the message.
Unknown: As much as I like The Sopranos, we’ve seen this episode before.
Instantly, I stand and the phone slips from my hand before knocking the spoon out of the bowl in front of me. It flips hot cheesy lava onto my bare skin.
“Owww, shit fuck!” I hobble to the kitchen, submerge a hand towel beneath cold tap water, and press the cooling cloth to my skin. After a few blissful moments of relief, I check to see that my thigh is super red but not terribly burnt.