Chapter 22
NEW AND OLD FRIENDS
Old feelings of bubbly girlhood rush back with the way Lollie is dolling me up, reminiscent of being back home.
Ashton is pacing by the door, already ready to go.
Why are some men always in such a hurry?
It’s as if they think time will explode if their needs aren’t met within the instant of them developing.
I watch Ashton pace back and forth and Lollie, slowly pinning up my hair as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. A sentiment we share for the time being until I realize she is doing this on purpose, making him anxiously wait for us out of spite.
The games between these two are next level since their arrival here. It’s always been tense between them, but never like this. I decide to take matters into my own hands.
“Alright, I think I look good enough, Lol,” I say with a start and sit up from the small wood vanity, brushing the wrinkles out of my dark green mini dress.
Some of the long bangs that Lollie just pinned back in a half-do messily fall back around my face. I don’t miss Lollie tipping her eyes to the ceiling and then looking at Ashton. He sends an equally annoyed grin her way.
These two know the best way possible to get under each other’s skin. If I didn’t know how much they fluster each other, I would think they were secretly getting together behind closed doors. I cannot imagine that happening, with their history.
With a nudge in the right direction, I manage to keep them from killing each other and get them out the door.
The bar is a vibe. Its atmosphere pulses with music and sweat and something that feels like enchantment. The air flows freely, full of trumpets and sax blaring a bluesy song, along with its patrons swaying to the sensual tune.
Lollie and I don’t miss a beat and head straight to the bar. The giggles still have the best of us, and we take a few shots before making our way to the table Ashton saved for us. This is the bar we said we would meet Cher in, but I have yet to spot her amongst the crowd.
Lollie has to all but scream at me on top of the music.
It’s so different from our bars back in Detroit.
No underlying melancholy hidden within hazy plumes of cigarette smoke.
No, this place feels like a million shooting stars landed in this room and radiated their magic into every musician, bartender, and occupant.
Alive is how I feel, and also right at home.
I watch as Lollie slides a drink to Ashton, and he takes it.
The man who never drinks. Good. It’ll be nice to see him let loose a bit.
Although, knowing him, it’ll be one drink and back to playing bodyguard, but I’m grateful for his strait-laced way.
And Lollie. Bringing me a calm comfort in this tumultuous sea of new.
We are about one drink in when I notice a shift in the air, and I catch sight of Que at the bar. It’s hard not to miss him, so I wonder how long he has been there. He has a drink in his hand and must feel my studying eyes. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine.
Before, in the basement, there was vulnerability there. That’s not what lies within them now. He is calculating in the way he looks at me. He winks, and from where I sit in the pink velvet booth, I swear I see his iris catch moonlight like a mirror.
Cher walks up beside him and finds where his glance lingers. Immediately she smiles and makes her way to our table.
“There you are! I hope you weren’t waiting long. Que was a pain to drag out here.” She says as she shimmies her way in to sit beside me.
I look to Que, who is now back to gazing into his drink at the bar, and I wonder how they are even friends. So completely opposite. But then, I guess so are Lollie and I. What is that saying they say about opposites?
Speaking of Lollie, her face is cool and collected, which may look fine to an outsider, but I know her. I can tell she is not thrilled with the fact that Cher actually showed up on the night out she invited us to.
“Oh, not a problem! We’ve just been enjoying this bar. It's so…” I say trying to describe it.
“It’s a lot, I know. It’s one of the lesser-known old-time bars.
Faces around here can get too familiar for Que and me.
I bet your friend, tall, dark and handsome, would say the same.
He’s lived here about as long as Que, but they stay on separate paths.
Just as you rarely see a hawk frolicking with crows,” Cher says cryptically, but it’s a comment that resonates.
It’s the first time I have really thought about Ry since Ashton and Lollie showed up. It sends a swirl to my stomach, which surprises me. I have been doing a good job of keeping him off my mind since our argument. As far as I can tell, he has done the same with me.
“Yeah, what’s the deal with those two? Do they know each other?” I ask Cher, and Lollie scoots closer to me. I then realize my slip of bringing up Ry with Lollie here, but it’s too late to take it back now. Lollie sends me a concerned look, feeling more and more kept in the dark.
“They do. Once upon a time, they had been close friends. But, as it does with most friends turned to enemies, love came between them. Love and other emotions of sorts. Now, it seems they are rooted here, so to speak,” Cher says in a way that leaves a lot to the imagination.
“She was a pretty one, though. Fun, too. Actually, she reminds me a lot of you...” she says with a twist. Her words send a troublesome chill down my spine.
She glances toward my two friends with a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. Lollie is not impressed, her icy stare boring into Cher. When Lollie notices me watching, she darts her eyes away.
“OK, who are we talking about?” Lollie asks, now acting confused, looking between me and Cher. “I am definitely missing parts of this story. Did you meet someone else, Jade, that I haven’t been told about?” Lollie’s hurt expression makes the guilt of holding information creep up on me.
“Uh, kind of. Just the man who came up to tell me about this place. Ry. The one I told you about, who had helped me clean up the property. I haven’t seen him for months now,” I lie.
It hurts to do so, and I don’t even know why I do, because Lollie can tell. She looks at Ashton passing each other a worried glance, her lips forming a grimaced and strained expression.
“Well, thanks for keeping me and Ash in the loop,” she utters. I can tell I’ve put her in a sour mood.
“Oh, Lol…” I say, but she just shrugs.
“Oh shoot, did I bring up something I shouldn’t have?” Cher says and looks at Lollie. Cher sounds innocent enough, but I can see Lollie’s jaw tighten. “Don’t worry, Ry usually stays in his own little realm most days. You two probably won’t even meet him.” Cher adds as a final touch.
“It’s fine, just…I don’t know. Let’s drink.” Lollie says in her shut it down way when she is around people she is not completely comfortable talking to.
So, we do just that, even if it means we will have to address the topic later. We drink. We dance. I steal glances at Que, and he has stolen more than a few at me.
Thoughts of Ry bubble up. A guilty nagging sensation in my gut I can’t ignore. I gave him the cold shoulder, but something internally tells me I should give in to his ways. I can’t get him out of my head now.
Something felt so concrete when he was near. A tether to our souls that I could hold on to. I don’t feel that with Que, but he is quite pleasant to look at.
It isn’t long before Que finds his way closer. Easing his way behind me on the dance floor, but the intimacy feels wrong. I let him put his hands on my waist. There is no harm in dancing, but I want to see his face.
I spin around and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m reminded of one of my dreams, then. One where I am dancing with this very man. I know it. The smell of moonflowers surrounds us. The same smell as outside the Detroit dive bar, months back.
“Have I met you before?” I ask, feeling sure now.
“It’s possible,” Que says. “But it was way before you even knew.” He pulls me closer, aware of where my body touches his. Oh, maybe this doesn’t feel so wrong after all.
“What do you mean by that?” I’m curious now, Que having a way of engaging my mind in a way Ry does not.
“I’ve tried telling you this story before, but it didn’t go so well. I don’t think it’s mine to reveal, little gem.” For the faintest second, I think I know what he is talking about, but blank memories cloud it.
“I’m afraid I’ve only ever met you in my dreams, and even then, at a distance,” is all I can think to say back. But it’s the truth. I have seen him. Detroit. In my sleep. All imagined, I convince myself.
He darkens then, as if remembering the saddest story.
“It’s a shame you weren’t created for me. We could have been something real.” His voice is low and aching. He kisses my head and leaves me there. Still and surprised, surrounded by dancing locals.
I walk away with my head down, hoping Lollie didn’t see any of our interaction.
The dance floor, with an array of geometric designs below my feet, makes my head slightly dizzy.
Music is blaring in my ears, washing away a memory that begs to be revealed.
None of the songs are familiar, but they seem to know me—and I let them.
I find our table and realize Lollie and Ashton are gone. A moment to observe that I find enduring. I’ve always been a people watcher, even as a child. My mother scolded the younger me for staring more times than I can count.
I felt a searching within me, looking for someone. That same feeling would cross me when I looked out at the estate and focused my eyes on the hickory tree. But there are no trees here, only drunken dancing and hearty sax.
I catch Cher talking with Que by the bar stool he reclaimed after leaving me stranded. They look to be arguing about something, but when she spots me watching, her entire demeanor changes. My staring was never one to go unnoticed.
She smiles and comes to sit down with me.