Chapter 7
CHARLIE
“This place has the best frozen margaritas!” Ana declares as soon as we enter the bar for the after-work drinks I promised on Monday. It may be open-air, but the music is loud and the growing crowd of Friday-night revelers are fighting for dominance.
The bar sits on a tiny shell-laden beach on the bay.
Ana assures me that the best thing about Florida is that you can go to an outdoor bar year-round.
My poor frizzed hair begs to differ. The theme here is very beachy, with thatched roofing over the bar and mixed drinks available in plastic coconuts.
“You’ve got to try one!”
I nod my head as she leads us forwards. Because I hadn’t thought through the whole ordering drinks part of the evening.
Training always came first in college and that meant no drinking for me.
And then my immune system decided to attack my muscles and that settled it – no alcohol ever.
I promised her I’d get the first round and I’m happy to have a friend to go out with.
Finishing out my first full week in a new city, at a new job, is cause for celebration. Maybe one little drink can’t hurt.
Ana pushes into the throng of people pressed up to the bar for their orders.
I pull my oversized purse closer to my body.
Not that I’m afraid anyone will try to run off with it; it is far too packed in for anyone to make an escape.
I’m more nervous about it knocking into someone and inadvertently starting a bar fight.
We get to the front and Ana waves down the bartender. The tall, tan, skinny woman behind the bar with wild fuchsia curls and a sleeve of tattoos on her right arm gives us a nod.
“Good, my ex is serving tonight,” Ana mentions as we wait our turn to order.
“Is she going to give you a healthy pour or a weak one?” I ask, trying to gauge if this is a friendly ex or not.
“Oh, she’s going to be jealous that I’m here with you.” Ana pauses mid-thought. “You’re awesome, honey, but not my type,” she says before continuing her original explanation. “She’s going to pour well and even offer one on the house. You may not have to pay for any of my drinks tonight.”
“Win!” I say, raising my hand for a high five.
Ana claps my hand. “Double win. I talked Trey into switching the room assignments, so you’ll be bunking with me on site in Kalispell.” This is welcome news. We’ll be flying out for the marathon weekend in northern Montana on Thursday.
“Thank God. I was terrified I might have had to share with Celine,” I say. I could only imagine the judgment she would pass on my night guard and flannel pajamas. I stop myself from complaining further. If Ana and Celine are buddies, then I might have just stepped in it.
“Ha! I would not subject you to that in your first month on the job,” Ana retorts before scanning the bar for her ex again. She is working her way toward us, mixing drinks as fast as she can.
“What is Celine’s deal anyways?” I ask, trying to get a better understanding of why she was so unwelcoming.
“You mean she wasn’t on her model behavior?” Ana asks sarcastically.
“She was a supermodel?” I gasp.
“Super, maybe or maybe not. But yeah, she used to model professionally,” Ana responds. “The reason I don’t like her has nothing to do with her good looks. It’s not her fault she’s gorgeous or that she had a job that played to her strengths.”
I nod in agreement. I wouldn’t want my appearance used against me, not that anyone is lining up to do that any time soon. “So why don’t you like her then?” I catch on Ana’s phrasing.
“We’re women in a male-dominated industry in a male-dominated office. She should be lifting up other women, others around her. But no,” Ana begins.
It’s a dynamic I didn’t even realize I was used to. Growing up in sports meant mostly being around guys. Teammates, coaches, trainers, athletic directors. There have been shifts and better representation, but it isn’t even close to parity.
“Everyone at FIRE is competitive, and if you had yet to notice, running, cycling, triathlon, and swimming are all individual sports, if you catch me.”
I mull over her analogy. “So Celine buys into the macho alpha-male bullshit?” My mind flashes on Declan and his less than warm reception and continued antagonism. Like going to Oliver to complain about me for . . . asking questions?
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Ana says, leaning against the bar. “She benefits from it, so why change it?”
I think back on Oliver’s request to keep an ear out for anyone passing company info to our competitors. If Celine is really cut-throat and competitive in business, she may be tempted to sell company secrets. I file this information away.
“Can we please talk about the superwoman transformation from workplace Charlie to Friday-night Charlie?” Ana changes the subject, eyeing my outfit.
The dress code at FIRE allows for casual Fridays.
I paired my best jeans with a blouse today but chucked it into the back seat of my car after work and changed from heels into sandals.
The camisole I wore under my blouse is light and low-cut, ideal for a hot open-air bar.
“What? It’s a beach bar. I’m dressed for the beach,” I explain.
“And I usually wear contacts, but the pollen count in this state is off the charts. Figured wearing my frames at work would give my eyes a break, but I wanted to look cute tonight, so I popped in my backup contacts before we left.” I pat my oversized purse as I say this.
I’ve learned the hard way to always be prepared with backup contacts, solution, a case, and glasses.
You never know. Ana accepts this explanation without commenting on how I live my life around my allergies, around what my body demands. Maybe it isn’t that uncommon after all.
Ana peers down the bar again and waves to the woman she identified as her ex.
The woman gives a reluctant smile and Ana turns round to me.
“I know that smirk. Lucy will be over in a moment. I apologize in advance for her being a smidge territorial.” Ana adjusts her outfit, checking the buttons on her blouse and smoothing out her hair.
We are indeed the same height and size, but Ana is still rocking her work heels and a few inches taller because of it.
I’m about to ask more about this situationship Ana is in when someone taps my shoulder. In the short time we’ve been next to the bar, I’ve been bumped a few times, but I can tell this is different.
I turn and find myself face-to-face with a wall of muscle in a tight black T-shirt. I look up and find a pair of sea-green eyes watching me. “I don’t mean to startle you, but there is an enormous bug on your shoulder.”
It takes me a moment to register what this handsome man has said. Did he ask me to run away with him? Did he tell me that he just stepped off Mount Olympus?
“What?” I follow where he is pointing to with his finger, craning my neck to see A HUGE FUCKING BUG ON MY SHOULDER!
It has wings and big eyes and it could possibly devour me. Slowly, but it could.
I am about to scream when he reaches forwards and picks the demonic being off my body. I hadn’t even sensed it there. “They’re harmless but terrifying,” he says as the bug flies up and away to go bother someone else in the bar. I’m officially against open-air bars now.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I say to my rescuer.
The bar smells like a mix of every perfume and cologne covering a musk of sweat and spilled liquor.
Right next to me, he smells familiar, though.
Something woodsy I can’t quite place, incongruous with the other scents.
Not being able to identify it piques my interest.
“No worries. I didn’t want you to freak out if I took him off without telling you.
I didn’t want to be that guy who just walks up and starts touching a beautiful woman.
” The man before me blushes and it accentuates his smile perfectly.
His cleft chin is adorable. His light blond hair is cropped short and I am momentarily tempted to run my hands through it.
“I mean, you were being chivalrous, so . . .” I trail off, suddenly forgetting how to put words together.
Ana reaches round me and extends a hand to my mystery helper. “Hi, I’m Ana. Charlie is going to help me out for a quick sec, so I need you to stop flirting with her until after the bartender takes our order.”
“I’m Blaed,” he says, and shakes Ana’s hand. Which is silly. I must have misheard him over the noise.
“Blade? Like Wesley Snipes’s vampire Blade?” Ana heard the same thing I did.
I shake my head in disbelief. “I bet no one ever tried to steal your lunch money as a kid,” I breathe, and then check that I’m not literally drooling over this man. Figuratively, I’m drool city. I need one of those dentist suction straws. But I don’t want to actually salivate; it’s not a good look.
“B-L-A-E-D. It’s a family name. And, technically, Blade is a human-vampire hybrid,” he responds.
“Charlie?” He turns his attention to me and offers me a hand.
His grip is strong and warm. He has to be at least 6’ 3”, has the build of a pro-wrestler with his thick bulky muscles, and his mesmerizing eyes are locked on mine.
Thick eyelashes frame his eyes, keeping my attention, forcing me not to look away.
“Hi,” is all I can manage to say, because I have no charisma.
“Can I get you ladies something to drink?” Blaed asks as Ana’s ex walks up to take our orders.
Blaed asks for a beer, Ana orders a margarita, and I know I have to say something.
I was hoping to discreetly order a mocktail, but now I’m super insecure about it.
It’s for my health, but I’ve been healthy for years.
A low-inflammation diet doesn’t necessarily mean no inflammation ever.
Stressing over it is probably going to cause more trouble for me than one teeny little drink.
“Bourbon and Coke,” I utter, borrowing my dad’s go-to order, because nothing else came to mind except Shirley Temple.
Blaed turns to talk to the guy next to him and Ana pulls me closer. “He is delicious,” she whispers in my ear.
I blush because I was thinking the same exact thing. “Did we ruin your plans with your ex?” I ask.
“Nah,” Ana says as she glances back at the woman mixing our drinks. “She probably feels pity now that I’m the third wheel. I can work with pity.”
Ana’s ex slides our drinks over. I take one hesitant sip and let the sweet and sharp taste wash over my tongue. I’m going to have to limit myself; my liver is not going to know what hit it.
I think of something that will work for me and Ana. “Well, I never play easy to get, so how about we stick to our plan to have fun and leave together to keep both of them guessing and hungry for more.”
Ana gasps. “You’re a genius! Nice and nerdy but a little calculated.” She holds up her glass for a cheers.
I take another sip and remind myself to go slow. And research rheumatologists on my new health insurance. If I’m going to start pushing my limits, I’m going to need a doctor I can call if I push too far.
Blaed leans over and grabs his beer and his hand grazes my shoulder as he does this. I beam at him and we clink glasses as well.
One week down at a new job, a solid lead on a new friend, and a cute guy flirted with me, not so bad after all.