Twist--A Dive Bar Novel Page 7

  “Good, good. Yours?”

  “Great. Fine.”

  He nodded. “You’re looking a lot better.”

  “Yeah. I’m feeling better.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hmm.”

  An-n-n-d we were both apparently out of small talk. Neither of us rushed to fill the silence, either. Joe’s hair was damp and slicked back, his jeans and sweater were clean, nice-looking. Obviously, the man had stopped off at home, showered and changed before coming here. He’d gone for comfort, same as me. Nice that we’d both made an effort.

  He cleared his throat. “In all honesty, I half expected to find you gone.”

  “In all honesty, I half expected to be gone.” I huffed out a laugh.

  Yeah. Not awkward at all.

  We both just kind of looked at each other. Looked away. More silence. I opened my mouth then shut it, my mind a vast empty wasteland.

  “Right,” he said, like something had been decided. The mattress moved as he sat down beside me at the end of the bed. One big brown boot drummed restlessly against the carpet. “What now? Have you gone back to wanting nothing to do with me? Should I leave the key and get out? Do you hate me again? Have you already booked a flight home? Lay it on me. What happens next?”

  “What? Right now?”

  “No, a week from now,” he deadpanned, boot still going like a freaking automaton. Thump, thump, thump. “Yes, now, Alex. Talk to me. Please.”

  “Okay, okay.” Only partly ignoring the sarcasm, I sucked in a deep breath. God, the pressure. So many words. It was completely unexpected. The last few days he hadn’t been nearly as chatty. Or pushy. “Umm. No, I don’t hate you and I don’t mind you being here. You probably don’t need the key anymore, though. Just leave it on the table or whatever. Ah, yes, I booked a flight home for late tomorrow. And I don’t know about right now.”

  “You booked your flight?”

  “Yes.”

  The man nodded then scratched at his beardy chin.

  “Did I cover everything?” My heart was racing, my head spinning in circles. “I’m not sure there’s a set etiquette for this situation. You lied to me about who you were on the Internet, but you also nursed me through a gross dose of the flu. To a certain extent they balance each other out. But not completely.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the past few days. You’ve been amazing, being there for me and everything,” I said. “I get that it could be confusing because there’s been this certain intimacy established. I mean, hell, you’ve even seen me in my underwear.”

  “Not sure that counts since you were sick at the time.” He frowned. “And you saw me in a towel.”

  “Yes, I did.” And oh God, the memory. Such clarity and detail. I could almost give you a map regarding the muscles of his thighs, the strength in his calves, and the impressive bulge under that fucking towel. The number of little golden hairs on his bare, naked toes even. You’d think I had a photographic memory. My mind hadn’t forgotten a thing when it came to Joe Collins hot, wet, and mostly naked.

  What a stupid subject to have raised. Intimacy. Underwear. All of these words were bad. This was what happened when my mouth started moving. The most unwise shit came out. Thank God I had on a T-shirt bra with a little padding. Any hardening of nipples remained mostly unnoticeable. However, the warmth in my face might be an issue. Wonder if I could pass it off as another fever?

  Sitting preternaturally still, Joe was watching me like his life depended on it. God. The scrutiny made me sweat.

  “Anyhoo, moving on.” I scrambled across the bed for a Kleenex, taking my time blowing my nose. “This is who I normally am. Jeans and a T-shirt. Valerie did the hair and makeup the other night. That’s her job, she’s a makeup artist. And my sexy dress and heels were a total ruse.”

  He said nothing. At least the Thumper foot had stopped beating.

  “Disappointing, huh?”

  “No.”

  I waited. He said no more. Awesome. He was back to using words sparingly. I was doomed.

  The sunset had wound down to indigo and gray. A little lavender, maybe. High up above it all, a star twinkled.

  Out of nowhere, he said, “I’m really glad you’re still here. Even if it is for only one more night.”

  It took a moment for me to manage a smile. “Thanks. I mean, in all honesty, this situation, us emailing all the time, it was never going anywhere. We both have family and friends, established lives in different states. Long-distance relationships don’t work even if we were into each other in that way. Which we’re not. But … why would you even bother?”

  “That part of the reason you were interested in Eric in the first place?” he asked.

  A question far too canny for my comfort. I was Bambi frozen in headlights. Just waiting for the semi-trailer to mow my fluffy ass on down.

  “Alex?” he asked. “Is it? He was a safe person to be interested in, right? He might come to town but he’d leave again too. Didn’t require you moving far out of your comfort zone.”

  “True.” Wow, the man really had me figured. Though I guess I had given him all of the ammunition.

  A nod from him.

  Christ, I should never have gotten caught up in Val’s excitement and come to Coeur d’Alene. It would have been kinder to both Joe and me. Then I would have had his emails for a little longer. The thrill of receiving them. The sense of hope at finding a kindred spirit, of not being quite so alone.

  Hold up. I liked alone. Alone was easy and exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it? Shit. There were no easy answers in my head anymore. No certainty at all.

  Soon as I got back to Seattle I was resetting my dating profile to local matches only. Who knows, maybe I’d stop messing around and actually attempt a real relationship instead of just bumping hips with someone now and then. Stranger things had happened. Perhaps I could change after all.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I went for a walk earlier. There were a few places down the road that looked nice.”

  “I’ve got somewhere in mind. Put your shoes and coat on, please, Little Miss Fucking Sunshine.” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “On it.” I fell upon my boots, shoving in my feet at lightning speed. What Valerie would have paid to see me actually rushing to get outside. My mild agoraphobia thingy was on hold. And to think it had only taken a small dose of the black plague and a couple of days trapped in a soulless hotel room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Message sent three months ago:

  Hi Eric,

  You’ll be pleased to know I left my apartment today. It was my dad’s birthday. Ever since I was little, mom, dad, and I always go down to Pike Place to see the guys at the fish market do their thing throwing the fish around. It’s pretty cool to see. We go buy salmon to cook for dad. It’s the family tradition. My friend Valerie and her partner also came. It was busy as always at the market, but a lot of fun. My folks even managed to play nice with each other.

  Valerie is a stylist and make-up artist. We pretty much grew up together so she’s basically family too. Neither of us were exactly part of the cool kid crowd at school. She’s a trans woman and had it rough for a long time, way worse than me getting my ponytail pulled and crap like that. Kids can be incredibly horrible to each other. But then I guess grown-ups can be too. All of the shit going on in politics at the moment makes me despair.

  Ugh. Excuse my bad mood. I think I need to eat some ice cream or something. Anyway, work is busy. Lots of interesting projects. How are things going with you? What have you been up to this week?

  A x

  Message received three months ago:

  What’s your poison? I’m a mint choc-chip man, myself.

  Message sent three months ago:

  Mint? No. NO. Mint is the devil’s work. I’m a chocolate chip cookie dough woman to the end.

&nbs
p; Message received three months ago:

  Haha. Of course you are. And I’m going to ignore you misunderstanding mint. It just means we’ll never have to share the ice cream. Probably for the best. Good to hear you had a nice time with your family and Valerie. Pike Place Markets are cool. I haven’t been there in ages.

  Spent a few days with an old school friend named Pat. I might have mentioned some good friends have been going through a divorce. Pat’s been having a rough time with it so we went camping. Built fires. Drank bourbon. Hugged trees and beat our manly chests. That sort of thing. It was good to get away for a bit.

  I’m sorry to hear you and Valerie had a tough time in school. Kids can be cruel. I was never exactly one of the cool kids either. Of course my brother was. He loved showing off about all his girlfriends and generally being a little shit. But I had my growth spurt early so no one else tended to mess with me.

  If anyone pulls on your ponytail who shouldn’t be, you let me know. I’ll come teach them some manners.

  Eric

  “Maybe I should head back to the hotel,” I said.

  Joe looked at me across the table, his face visibly pained. Poor guy. His agony was so acute the facial hair couldn’t even hide his expression, for once. I was hoping his eyes were glossy from wincing, not actual tears. Given the situation, however, it was kind of hard to tell. Nell had really gone all out in her championing of Joe and the belief that I should give him a second chance in the something more than friends stakes. In fact, she’d gone so far out, you could safely say she’d fallen off the edge.

  “I don’t blame you.” He sighed, leaning forward. Shadows danced across his face, as the candle between us flickered. “I’m really sorry about this, Alex.”

  “Not your fault. I know.”

  “I can’t believe this romantic bullshit. They’re out of fucking control.”

  “Nell and your friends are certainly something.”

  Determined or insane, it was kind of hard to tell which category his friends and fellow staff-members fell under. Sure as hell they were certainly convinced that Joe and I were in the throes of some sort of epic love affair. And, bless them, they were doing everything within their power to enhance that for us by going to town on the Dive Bar’s atmosphere. Though some of them seemed more on the side of Satan than love.

  I’m not going to lie. It was a painful experience.

  Joe slumped back in his chair, delivering dirty looks to the rest of the room’s occupants. Well, all except for a couple seated at the bar and a family of three across the way. If anything, the couple seemed mildly amused. Nice for them. The teenager, though, appeared to be acting out a series of slow deaths over at his table. At least, I hoped he was. It would be sad if the kid were actually trying to stab himself in the head with a fork.

  Suddenly, the lighting dimmed yet again. If it weren’t for the red candles scattered about the room, we’d be sitting completely in the dark.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Joe muttered. Not meeting my eyes.

  All of this supposed ardor, care of his friends, had squashed the easy-going flirting from last night, murdering it with hyper-awareness and embarrassment. Ironic, really; in attempting to help they’d killed our innocent little fledgling attraction. Knocked it right out of the nest.

  Over on the small stage in the corner, Vaughan, the dude singing and playing guitar wound up his delightful rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” to rousing applause. Eric, standing behind the bar, our friendly blond waitress, Lydia, and the kitchen staff seemed most ecstatic. Meanwhile, the teenager started making choking noises as he apparently tried to strangle himself over at his table. His parents should probably look at putting him into drama. The kid had talent.

  “Now I’d like to play an old favorite of mine for you,” announced Vaughan. Just like Joe, his skin was covered in ink. Not that I could make out what the tattoos were. “A little something by that great Canadian artist, Bryan Adams. ‘(Everything I Do) I Do It for You.’”

  More applause from the kitchen staff. A wolf whistle from Lydia. Vaughan just smiled and started playing again. He too had talent. If only he’d use his powers for good instead of evil.

  “I told them we were just friends,” repeated Joe about the hundredth time.

  “I know.”

  It seemed when it came to the Dive Bar, I was doomed to experience nothing but embarrassment and awkwardness. Death and dismemberment. Things like that. And the way Eric and everyone kept watching us only made it worse. My shoulders crept in, a weak wall between me and all of them.

  Not good.

  “The place looks great,” I said, determined to at least attempt salvaging the evening. And it really did. Exposed brickwork mixed with large beautiful old-fashioned windows. All of the tabletops were shining dark wood with metal legs and chairs to match. The Dive Bar was seriously cool despite the playing of bad old rock ballads, and worse.

  “Thanks.” Joe did a great hangdog face. Sad eyes. Cranky lines. He had it all.

  “I love that you left some of the old band and beer posters up.”

  “This place has been the Dive Bar for a long time,” he said, perking up a little. “Used to be owned by our friend’s dad. He was into live music and everything. Started the place in the late seventies, I think.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah. Andre Senior was a real local icon.” He tipped his chin in the general direction of the bar. “Used to encourage people to cut their initials into the bar. We just shined it up a little and sealed it over. The area behind the bar needed some major work, though.”

  Neat shelves full of liquor bottles covered the wall with a line of beer and cider taps below. All of it nicely lit by hidden down lights.

  “The old man went through a nasty velvet wallpaper and mirrored tile stage,” said Joe. “Took me ages to get all of that shit pulled down.”

  “Tell me the tiles were on the ceiling.”

  “All over it. And in the women’s bathroom. But not the men’s.”

  I shook my head. “Sounds very bordello chic.”

  “Sure, if you’re into early eighties porn.”

  “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.”

  “Exactly.” He grinned, the tension easing a little from his big shoulders.

  Weird, when he relaxed I did the same, opening up a little. Even sort of smiling back at him, shock-horror. If only he hadn’t lied. On the other hand, we’d have never met if he hadn’t. Because the man was right, I wouldn’t have picked him off the dating site. Blond, beardy, and big were not my thing. Or they never used to be. Guess I’d never hung around long enough for personality to become the biggest lure.

  “More wine?” asked Eric, appearing beside our table with a dewy bottle and a smooth smile. The man was just too handsome. However, at the moment, nothing inside me stirred at the sight of him. Neither my sex nor my emotions displayed any interest.

  “Will you please just get us the fucking beers we asked for?” said Joe through gritted teeth, a flash of savagery in his eyes.

  I bit back a smile.

  Ever so gently, the bartender kicked him in the shin. “Mind your language in front of your date, bro.”

  Joe rubbed a hand across his face.

  “Got to say, I’m a little surprised to see you still here, Alex,” said Eric, in a less than warm tone. God knows what his problem was.

  “Heading home tomorrow,” I said. “Flight booked and everything.”

  Eric nodded and inspected my mostly still full flute of bubbles. “You’re not drinking?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Champagne has never really been my thing.”

  Slowly, Eric shook his head. “You disappoint me. But okay. I’ll get the beers.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “I’ll help.” Joe pushed back his seat, giving me a grim, distinctly unhappy smile. “Back in a moment.”

  Another nod from me.

  Oh, lovely. The couple hanging over by the bar were dancing. How
sweet. Not so far away from them, Eric and Joe seemed to be having a heated conversation. It involved quite a bit of gesturing. First Joe pointed at the unlit lightbulbs dangling artfully from the ceiling, then at the bottle of champagne abandoned on top of the bar. Next Joe gave Vaughan still crooning away onstage a middle finger salute. It only made the guitarist grin. Eric just shrugged at his cranky bearded brother and pointed toward the kitchen.

  “Here we go.” Lydia slid our pizza onto the table with a flourish. “I’m Lydia, by the way. We didn’t really get to meet properly the night of Eric’s party.”

  “Alex. Hi.”

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Sure.” I picked up a napkin, twisting it into a knot. “Wow. The pizza’s in the shape of a heart. That’s really something…”

  Lydia bit at her lip. “Nell has really taken to the idea of you and Joe together. You might have noticed.”

  “A little.”

  “Want my advice?” She didn’t wait for my response. “Just roll with it. Smile. Nod. Then do what’s right for you. Nell’s great but she doesn’t know everything.”

  “I’ve only ever talked to her briefly on the phone. She was too busy to say hi when we came in.” I calmly continued throttling the napkin. “This is all a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

  “Try dating her brother.” Her chin pointed to the guitarist. “I had to stop her from organizing a surprise wedding for us last week.”

  “How could that be legal?”

  “It isn’t. Not even remotely.” Lydia gave the guitarist a longing look. “I love that man. But this music is godawful.” As if to prove her point, Vaughan launched into a rendition of Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”.

  “I feel like I’m stuck in a bad nineties prom.”

  She shook her head sadly. “Yeah. She bribed Vaughan with promises of huckleberry pie. He’s a total whore for it, unfortunately.”

  I had nothing.

  “He was only supposed to do a few love songs. Keep the music low-key and atmospheric,” said Lydia, with a scowl. “I have no idea why he’s chosen to perform every horrible, sappy song ever written.”