I nod, irritated. “Did you hook-up with her?”
His eyes widen, surprised. “Maybe. Since when do you care?”
His question is like a stab to the heart. Since forever…? I thought we told each other everything? How much have you left unsaid?
“I don’t,” I recover quickly. “I just can’t picture you with a girl like that.”
Tyson stops walking abruptly, and looks me straight in the eye. “Hold up, what’s wrong with Ashleigh?”
My cheeks instantly begin burning up. I’m starting to think I don’t know Tyson as well as I thought I did.
“Nothing.” I decide to drop it. I’m already irritated beyond belief and just want to go home.
“No.” He throws an arm in front of me to stop me from walking away. “Are you jealous?”
Jealous? Why in the world would I ever be jealous? I shake my head. “No.”
“Good, because I don’t want to have to remind you that we aren’t dating.” He motions between the two of us. “What I do or don’t do with my love life is completely my business.”
I feel a pang in my chest when he refers to his love life. “Fine,” I reply shortly, turning on my heel and heading back to the car. I can feel the tears stinging the edges of my eyes, but he won’t get the satisfaction of seeing me cry today.
* * *
Things have been strange with Tyson since a few days ago; the day at the courthouse. He was short with me, and I didn’t like it. Although it’s been difficult, I’ve abstained from calling or texting him. I feel like he owes me an apology, but I’m not quite sure he sees it that way.
I’ve been more cautious when coming and going, but for the most part, I am finally beginning to feel an ounce of normal. I don’t have panic attacks when I’m outside anymore. It feels amazing to feel regular. I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling myself a few interviews for jobs. My parents are ecstatic. Even Mikey is smiling more. I think they are excited about the possibility of getting me out of their hair once and for all.
I have an interview today for a receptionist position at a local hair salon. It’s nothing huge or fancy, but I have butterflies just thinking about it. I hope I will make a good impression. I hope I will fit in.
After dressing in a nice long-sleeve blouse and black pants, I make my way to the salon, a few miles down the road. There are about eight stations along with a nail salon as well. It’s a higher end beauty salon, and it reeks of sophistication.
An older lady in her late fifties approaches me. She has honey blond hair and blue eyes. She lets her eyes trail up and down my body. “Let me guess, Bryce?”
I nod, smiling. “You got me.”
She smiles lazily. “Well, come on down, I’ll get Janet.”
I follow her down through the rows of stations, eyes falling on me from both sides of the room. She opens a door in the back and it leads to a small office. There is a woman, short dark hair and brown eyes, probably in her mid-thirties, mulling over a heap of paperwork.
“Hi, you must be Bryce,” she greets me warmly before we are left alone and the door is closed behind me. “Go ahead, take a seat.”
“Thank you,” I reply, following her instructions.
She is wearing glasses that are positioned on the bridge of her nose, which she lifts off and sets down on the desk in front of her. “Do you have your resume?”
I nod, reaching into my purse to pull out a creased copy. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t want it to get wet.” It was sprinkling when I arrived, so to protect my resume, I ended up stuffing it in my purse.
She shakes her head yes before grabbing it out of my hand. “Oh yes, now I remember. So it looks like you worked at Forever 21, Olive Garden, Tan Republic, and went to school. Although, I don’t see anything listed here for the last year. What have you been up to?”
My chest tightens. It’s hard enough that I have to live with it, but having to explain it to someone else? It always worries me that they won’t be as understanding as my family has been.
“There was an accident, and I was healing for most of that time.”
She puts my resume down, squinting her eyes at me. “Oh my, well I hope everything is better now.”
My heart begins thudding against my chest.
I swallow loudly, nodding.
She breathes deeply. “Well, what makes you want to work here?”
I smile gently. “I like customer service. I enjoy putting a smile on people’s faces.”
We talk for another twenty minutes, and after she drills me, she takes me on a tour of the building.
“Look,” she says as I stand by the entrance at the end of the tour. “I don’t normally do this, but I have a gut feeling about you. I’d like to offer you the job.”
I gasp, surprised. “Seriously?”
She smiles, her eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I think you’ll fit in just great here.”
I can’t help returning her wide smile. “Thank you so much. Can I ask you about wardrobe?”
She looks at what I am wearing. “This is perfect.”
I blow out a sigh of relief. “Great.”
“Why don’t you come back here on Monday at 9:00 a.m. and we’ll get you training?”
I giggle. “I’ll be here.”
I walk out of the salon feeling high on life. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.
I can’t wait to share the good news with my family and Tyson. I hope he’s gotten over being a douche, because I know he’ll be excited for me.
After climbing into my car, I hit my speed dial, anxiety pouring out of me.
A few rings in, a high-pitched female voice answers. “Tyson’s phone.”
My heart goes into overdrive. It’s not familiar to me, but if I could take a guess, I’d say it’s Ashleigh the bimbo. I gulp before responding, making sure to check myself. “Um, is Tyson there?”
“Who’s calling?” she asks in a rather annoyed fashion.
“Bryce.”
I can almost feel her rolling her eyes from the other side of the phone. “Tyson, Bryce is on the phone.” She sounds muffled as she relays the message. No more than a few seconds later, I hear Tyson’s familiar voice.
“Hey, what’s up?” He doesn’t sound as welcoming as normal, and I know it probably has to do with how we left things.
“Hey,” I say, unsure of how to proceed. “I haven’t heard from you in a few days, and I just wanted to see if you might want to hang out?”
He sighs. “Tonight isn’t a good night, Bryce. Is everything okay with you?” Although he turns down my offer, he still cares enough to ask how I’m doing, which I appreciate.
“Oh, okay…I guess I’ll just talk to you later then,” I reply, dejected.
“Bryce,” he says, without an immediate follow-up.
“I get it,” I say. “You have company. Don’t let me interrupt you.” I don’t wait to hear his response before hanging up. I was so excited to tell him about my new job…but the bimbo who answered his phone ruined it for me.
There is a sharp pain in my chest, and I breathe in deeply, attempting to keep the tears at bay. It’s times like this where having more than one friend would really come in handy. I think about heading straight home, but that would just be cowardly. I wanted to celebrate my new position with Tyson, but that obviously isn’t going to happen. That doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate it on my own. I start my car and begin making my way downtown.
* * *
“What can I get you, darlin’?” The bartender at Side Bar asks. He has a rockabilly look with semi-long slicked back light brown hair, sleeves of tattoos, and the most impressive mustache. It’s one that is twirled on the ends, and I’m sure he takes wax to on a daily basis. He wears a kind expression and has a gentle demeanor that instantly puts me at ease.
“Can I have a Seven and Seven?” I ask.
He nods and pushes off the bar, beginning to make my drink almost immediately. My eyes scan the room, which is decently filled with other patr
ons. It’s a Thursday night, and I’m surprised to see that I’m not the only one who had the idea to come here. There is a group of ten or so people occupying two tables, which they have pushed together and they are loud and rambunctious. It looks to be a bridal party of some sort as one of the females is wearing a white veil on the top of her head. There is an older couple in their mid-to-late forties beside them huddled up in a booth in the corner. Everyone seems to be here with someone, but me. I’ve never been much of a drinker, much less someone to drink alone, but I’m taking advantage of my new found freedom.
I see the bartender slide the drink across the bar, which lands directly in front of me. I break my gaze from people-watching and shift my eyes to his. “Would you like to pay or open a tab?”
I think about it for a second before responding, “Why don’t you open me a tab?”
He nods smiling back at me. “Waiting on someone?”
My cheeks grow hotter. “Nope, just me.”
He gives me the once over, nodding slowly. “Alright then.” He spins around headed straight for the cash register. I have no idea if he is judging me or not, but I shouldn’t be embarrassed. This is the most fearless thing I’ve done in a very long time. If anything, tonight should be all about celebrating.
I sip on my drink and twirl back around. I used to love people watching; imagining who certain strangers were and what their lives were like. My eyes land back onto the bridal party and I find myself living vicariously through their boisterous laughter.
The bride-to-be locks eyes with me and her lips curl up into a welcoming smile. I return her smile along with her wave. She excuses herself from her rambunctious group and makes her way right to me. My heart begins thudding in my chest. I’m still not very good with speaking to new people.
“Hey,” I hear her high-pitched voice beside me, and then watch her take a seat out of the corner of my eye.
I shift my body toward hers and then meet her gaze. “Hi.”
The bartender appears in front of us, placing a napkin in front of my new acquaintance. “What can I get ya, darlin’?”
She glances at my near empty glass. “I’ll have whatever she’s having, and get her another one while you’re at it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to…” I hold up my hands in surrender, taken by surprise from her friendly gesture.
“Don’t be silly.” The beautiful stranger waves her hand in front of my face. Her eye color leaves me speechless…a mixture between sea green and aqua. Her long blonde curls frame her face perfectly and her pink lips are big and plump. “I’m Phoebe.” She extends out her hand for me to shake.
“Bryce,” I reply, gripping her hand firmly.
“I’m marrying my best friend this weekend,” Phoebe says, leaning back in her chair.
“You don’t seem overly excited about that.” In fact, I could have sworn I heard dread in her voice.
“Don’t get me wrong.” She sighs. “I love him. I really do, but I’m losing my independence.”
I giggle wishing that I had her problems. My life would be a hell of a lot easier. “What gave you that idea?”
The bartender places our drinks in front of us and Phoebe grabs hers, taking a long swig. “I am going to have to consider another person’s feelings for the rest of my life. Doesn’t that sound dreadful to you?”
I laugh, finishing off my first drink and transferring my straw to the new one. “That sounds like love to me.”
Phoebe chuckles, catching the bartender’s attention and ordering another drink.
Three drinks in and my cheeks are growing hotter by the minute, my bladder feels like it might explode, and I have somehow managed to find myself smack dab in the middle of the Bachelorette party. When I enter the bathroom, I see the bride-to-be sprawled out on the floor, a tiara on her head, laughing uncontrollably. “Phoebe,” I say, reaching out for her shoulder.
She whips her head up to look at me. “Girl!” she wails loudly, reaching her arms up to me, her head flopping back and forth. I grab her hands and pull her up. “I am so happy I met you. Like, I have never felt as close to someone as quickly as I have you.” She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a tight hug. I’m feeling slightly buzzed and a bit nauseous, but like I have a lot of love to give. “I think we need to go back out there and convince them that we met years ago and that we are long, lost friends.”
I nod, giggling. “I’m down with that plan, but I need another drink first!”
Phoebe’s sea-green eyes drop to my hands. “We need to take care of that, pronto! Just follow me, girl. I’m the bride-to-be, I’m like royalty tonight.”
It’s been so long since I’ve felt carefree like this. I don’t want the feeling to end.
* * *
The loud music and disco lights are causing me to break out into uncontrollable fits of laughter. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in an establishment as classy as this one. I’m trying to remember whose idea this was…but it doesn’t even matter. I’m so drunk, I’d agree to the stupidest of plans.
There are three stages with strategically placed stripper poles and people crowded around them. I’ve lost track of how much I’ve drank, but the drunk-munchies are taking over me. All I can think of is food. I order a platter and eat almost the entire thing myself.
I can’t remember how I got here, but after I finish eating, all I want to do is go home. I’m tired, and the food isn’t settling so well inside my stomach. I pull out my cell phone, scrolling down my contact list. “Better not be a douche,” I mutter to myself as I press dial on Tyson’s number.
After three rings, and when I’ve almost given up, he picks up. “Hello?” he answers.
“Tyson, thank God you answered!” I say dramatically, speaking with my hands even though he can’t see me.
“Bryce, it’s late, is everything alright?” he asks frantically.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine, but listen, can you come pick me up?”
“Why are you whispering?” he replies.
My eyes dart around the strip club I’m at. I’m not sure why. No one is standing near me from the Bachelorette party.
“I don’t know. Can you give me a lift or not?” I snap.
There is a long silent pause and I’m positive I’ve offended him, when he finally answers. “Where are you, Bryce?”
My eyes narrow as I lower my voice. “I’m at Cheetah’s.”
“You’re where?” his voice raises an octave as he questions me.
“You heard me. I’ll explain later.”
It’s not more than twenty minutes later when Tyson pulls up to the front of the dingy strip club. I walk out the door and past the bouncers. “Have a good night,” the bigger one addresses me.
“You too,” I call out in response and then hop into Tyson’s Bug.
As I buckle up, Tyson keeps his eyes trained on me.
“What?” I ask, irritated.
“Seriously?” he chuckles as we drive off.
I don’t feel like talking about it with him at all now. We drive in silence for the first ten minutes before it becomes excruciatingly uncomfortable.