Excerpt from Everybody's Girl

Chapter 4:  We Meet Again

  I press the button on my answering machine. 'Any good offers tonight?' I think to myself. Placing the shoes against the wall, I smile thinking about the dress that goes with them. "That darn Jacey," I verbalize. I push the playback button when I realize I didn't hear any of the messages. Phillip, blowing some issues out of proportion again. He'll keep calling until he reaches me, though. Arrrgh! May as well call him now while I have an excuse not to talk long. I dial his number while checking Scratch's food bowl. "Phil, hi." Yeah, he has a problem. "Listen, I'm calling to let you know I got your messages. Join me tomorrow for lunch." I pause to check his response. "Bring the kids. They can play with Tyler while we talk." He accepts my invitation. "Noon sounds good. See you then." That was almost too easy.
  I head to the shower. I'm now in need of a martini more than ever. Out of the house in 30 minutes. On my way to the nightclub, I can't stop thinking about Jacey. I don't think I want to get seriously involved with him, so I'm seriously going to have to distance myself from him.
  When I get to Renaissance, I'm pleased to find a parking spot right across the street. I throw my shawl over my head, and step out of the car. Traffic halts as I trot to the other side. I wave in the direction of the horn blown, but don't look back to see if it's someone I know.
  "Dumond, my love, how's it going?" I give the bouncer a hug.
  He pushes my hair behind my left ear. "I'm fabulous. You're running late tonight."
  "I know. Got held up with some stuff earlier." There I go again with thoughts of Jacey. "I'm here now. Anyone special come in yet?"
  He looks to the right and nods toward the bar. "The stallion in the back asked for you by name when he came in."
  'Not Jay, not Jay, not Jay,' I pray as I turn, slowly. All right, it's not Jacey. He's too tall. I can't quite make out the face, but the body's bangin'. "I'll check you in a few, Dee. I'm going to see what that's about." I wink to Dumond and head into the club.
  I'm stopped only once tonight before reaching the bar. Good. I'm more in need of a drink than conversation right now. Coming closer to the lit area, I make out the face of the guy Dumond and I were checking out. My God! I know him. And he is definitely fine. His name. What is his name? He's looking at me as if he remembers me, so I can't look like a fool. What is his name? He's approaching me. His name?
  "A drink, Miss?" he asks.
  Oh, crud. "Hi, sure. Thank you." I'm still wracking my brain for the name. I usually don't recall names until I save their numbers in my cell phone. "She knows what I drink." I signal the bartender.
  "I've seen you in here a few nights. This your regular hangout?" he asks.
  I smile as his name finally comes to me. "You already assumed so, didn't you? You did ask for me at the door, and we met here last weekend. You here often?"
  "No." He hands his credit card to Maria, then hands my drink to me. "I'm not into the club scene much. I stop in for a minute or two for a drink and usually head home before the crowd comes in."
  "What brings you here tonight? Rough day at work?" I pry. Clean and good-looking doesn't always mean employed.
  He leans against the bar looking like a posing Adonis. "My day off. My guys won yesterday. I gave them the weekend to chill."
  "Your guys. A coach, I'm guessing?" I flirtatiously flip my olive with the toothpick, then sip from my glass.
  He nods. "High school football. Almost two years here. Three years in Virginia."
  "You're from Virginia?" I'm not sure why I'm carrying on this conversation, but I can't seem to shut up and walk away from him. "I don't mean to be nosey. You don't have to answer that."
  His pearly whites show. "I went to college there and got the offer my last year. Screwed up my knee and shoulder playing, so I figured coaching would be a good way to go. I'm actually from Arkansas." He pulls out a barstool and gently motions me to sit. "You're not being nosey. You're a good conversationalist. I like that."
  "You don't know me," I mutter, taking the seat.
  "Sorry, I didn't even ask. Getting a little ahead of myself. Am I keeping you from anything at the moment?"
  I look over the entire club from where I stand. Shaking my head, I reply, "Um . . . no. We can chitchat for a moment, I suppose."
  He leans into me. "How's your drink?"
  I sit back on the barstool. Okay, now he's scaring me. 'Personal space, man,' I'm thinking. "It's fine, thank you. The way I like it," I say, one eyebrow raised.
  Luckily, he reads the look on my face and steps back. He takes a swallow of his drink. "What do you do for fun, Ms. Bend?" Placing his glass on the bar, he waves to Maria for another.
  Here I am with this fine looking man, and he asks me a question that brings me right back to Jacey. I can't very well say, 'I fool around with my ex for kicks.' I need a new hobby. Or a different man. Or a new cat. . .
  "Taylor," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "Are you with me?"
  I take a gulp from my glass. "With you? Uh, yeah. Sorry, Leek." I place my glass down and cross my hands in my lap. "What was your question?" I give him the schoolgirl admiring the handsome teacher look.
  "I asked what you do for fun," he says, implying he meant to ask my profession.
  "I'm a part owner of Bend-Frantz Catering. Heard of it?" I ask. A tap on my shoulder distracts me from Leek's response.

  Leek walks in, talking to Tracy, this girl I know. He waves at me and keeps walking toward the bar. Tracy looks at me over her shoulder. Her arm slithers around Leek's waist. He takes a few steps to the right, as if to get her arm from around him without being rude.
  I take my usual dance spot and begin moving to the music. Peter smacks me on my behind. I smack him behind his head. We both laugh. He dances before me briefly, then walks off with his wife. Lawrence walks up behind me and begins dancing against me. I reach over my head and grasp the back of his neck. As I grind deeper and deeper into his pelvis, he mutters something into my ear. "What's that, Larry?"
  Lawrence chortles. "I said, you'll have to come home with me if you keep that up." He hugs me really tight, then spins me toward him.
  "Your girlfriend might not think that's a good idea, Larry. She already doesn't like me much."
  He begins walking away. "You'd be surprised what she goes for these days. And her problem with you isn't because she doesn't like you." He vanishes in the crowd on the dance floor.
  What the heck did that mean? I'm puzzled. Ah, well, I'll find out some other time. My cell begins to vibrate, and I flip it open. Grab me a brew! it reads. I peek around the corner at Dumond and nod.
  I get to the bar and order a beer for Dee. As I turn to go back to the front, I see Leek pinned against the wall by Tracy. It appears to be the 'in your face' type of thing I know she sometimes does. He doesn't look as if he's resisting, though. I continue to my destination.
  Dumond intakes half of his beer before taking a breath. "I needed that badly." He looks me over. "You look bored out of your mind. Either that, or like you'd rather be someplace else tonight."
  I shake my head in disagreement. I am the last to admit my own defeat. "A little worn from my day, that's all. How's your world?"
  He takes the last swallow, then trashes the empty bottle. "Lonely. I'm at the bank five mornings a week, then here every other night." He takes money from someone walking in. "I think it's time for a new direction. And you? We haven't gone to lunch since August."
  Stepping out of the way of someone walking out, I grab Dumond's hand. "I know. Soon, I promise. I've been traveling. Things will die down after the holidays." I feel someone's hand against the small of my back. I can't quite turn to see who it is with Dumond holding on to me so tightly.
  "Leaving so soon?" Leek asks.
  I kiss Dumond on the cheek and walk outside.
  "Did I do something wrong?" He follows me out. "I'm sorry."
  "Nothing to feel sorry about! I was moving away from the doorway, to get away from the noise."
  "I'm going to head home shortly. Wanted to speak to you. . ." He pauses, seemingly in the middle of a sentence. "P-Possibly get your number."
  Did he just stutter? That's not smooth. It's cute, though. I reach into my purse and pull out my business card holder. "I need to order some more cards. You get the last one I have here."
   

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