Adventurous Me (2 page)

“Yeah,” I snarl into the phone. I know it’s Sheila, but I still don’t want to talk to anyone.

“Trish, what’s wrong?” She’s too damn good. I can’t hide anything from her.

“Ron’s leaving me.”

“What? WHAT? Are you kidding? What the hell?”

“I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that. Says I’m boring, predictable, tiresome. Can you believe that shit?” I’m still sweeping up glass. I sure threw a bunch of stuff. This is not a complaint; it’s an observation. If I could’ve laid my hands on more stuff to throw, I would’ve.

“What are you going to do?” I know she’s trying to be practical here, but I’m in no mood.

“I’m going to go get myself a drink, seeing as how I broke every bottle of beer in the house.”

“Over his head?” I hear her giggle.

“No. I’m a lousy shot. But I wish.” I straighten up and drop the broom and dustpan right where I’m standing. “I need something with vodka in it. Right now. You up for it?”

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not. You’re going to need a keeper tonight, so I guess that’ll be me.”

“You’re gonna be
my
keeper? Good luck,” I tell her. “You’re gonna need it.”

“You girls looking for anything in particular?” the guy who walks up to us asks. I look up at him through the vodka’s haze. Good looking enough.

Sheila doesn’t miss a beat. “No.”

“Hey, I’ll speak for myself!” I slur. “Yeah, I’m looking for adventure! Got any?”

“I’m sure we can come up with something!” he laughs and turns to the bartender. “Bring her another cosmo, wouldja?” Then he turns back to me. “My name’s Jeff. What’s yours?”

“Um,” I say, not knowing if I should give him my real name; then I decide, what the hell? “Trish. I’m Trish. This one over here,” I say, pointing at Sheila, “is Party Pooper.” Somehow, everything I say is extremely funny.

“Well, Trish, I’m glad to meet you. And you too, PP,” he laughs. “Want to go somewhere else, since you’re feeling adventurous?”

“Sure! What’ve you got in mind?” I think I’m about to get laid, but it’s been almost thirty years since I’ve dated, so I’m not really sure.

“Well, let’s see, I have more vodka at my house, and a big flat-screen, and a big bed, and . . .”

Yep. I’m getting laid.

“Hell yeah! Let’s go!” I try to get up off the stool and I almost crash into the man sitting on my other side. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry!”

He turns and says, “That’s okay,” but before he gets a chance to say another word, I get a look at him. A good look. He’s got to be at least sixty, but he’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. White hair, white mustache and goatee, and luminous blue eyes with cute laugh crinkles around them. And he’s wrapped in leather. One fine package. He’s been sitting there most of the evening and I didn’t even notice him. “You okay?” he asks me in a voice like melted caramel while he eyes Jeff.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I stammer. Suddenly I’m having trouble talking even though a minute and a half ago I was the funniest, most articulate woman in the world. I try to get up again – same result.

“Whoa! I think you’d better sit down until the room stops moving. Don’t you think so, Jeff?” the man asks, and Jeff kind of shrinks.

“Hey, Trish, another time maybe?” Before I can answer, he’s gone.

“Wait a minute! You ran off my piece of ass.” I’m getting kind of pissed now.

Guy On Stool laughs. “You don’t need that. Looks like you need a keeper!”

“Yeah, that’s what old Party Pooper over there said.” I point at Sheila. She’s so disgusted with me that she’s found someone else to talk to and she’s ignoring me.

“Smart friend. Just sit here and keep me company. If you want.” He sticks out his right hand. “Name’s Dave. You’re Trish?”

“Yeah, how did you . . . oh, right, Jeff.” I shake my head and he laughs again, but I take his hand and shake it. He’s got a nice grip, and his hands are strong but smooth.

“So I heard you say you’re out looking for a little adventure. Is that right?” He picks up his on-the-rocks glass and puts it to his lips. Looking at his hands makes something inside me kind of vibrate in a funny way.

“Yeah. My rat bastard soon-to-be-ex says I’m boring and tedious, or something like that.” I can’t remember exactly what Ron said and, at this particular moment, I really don’t care. “So I thought I’d show him.”

“You do realize that trying to prove something to someone is a lousy reason to do something, don’t you?” His gaze is serious.

I can feel my face burning. “Yes. I do. But I think that, in some ways, he might be right.” I suddenly realize it’s very embarrassing to say something like that to a total stranger, but there’s a way about this guy that makes me trust him and want to talk to him.

He points at me. “Let me ask you something: When was the last time he took you on an adventure?” Dave then takes another sip of his drink while I ponder, and he’s looking at me from under those beautiful dark lashes.

“Um, what do you mean?”

“Let’s see . . . the last time he took you to do something that was potentially dangerous, like white-water rafting or rappelling? Or skydiving?” I shake my head. “Or when he took you on a discovery trip, like to an archaeological site, or a tour of an underground cavern, or to watch a colony of bats flying out of their cave as they’re leaving for their evening feeding?” I shake my head again. “Where’s the most adventurous place he ever had sex with you?”

I think for a minute. “Um, the living room?”

“Oh my god.” Dave takes another swig and grins. “And he called
you
boring and tedious? He’s got a lot of nerve.” He shakes his head. “So what kind of adventure did you have in mind?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Obviously something I’ve never done before, or it wouldn’t be an adventure, right?”

“And what haven’t you done?”

“Most everything.” Now I’m kind of ashamed. Maybe I really
am
boring.

“What size do you wear?”

“Huh?” That’s a weird question for him to ask me.

“What size? Clothes? Shoes? What size do you wear?” He’s looking me in the eye – he’s dead serious about whatever it is that he’s thinking.

“Um, a ten or a twelve? Shoes, a seven and a half.”

“Want an adventure?” His eyes sparkle and those smile crinkles go into action.

“Maaaaayyybeeeeeee . . .”

“Well, if you do, just come by this address tomorrow night. I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime. When you get there, just tell the doorman that you’re a guest of Dave. They’ll call me to the front and I’ll walk you right on in.” He pulls out a pen, writes something on a business card, and hands it to me.

All that’s printed on it is the word “Bliss” on the front; his name’s written there too, and there’s an address on the back that he wrote down. The address is in a business area, so it’s not his house. I have no idea what this is all about, so I stammer, “We’ll see.”

“Okay. All I ask is that you give it a chance. If you come by and don’t want to stay, that’ll be okay. But I think the adventurous side of you will like it. Bring your friend too. She might like it there.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll come by.” There’s something magnetic about this guy, something that makes me want to get to know him better. I start to think it might be time to leave, so I stand. He was right – the room
has
stopped moving. “I think I’d better get home before I’m tempted to get trashed again.” I smile at him.

“It’s been nice to meet you, Trish. I hope to see you again, maybe tomorrow night.” He stands like a gentleman would. I have this overwhelming desire to hug him and, before the thought can go into and come back out of my brain, Dave says, “You’re having a rough time. I’ll give you a hug if you’d like.” He opens his arms and for reasons I don’t understand, I walk into his embrace. It feels comfortable and warm, not at all creepy. I really, really like this guy, and I make my mind up immediately. When he turns loose, I look up at him.

“It’s been nice to meet you too, Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I turn and head home, Party Pooper in tow.

“What was that about?” Sheila quizzes me in the car.

“We’ve got somewhere to go tomorrow night,” I tell her. Before I left the bar, I’d already made up my mind.

If there was adventure to be had there, I was going to plant myself right in the middle of it.

“I’ve got to work late.”

“How late?” Sheila’s backing out on me. I think she’s scared.

“Until at least ten.” She doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

“Okay. Guess I’ll go alone.”

“No! That doesn’t seem very smart, Trish. You don’t know what you’re walking into,” she scolds into the phone.

“I’ll be fine. It’s in a business district in town. It’ll be okay. But I wish you could go.”

“Maybe another time. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I want to hear all about it.” We hang up and I’m alone. The idea of going alone is kind of scary, but it’s also kind of exciting too.

I’m in the bathroom, paying special attention to my makeup and hair, when I hear the front door open. It’s got to be Ron.

Before I even make it into the room I yell out, “What the hell are you doing here?” It makes me furious to see him standing in the middle of the living room.

“I came by to pack up some more of my stuff. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” He finally takes a good look at me, and he looks surprised. “You’re not, are you?”

“Actually, I am,” I tell him and head back to the bathroom.

“And where are you going?” he asks. I want to tell him that it’s none of his business, but that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.

“Somewhere fun. To have an adventure.” I’m trying not to grin too big.

“An adventure. I see. Well, you have fun with that.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“I plan to. If you take anything that’s not yours, so help me god, I’ll chase you down and . . .”

“I won’t. I just want this to be over, Trish. I’ve wasted too much time in this relationship.”

Wow. I can’t think of anything he could’ve said that would’ve hurt me more. I was wasted time. And he didn’t waste mine? “Well, I’m done wasting my time on
you
. I’m going out and paint the town.”

“Good luck. You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you in the ass,” he laughs.

Oh yeah? I’ll show him. As least I hope I do.

I use my navigation system to find the address. When I get there, it’s a nondescript building between two other buildings in a downtown block. There’s a public parking garage across the street, so I park there and walk across.

There’s no signage on the building until I walk up to the door. There’s a small brass placard that says “BLISS.” Nothing else. And it’s only about a foot wide, so you have to be right in front of the door to see it. I stand there for a few seconds, then push on the door.

I step into something that looks strangely like a doctor’s waiting room – fluorescent lighting, wood and vinyl chairs, and an office with a window. There’s a guy sitting in the office and he looks like no physician’s receptionist I’ve ever seen. He’s got so much ink on him that he looks like a road map of Dallas, no kidding. He gives me a warm smile that looks kind of out of place on his face and says, “Hi! Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah.” I stumble over my own tongue and pull out the card. “Dave gave me this last night. He asked me to come by.”