It's Got A Ring To It (4 page)

“And
…
she told
me Ethan was getting married.”

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, Lena flew off the handle.
“This is what I’m talking about. That woman is so wretched. Uncouth! What made
her think it was a good idea to tell you something like that. She knew it would
hurt you
,
and you know
she did it deliberately to bring you down. It’s like they know you’re finally
leaving him behind and they want to keep dragging you down by the coattails.
Ugh
!
If I run into her,
you’ll have to hold me back
…
”

I assumed
Nana Bea
told me so I wouldn’t have to hear it from anyone else, but when I got a chance
to really think about it, Lena had a point. There was no positive outcome that
could’ve resulted from her telling me. Nana Bea was
there,
she saw what he did to me. For goodness sake, she
was
the one who picked me up off the floor.
Something told me that Ethan had a part in it. That was our Hallmark and we
always went there, but there was no possible way she could’ve know I’d be there
on that day at that time. He must have had radar for my happiness. Every time I
got
halfway out of the dark
hole I’d dug, something happened to hold me
down
.

Lena went on arguing about Nana Bea and some conspiratorial sabotage
plot, but I was zoned out. Between a few “
yeps
” and “
nopes
,
”
here and there to ensure her that I was paying attention, I stared at the road
trying to imagine myself going through another setback. Just the thought of it
pissed me off. Was Ethan sitting home dwelling on the past and secretly wishing
for me to come back to him? No. Had he even stopped to make sure I was okay?
No. So, why the hell was I living my life in a rut, stagnant and barely
bordering on complacency?

Lena must have been reading my mind
,
because she chimed in as if she’d been
following along with my thoughts. “
Laila
, it’s time
for you to wake up and stop living in the past
.
”

“I know
,
Lena. It’s just easier said than done. I’m working on it. Believe me.”

“Well, I’m not going to just sit
here
and let you slip back into oblivion.
Olivia, Denise, and I are going out tonight and you’re coming with us, so get
yourself together
.
I’ll
meet you at your house in a couple of hours. Oh, and you’re driving because I
need a designated driver.” And just like that, it was only the resounding dial
tone and my adrenaline getting pumped up
that I heard
.

Back at home, my most
formfitting,
sexy
black mini was laid out on the bed. At least the classics never go out of
style. Luckily, shoes have never been a problem for me. I’d acquired enough for
this lifetime and the next. Figuring out my mood was always the hardest part.
Most of the time, black seemed the most appropriate for the gloom that
surrounded me. Then, all I needed to do was determine how much so, and opt for
the corresponding heel height to go with it. Something about that night seemed
different, all black wouldn’t do. I couldn’t exactly go cold turkey, but a
punch of color or pizzazz on the feet would definitely take me from drab to
fab.

Let’s see. Let’s see. Oxford heels, not sexy enough.
Red patent leather, trying too hard.
Strappy
gold gladiators screamed teenybopper, a category of which I could finally face
that I was no longer a part.
There was the hot leather ones in cognac,
but the wooden soles would surely have me looking more like I was in pain than
recovering from it. All at once, it hit me. The Jimmy
Choo
Tahiti Glitter peep-toe pumps
,
which were
collecting dust in the back of my closet. My one shoe splurge
that I got off eBay from a woman whose husband found out what she paid and made
her get rid of them. Lucky for me, her husband’s trash was my treasure. They
felt sexy and dangerous.
Elegant but fun.
Flirty but not easy.
Glitzy party girl,
but not going home with you tonight.
How fitting that the shoes
intended
to take me down the
road to happily ever after would be the ones to lead me onto a new path.

My makeup was scattered across the bathroom counter complete with a
smoky
eye shadow
kit
and pink lipstick. It looked more like something Ni
c
ki
Minaj
would
wear
—
the perfect
amount of crazy minus the fluorescent hair. Still damp from the shower, I put
on a few spritzes of Dolce &
Gabana
Light Blue
perfume and let it marinate on my skin.

Everything was already set for the night, but it still felt like
something was missing. Or, rather something was clashing with the whole new me
, which
I planned to debut.
I stood facing the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink, searching for
something out of place. With every deep breath, I felt the need to get out from
beneath the weight I’d been carrying. The nerve started building within me. I
could lie to everyone around me, but I still had to live with myself.

Her words came rushing back to me. Rage began to bubble up like bile
in my throat. “Better late than never,” she said. It was a statement, but it
felt more like an unspoken mantra. Nana Bea was
right,
it is better late than never. Better to start over now, than never
at all
. It was what I’d
needed to hear. Suddenly, I had enough gumption to do what needed to be done. I
reached into the
counter
drawer
and pulled out the shears. Moments later, all the burdens I bore, thirty
-
one years of safety, and
nearly a foot of my split ends fell to the floor.

FIVE

I was
still staring at myself in the mirror when Lena arrived. Out of habit, I
reached for the hair that
now
barely made it below my ears. I felt lighter in so many ways. Airier.
Newer, even.
I’
ve
always been the ponytail girl. An
asymmetrical bob was never an option, but it seemed to suit the raised
cheekbones of my symmetrical face.

As the
air conditioning
cut on, a breeze
across the back of my shoulders sprinkled
goose bumps
all over them. And from the
front, the clear view of my
d
éc
olletage
made me feel more feminine than I’d
felt in years. I wondered why I ever covered it in the first place, despite
Ethan’s incessant urging that I was leading other men on. It just made me
realize,
I’d
held
back on so many things
for his sake. It only made me more curious what, or
whom,
I would find without him.

Not a
ll the
clichés about there being more fish in the sea and someone for everyone could
be lies. I just hoped that
I was dangling the right bait. Whatever that meant. Not that much could be
hidden with the little black number I wore, edging up my thighs and cinching my
waist into a magnified hourglass. I didn’t even know what dating was like
anymore. A few years out of the game and I’d become obsolete. No one-liners. No
game. No clue.

Lena took one look at me and shrieked.
“What the hell have you done?”

“Like it?” The way she screamed, I couldn’t tell whether it was out
of disbelief, or sheer dislike. I turned to model my new hair for her. My hands
pressed down on the little hair I had left, reaching for the phantom locks. But
they were gone and in their place
was
only me.
Naked skin and emotions.

“Oh my
G
od. I
love it. Shit! I can’t believe you did it. You actually did it!”

I’d threatened to cut my hair a billion times, but couldn’t find the
nerve to go through with it. It was no sense
carrying
anything that would hold me back. A
smile, a mile wide, spanned my face as I twirled, feeling “Gone with the Wind
fabulous.”

As soon as we got to the club, I
was
clued in on just how much times had
changed. Clearly, the pressure was no longer solely on the guy. Men used to
initiate contact and woo us, but women had become just as much the hunters. The
dresses had gotten shorter. The heels were insanely higher, and sexual innuendo
was downright blatant. Lines filled with tourists waiting to lose their
inhibitions spanned the casino in both directions, with the exception of a
designated area roped off for VIP, otherwise known as people willing to tip
bouncers upwards of a few hundred just for club entry. Luckily, Lena and her
friends seemed to know a few of the bouncers and we got in quickly.
I have to admit,
as Lena
gave the
H
erculean
security guard a sweet wink and a little nibble on the cheek, I fel
t
a bit like a celebrity.
People who’d likely been waiting for hours
seemed to
wonder who we were, who we knew,
and if they should know who we were.
The weight of their eyes lifted us
onto a virtual pedestal and smoothly parlayed us into the vibrating trance.

Music blared and drinks flowed. We’d entered a different realm. Along
with the rhythmic current, the pick-up lines streamed nonstop. “Babe, you’re
like a Mercedes Benz in a world of Chevys,” one guy said, feeling confident in
his game. Another lightly clutched my elbow and closely whispered in my ear, “
A
re you a track star,
because you’ve been running through my mind all night.” I must’ve had a sign on
my forehead that requested all losers apply because the next two were corny as
ever, but actually made me giggle and give
a
once-over. A semi-cutie wearing specs gave me the smolder and asked, “Do you
have a library card? Because I’m checking you out,” and I felt a little tickle
in my stomach as I politely brushed him off. Not a few minutes later, Mr. Suave
tapped me on the shoulder and told me that I owed him money, and when I looked
at him quizzically, he yelled, “
Y
ou’ve been living in my heart and haven’t
paid rent.” With a
half-smile
,
I gave Lena the “save me look,” and she and the girls huddled close
around me in a protective
barricade so he couldn’t get to me.

“Is it always like this?” I mouthed to them. It had been a while
since I’d been out, but I couldn’t remember the men being so aggressive. They
could smell the new blood in the water and they were willing to fight for their
prey.

Practically in unison, the girls nodded and laughed at me. “You’ll
get used to it,” Lena assured me not so convincingly. At that point, I wasn’t
sure
if
I wanted to get
used to being hunted. There wasn’t much of a thrill in the chase for me. Why
did
there
have to be games anyway. Seemed more
productive to just get to the point. The wallflower in me wanted to find a
quiet, empty corner and plop myself against it. But, that’s what the old me
would’ve done.

Lena leaned in and
said
,
“It’s the hair. It’s like a magnet. You’re going to be beating them off with a
stick.” And boy was she right. The whole night, men were touching my neck and
whispering so close to my skin, sending chills up my spine. It could’ve been
the hair, but either way, I was
ill-prepared
to handle
all the attention.

The fact that I’d outgrown the scene wasn’t lost on me or anyone
else. I was ready to go almost immediately after arriving, but something in me
needed to see how the other half lived. Besides the obvious era changes, men
were still trying to figure women out, people still used alcohol as an excuse
for vile behavior, and I still preferred to be with one person rather than on
the prowl. I thought, possibly it was too soon for me to be looking, but I
stuck it out for Lena. This was her scene. She knew how to make her way in with
a little feminine charm and let the guys down easy with tact and etiquette. I
wondered if the domestic life would tame her desire to be out with her friends
partying until dawn. She’d be with one man, but Lena and her friends would
secretly be envying the greener grass. While Lena scattered to stock up on
clubbing before being officially locked down into domestication, her friends
were eager and desperate
to
hook up with the pick of the night for fear of letting the so-called good ones
get away.

It baffled me to think about how the definition of hooking up had
changed. It used to mean getting together for a date to get to know one
another. A little chitchat over drinks at happy hour or a quick meal. To the
new generation, it still meant getting to know each other, only on a physical
level. Once the first names were exchanged, all other pretenses were pushed to
the wayside. One-night stands never were my thing
,
because I couldn’t imagine what I’d see
when I looked at myself in the mirror the next morning. I came close once,
before I met Ethan, when I let a guy spend the night. Even though we only slept
atop the sheets, the cheap feeling attached to his presence before knowing what
he would mean to me was unbearable. For the women I saw that night at the club,
their mission seemed to be taking home the hottest guy. I couldn’t figure how
that was supposed to be conducive to forming a solid relationship with a man,
enough to eventually tie the knot.

Olivia was drunk beyond comprehension, so I wasn’t surprised that
she’d found a lucky winner for the evening. Her tongue was lodged down his
throat. Like a car accident on the freeway, I should’ve turned away, but the
rubbernecker in me couldn’t stop staring. As he made his way to her neck, I was
shocked to see one of my earlier charmers. The James Dean look alike was the
worst of them all. When he first started to compliment me, I was sure there was
going to be some absurd punch line. But, his was simple and to the point
,
“Nice shoes.
Wanna
fuck?” All the old movies I watched, made me want to
give him a dramatic slap in the face and declare, “Well. If I never!”
Surprisingly, I was muzzled in silence.
All I
could
do was
walk away. Dating had come to that. A
quick compliment followed by a
n
ornery invitation to bed. Wooing was a
thing of the past.
I
t
seemed to be
all about
instant gratification and orgasms.

The designated driver as usual, I was all but thrilled that I got to
battle with borderline narcolepsy while Lena and Denise snored and slobbered on
the suede seats of my Passat. My eyelids were balancing weights and the warm
wind seemed to be tucking me in rather than keeping me awake. I drifted back to
my wild first night back into the social cesspool.

After all the mishaps of the night
,
and Olivia ditching us for her latest
conquest, I figured the rest of the evening would be us girls wildly dancing
and toasting our last drink before making our own last call. It was
unfathomable to me that the night could get any worse.

It only took one drink for me to feel the effect, but I felt like I
was on the same level as Lena and Denise. We danced in our own closed
-
off circle, dazed in a
drunken stupor. Lena was singing
along to
“I
Gotta
Feeling” by The
Black Eyed Peas
at
to the top of her lungs. Denise and I jumped up and down, screaming
to the chorus.

Suddenly, someone bumped into Denise. We all turned. At first
,
we saw no one. Then, we
noticed a girl squatting to the floor. From a distance, the girl looked like
she was just dancing really low with a guy--dropping it like it was hot. But as
the crowd spread,
m
y
mouth dropped and my eyes bulged.
T
here was something more going on. Her
platinum blond hair dipped over her bare back in her strapless royal blue
dress. As the she pulled her head back, the sight of skin cascading in and out
of her mouth let us know that what we were seeing was indeed what we thought.
Fellatio in the dead center of the dance floor.
Never in my
life did I ever think I would see such a display in public view. She was
obviously sloshed. It could’ve been the alcohol, but my educated guess included
ecstasy and some other pill party concoction. Sadly, she must’ve believed that
what happens in Vegas stays here, but from the makeshift paparazzi crew of
pervy
guys pointing their cell phones at the display and
asking if they could be next, what happens in Vegas more often becomes a viral
YouTube
spectacle.

Miss Fellatio seemed unfazed
—n
either embarrassment nor pride
was a
deterrent. She’d
either lost her inhibitions, or never had any to begin with. Like nothing had
happened out of the ordinary, she came up for air and continued swaying to the
music. Taking in the crowd carrying on business as usual, it became apparent
that I was the only one appalled and distressed by her foul behavior.
Muted laughter under the din of loud music.
Clothed
grinding. Mating dances. Bottoms up. For everyone else, the unsettling course
of events was normal.

Even more disconcerting, that meant I was abnormal. If I thought I
was a little out of the dating loop, such conduct proved that I couldn’t be
any
f
a
rther in over my head if I w
ere
sinking in quicksand. It
would’ve been so easy for me to retreat at that point. Run back to Ethan. That
would’ve been my fail
-
safe.

But, Ethan wasn’t an option, so I
needed a new one and I wouldn’t meet him sitting at home.
Or,
at the club, for that matter.
After an evening in the deep end, it was
apparent I needed to take baby steps into shallower waters.