Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (11 page)

“Excuse me.”

I turn toward the female voice and see a girl with long black hair, blue eyes, and a baby face. She’s not sitting at my table, but she waves me over with her bangled arm.

“Yes?” I notice a car seat carrier beside her in a spare chair but no baby.

“You’re Blaire, right?” Before I can answer, she continues. “I’m Cory. I used to fuck Ryan
.”

Oooookay?
I lift a brow at her to show my confusion. But she looks so serious, and I kind of want to laugh.

Finally, she clarifies. “You know? The tatted drummer boy from the band that plays here.”

“Oh, right. I’m sure you and half the population have probably fucked him.”

“I haven’t.”

I turn and see Jax’s little sister Jazz taking a seat in the vacant chair across from Cory. She has a dark haired little girl about six months old with the fattest cheeks and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, sitting on her hip. I can’t help but smile at her when she stares at me.

“What’s her name?” I find myself asking. I’m not used to kids because I’ve never spent any time around them. However, this little girl has an effect on me that I’m not used to.

“This is Princess Finlee.”

“Oh, Sweet Yoda Jazz! Would you stop introducing her as Princess Finlee? Someone is going to think you’re crazy.”

“She is a princess. I’m the queen and Mason’s the King. So you might as well face it Cory.” Jazz sticks her tongue out in Cory’s direction.

“Fine. Then I’m the Fairy god-bitch.”

“And what is Bo?”

Cory shrugs. “The hell if I know. He can be the royal guard or somethin. Better yet. He can be royal crop farmer. Because heaven forbid he tries anything else in life.”

“But he’s goal oriented. And super sexy.”

“Can I help you two with something?” I ask before this ridiculous conversation continues. “If not I really need to get back to my tables.”

“When do you get off?” Cory asks.

“Um… and why would I tell you?”

“Because you want to. Besides, as Tara Sivec would say, ‘Vagina’s For Life.’ So unless you tuck, we need to stick together.”

“Who’s Tara Sivec?” I shake my head, trying to gain some sense after the most ridiculous five minutes in my entire life. “Never mind. I get off in two hours.”

Cory nods her head as they stand to leave. “Good. I’ll pick you up then.” She passes me a twenty. “Here’s your tip.”

“This isn’t my table.” I say but they continue out the door.

Sure enough, when I walk out Jay’s door, Cory is outside waiting for me. “Hey hoochie! Where to?”

“I’m going home. What you do is up to you.”

“Sorry, hon, you’re stuck with me for tonight. I think you need a friend and one with tits.” She cups her boobs. “And I got you covered in both areas. I’ll have your back, and you can feel me up if you want. But remember, no matter how hot you are, I’m stickin’ with the dick. So get in.” She gets in a newer Volkswagen Beetle that’s as black as her hair and has a Mickey Mouse head on the antenna. I scrutinize her for a minute and debate on what the hell am I going to do, but then she honks the horn, causing me to jump. “Get your ass moving.”

Rolling my eyes, I get in the passenger side and feel something heavy hit my lap. “That’s to answer your question from earlier.”

I look at the large white book decorated with cupcakes. “A cookbook?”

“Ha! No. That is so much better than a fuckin’ cookbook. That is Tara Sivec’s bible to bad days and vaginas that need a pick me up and maybe some masturbating visuals.” She wags her eyebrows. “She’s better than Oprah.”

The Chocolate Lovers Series
by Tara Sivec sits in my lap, and I don’t know what to do with it. Reading is not my thing. “I don’t have time to read.”

“Make the time. You’ll be a happier person. Especially if masturbation is involved.”

As she drives, I skim through the pages instead of watching the scenery pass outside my window. On the title page, I see written in pretty script ‘Vaginas for life’ and Tara Sivec signature below. I guess Cory sees what I’m looking at because she tells me she met her recently at an Author signing. She also tells me her three favorite things in life are Sci-Fi conventions, Disney, and smut. My only thought is this girl is crazy.

When we come to a stop, I’m already on chapter three and laughing as quietly as possible. I didn’t think I’d enjoy reading about some chick wanting to lose her V-card. But honestly, anything is better than real life.

“See…I told you. Pure brilliance to make even the meanest bitches smile.”

Looking up, I see we’re not at Chris’s house. Instead, we’re on University of South Alabama’s campus in front of an old building, which I assume is a dorm. Before I can ask questions she’s already out and walking toward the ugly green door. I follow behind and up two flights of stairs because the elevator is out of order before we finally reach her room.

“Look Cory. I appreciate the ride, but I really need to get back to my place.”

“Nope. We are going out tonight. Just the two of us and my dear friend
Jose Cuervo.” She throws her purse on her bed as she continues.
“
Before you argue about it, answer this question. When is the last time you laughed or had a friend?”

“I don’t do friends.”

“Because you’ve been duped one too many times or burned? Well Blaire Bear, you’re not the only one who’s been shit on in life. I learned to take a shovel and toss the shit back at ‘em or hit the fuckers over the head with it. Either way is fine with me. I saw how you’ve handled yourself at Jay’s and I think we could be friends. Yeah. I’m loud and weird. I speak my mind and could care less if I offend a preacher. I own my individuality no matter who doesn’t approve or who tries to change me. Not even my boyfriend can change me. I’m a liberal, raised in a conservative family, while living in Jersey. And hell! I’m proud of it.”

“So you want to fix me? Is that it? I’m not a charity case for you or anyone.” My anger boils from this girl’s nerve to call me out like that. Why do people want to fix me when I’m too damaged?

She comes to stand in front of me and loses her smart-ass attitude. Her blue eyes are stern, and her back is ramrod straight. I stiffen when her hands land on my shoulder. “No. I don’t want to fix you. You’re not broken. You’re you.” She takes a deep breath and continues in a whisper. “But you do live like a victim. And what you need to learn is how to be a survivor.”

She sees right through me. My head swims with confusion from her words. I feel exposed and accepted all at once, and it’s such a bittersweet moment that tears form in my eyes. “How… how do you know that?” My voice is strained and low, but she hears me.

“Because I was you.”

Her arms wrap around me, and instead of running, I welcome it. No one knows what I went through, my dark secrets. Benji only knew by accident. He never made me talk about it, and deep down, I knew he didn’t understand. But this girl does. She does, and I don’t have to talk about it and worry about reliving it any more than I have to.

All of the sudden, she lets go and smiles, transforming her into the girl I met earlier. “So? You up for a few hours of living and not reliving?”

We decide not to go to Jay Jay’s. Well, she decided not to after she hung the phone up with her boyfriend Bo. She said he’d look for her there. She told him she wasn’t feeling well, but he’s still called several times, so she finally turned her phone off. I want to ask why be with someone she needs to lie to or escape from, but that’s not my business. Besides, I know she doesn’t want to talk about it. If she did, she’d bring it up. So after two shots of Jose, she dresses me in black jeggings with a white and silver off-the-shoulder shirt. I slip on my flats, and we head out toward downtown. We walk around, eat at a local pizza place, and head to Grand Central.

“You want another shot?”

“Yeah!” I yell in her direction. The music is blasting my eardrums and the liquor is flowing in my blood. I’m feeling loose and relaxed. That’s the only word to describe it. She grabs my hand, and we make our way to the bar and take a seat where no one stares. Being incognito and unrecognizable feels wonderful and reminds me of my time on the road with Mandy, and I can transform into anybody I want. But who? I don’t know yet.

My eyes go to the band on the small stage. Two guys and two girls play some cover songs from the early nineties. The lead singer is wearing tighter pants than me, and he appears to be a glory hog while the girl on guitar is dressed to show off her gorgeous hourglass figure. Her long, dark hair is garnered by a red headband and her bangs roll up like a sixties pin-up model. She shows off her ass in ripped jeans, and a red bustier displays her ginormous boobs. The guy on bass and her give one another annoyed looks. The other girl with white dreads bangs on the drums in the back clueless as to the singer making his own rules as he goes. I would hate to work in a band that can’t communicate with one another.

“Hey, beautiful.” Someone whispers in my ear. I turn to see a well-dressed guy that looks to be my age. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. But you have to buy my friend one, too.” I nod my head toward Cory who’s chatting it up with the bartender.

“Okay. But first tell me what your name is.”

This is it. The moment when I can be Blaire or someone else. I hold my hand out and say the first name that comes to mind. “Call me Red.”

Three shots later, I feel no pain and have no memories haunting me. In fact, I’m not me. I’m some sexy girl, rubbing myself all over some guy in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I feel his hands on my hips as they rotate and I start feeling hot. Not just temperature wise, either. Soon, the urge to go to the bathroom overrules my libido, and I yell my intentions to Cory who’s just returned with more shots.

“Hurry back.” My mystery guy tells me, and I can’t help but laugh for no reason. His face blurs before it morphs into the one I’ve seen too often tonight, the one person I’ve imagined watching me, over and over again. I’ve tried making him jealous at times, but knew how stupid that was. It’s just the alcohol because the drunker I become, the more my visions morph into the guy with the badass tattoos and sultry voice, Lyric fucking Devereux.

Luckily, I’m not in heels because I don’t think I would be able to walk if I were. I’ve never drunk this much before. But hey! I like it. I like not feeling like shit. I like being normal for the first damn time in my twenty-five years of life. Maybe alcoholics knew what they were doing after all. I push open the bathroom door and hurry to relieve myself.
Man! Peeing is the bomb
.

After the euphoric feeling is gone, I wash my hands and make my way out the door, but before I can look up, I’m against a wall in the back, looking into those beautiful eyes that I’ve imagined on me all damn night. “Hi, you,” I slur with a big smile on my face. He doesn’t look happy though. “Hey. Anyone home?” I flick his nose, and he scrunches it up. Still pissed though. What a party farter.
Ha! I said fart.

“What the fuck are you doin?” Now the fucking vision wants to get an attitude with me.

“Hell to the no!” I quickly cover my mouth. “Oops! Thought I was thinking that thought. Any who. I’m par-tay-ing. Wasssss it looks like, Mr. Sexy?”

His lip lifts up in one corner, and my mind thinks of our kiss. I wonder, if he were to kiss me again, would I freeze like before, or would I kiss him back? Could I initiate the kiss? No! You can’t kiss a vision. Can you? I did flick his nose though. “Hmmmmm…”