Seven Years of Bad Luck (9 page)

Saturday, May 18th, 2013. Day 221 since Aidan. Cheyenne and I decided to venture out of our comfy little apartment and take part in some bar hopping with the locals. We both agreed that it would be better to celebrate her birthday a day early since her actual birthday fell on a Sunday. We both primped and pampered ourselves before heading out on the town. Cheyenne looked hot in her curve hugging, champagne sequined mini dress and impeccable makeup. I had Cheyenne look through my wardrobe for something suitable for me to wear.

“Seriously, Kat! This is not even worthy of being called a wardrobe!” She waved her hand toward my closet door with an exasperated expression marring her pretty face.

“What? I don’t think it’s all that bad. Maybe a little outdated, and I might have far too many boring work clothes, but… you know… I just don’t shop much.” I shrugged my shoulders and huffed.

“Don’t shop much? By the looks of these clothes of yours, you don’t shop at all! We are so fixing this problem tomorrow. How do you expect to get a man with nothing decent to wear?” Cheyenne threw her hands up and held them there while she waited for whatever sad excuse I was attempting to formulate.

“I don’t need a man, Chey. I am all about going to get some new clothes, but not with the intention of reeling in some schmuck.”

“Okay, fine! Clothes, tomorrow! Now, shall we go raid my closet for something fantastic to put on you?” Her beaming white smile was the signal that the subject was dropped and we were on our way to happier topics.

“Let’s!” I cried with enthusiasm to please Cheyenne.

She ended up choosing an incredibly revealing little black mini dress. It was completely backless except for one wide black satin band that crossed over the top of my back, only concealing a vertebrate or two. The dress barely concealed my backside from prying eyes. The bottom of the dress rested high on my upper thighs and was hemmed with a wide black satin band which matched the same black satin band that held the dress across my upper back. It had tiny little cap sleeves and was a body contouring fit. It was purely scandalous and put me in serious danger of exposing my goods to a lucky onlooker or two. I made a mental note to not drink too much or drop anything on the floor.

Cheyenne looked very pleased when she shoved me in front of her full-length mirror. She had me wearing a great pair of long dangle earrings that reminded me of a disco ball the way they glittered. She also slid a cuff bracelet onto my wrist and demanded that I replace my simple diamond pendant necklace with the choker she had chosen for me. As for the shoes, she browbeat me into wearing a peep-toe, studded heel, leather, zip back pumps. The only feature on these shoes that I loved was the wide cuff that enclosed each ankle. They were obscenely high and uncomfortable of course but I had to admit they were very flattering. In short, my best friend dressed me up like a high-priced hooker, but I was glad to feel sexy for the night. Cheyenne completed my mini makeover by fixing my long auburn hair into a loose up-do, applying smoky eye makeup that she insisted suited my green eyes, my tinted lip gloss, and topped it all off with a spray of perfume.

We chose to go to a popular club as our second destination of the night. The first place we went to was too low key for Cheyenne’s taste so we gulped down our drinks and headed on to the next place. The second club was packed with people dancing and drinking. We went directly to the bar keeping up with tradition by quickly downing a lemon drop each then ordering our cocktails.

We sat at the bar and chatted each other up. I saw Cheyenne motion over my shoulder with her eyes, and reading my best friend, I gave a nod signaling my understanding. I waited a three-second count and then casually turned my body a bit to eavesdrop on the two ladies who stood at the bar beside us. That’s when things got interesting. I heard one of the ladies chatting not so quietly to her friend.

“I guess this place is just full of street walkers tonight.” Her friend giggled annoyingly at her snide comment, then followed up with one of her own.

“You see these two?” She motioned her head in our direction.

“I bet these two have slept with at least a half a dozen of the guys in here tonight.” They both laughed like school girls, and I could no longer control myself. In a clear voice I dove head long into a verbal spat with the two grown-ass teenagers.

And cue former self!

The old me peeped through my exterior for the second time in a very short period, and I was tickled with the development. I smiled broadly and let loose.

“Hey Chey, do you hear that? We’re street walkers?” She gave me a wink indicating that she was prepared to play along.

“Oh! See, I thought we were prostitutes. Is there a difference other than the job title?” I smiled wide when I saw the two women gaping at the show we were putting on.

“No, not really much difference, Chey. But listen, these two over here seem to think we are terrible street walkers. They only gave us credit for a half a dozen men in here!” I took a casual sip of my cocktail. Cheyenne was Oscar-worthy in her role playing mode.

“NO!” She mocked a look of being aghast. Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed into an O.

“We have banged at least thirty or forty of the penises walking around in this joint!” Her instigating joke only further pissed off the two.

“Exactly my thoughts, Chey.” We both turned and smiled cattily at the two ladies who stood beside us with a look of shock and anger on their snotty faces. I leaned toward them, lowered my voice, and threw out my next card.

“But don’t worry ladies; if you plan on picking up a guy here tonight, just give us a heads up as to who the unlucky bastards are; that way when they tries to walk away from you two for us, we will send him back your direction…
unfucked
.” Cheyenne now stood beside me shaking with laughter, and the two women were ready to combust. The one woman who apparently thought that her abundant frame could squeeze into a supermodel size zero decided to put her plump finger in my face.

“You two are skanks!” Things got even sketchier.

“I suggest you remove your hand from my face, or we are gonna have problems.” At that point Cheyenne stood slightly behind my outstretched left arm that held her back from pouncing on the bigger one.

“Fuck you, whore! You think you can just walk in here dressed like that, actin’ all fancy and talk like that to me?” She sent a fine mist of saliva flying out of her mouth when she spoke, and it made my blood boil.

“I dress how I please, and it is not any fault of mine that you two behave like high school freshmen out of jealousy that another woman can be attractive. God forbid, right? Now, put your fucking finger away!” My voice was teetering on becoming a shout. I still held Cheyenne back.

Suddenly, some drunken guy came barreling towards me from behind and crashed into both Cheyenne and me. We were both launched forward at the two women. They immediately started slapping, pulling, punching and scratching at us. We had not meant to start a fight, but with the help of the drunken man who sent us charging forward, we were indeed in a fight in a bar.

Brilliant, Kat! Check ‘bar brawl’ off the bucket list.

Out of nowhere a large, handsome man with dirty blonde hair and tattoos stepped into the scuffle and peeled all of us apart. Cheyenne was still trying to charge at the two women like a bull when the handsome stranger scooped her up by the waist and dragged her outside over his bulky shoulder. I followed willingly while the other two women hung back at the bar screaming obscenities at us. The police arrived, and all of us, including the handsome stranger, were toted off to the police station to sort out who did what. Luckily for us, when we were given an opportunity to make a phone call, I remembered shoving Ben’s scrap of paper with his phone number into my purse.

I guess I just might see Ben again after all.

If I were being truthful with myself, I didn’t mind seeing Ben again in the slightest. The whole disaster was a huge misunderstanding, and I was hoping that Ben would help make sure that we didn’t face any charges.

“Cheyenne, I have a friend who is a lawyer, I think I should call him.”

She looked at me astounded. “You have a friend?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. “Yes, Chey. I know it must be hard to believe, but yeah, I met this guy the other day. He gave me his number, and he happens to be a lawyer. I should call him. Don’t you think?”

“You met a guy the other day?”

I was getting impatient. “Oh my God Chey! Seriously? We are going to do this right now? Can we discuss this later? Can I call him to help us or not?” She smiled at me and nodded her head. The officer who was babysitting us allowed me to make the call. I dialed Ben’s number and I felt myself turn crimson. The phone rang twice and he picked up, much to my relief.

“Uh, Ben?”

“Kathleen?” I inhaled deeply and braced myself for the utter embarrassment that was to follow.

“Ah, yeah, this is Kat from the book store and from the airport.” He chuckled into the phone.

“How are you?”

“Uh, listen Ben, I’m alright I guess, but I’d be better if I was not sitting at the police station giving a statement and waiting to potentially be charged with a crime. Please say you know someone who can help us.”

“Us?”

“Um, yeah, me and my someone special, and some guy who accidentally got thrown into this whole mess.”

“I see.” I was beginning to worry when he didn’t say much. There was a long pause, then he finally spoke.

“Okay, let me see what I can do.”

“Oh, thank you Be—” He hung up before I could say anything more.

Oh God, please put me out of my misery already! So humiliating. I’m not a criminal. I swear I will never go to another club for as long as I live!

All three of us were cuffed and sitting in chairs in front of an officer’s desk when Ben himself arrived. He was speaking with the police while we waited. I had assumed that he would make some calls and send someone to help us, but he showed up instead.

Oh, this is rich! It just keeps getting better!

Cheyenne was less concerned about our predicament and just sat there smirking at me with her hands cuffed.

“So much for a great birthday Cheyenne. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have instigated those women.” She frowned at my apology.

“Are you kidding?! This is the most excellent birthday ever! I got some fancy new bracelets.” She leaned forward and jiggled her handcuffs and laughed. Ben approached us, and I immediately wanted to hide under the nearest rock… forever. He looked incredible and casual, of course, which made the blush on my cheeks deepen to the nth degree. He approached Cheyenne first.

“Hello. You must be Kathleen’s someone special.”

Maybe if I try to escape, the officer will shoot me and end this nightmare
.

“Yes, Ben. This is my best friend Cheyenne Reed. Cheyenne, this is Ben.” After introducing them, I realized I had no idea what Ben’s full name was, even though he knew not only my full name, but my address, too. I sat in my chair with my head down, only peeking up through my eyelashes to see him lay his hand on her bare shoulder, causing jealousy to rear its ugly head.

What the fuck is that? I have no reason to be jealous.

Cheyenne looked at me, puzzled, as an ‘oh my god he is gorgeous’ grin spread across her face. I simply smirked and gave her a slight nod confirming that I, too, thought he was beyond gorgeous with his wavy brown hair, golden skin, blue-green eyes, tall, muscular frame and to-die-for scent.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ben turned to the officer and demanded that the hand cuffs be removed from his clients immediately unless we were being charged and arrested and made it clear that none of us were drunk and didn’t pose a threat to ourselves or others. After a moment of arguing, the officer removed the cuffs. Once we were free to go, Cheyenne and I piled into Ben’s black Cadillac, and he drove across town to our apartment. The tattooed man had not uttered a word the entire time. He just walked out of the police station and didn’t look back. Cheyenne and I didn’t think too much of it. We dismissed his behavior as a bad attitude since we had accomplished dragging him into our mess, and he found himself cuffed at the police station. I watched him as he walked down the sidewalk and disappeared around a corner. I wondered who that man was and why was he so reluctant to speak. Ben seemed to know exactly where we lived, which caused Cheyenne to quirk a questioning eyebrow at me. I waved her off with my hand, and she once again smiled from ear to ear, exposing every pearly white tooth. Ben parked, and Cheyenne quickly gave her thanks and made a bee line for our apartment. Before I could stop her, she disappeared behind the doors. Ben slipped out of the driver’s seat and began walking towards the entrance with me in tow.

“You know where I live. How?”

“Your hospital bracelet gave me your full name. A person can find just about anything on the internet with a very little information to start. Like a full name.” He smiled down at me, and I half smiled back at him.

“Yes, I guess that is true. But that’s a tad creeper-ish, don’t you think, Ben?” He didn’t respond except for smirking at me while we stepped into the elevator. I had to admit that his lack of interest in me was very frustrating. I was incredibly attracted to him, but it seemed that the feeling was not mutual.

“What floor?”

“What? You mean you don’t already know that it’s the third floor?”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at me in response to my sarcastic question. When the elevator stopped, we both stepped out and began walking to my apartment door. He wrapped his strong hand around my wrist bringing both of us to a halt, and my heart began to speed.

“This dress looks beautiful on you. Your exposed back is breathtaking.” His voice was low and throaty, making my insides stir gloriously. A blistering blush scorched my cheeks.

Oh my! This man may be an arrogant ass and a book thief who subsequently returned said book, but geez he is great to look at.

I glanced down and ran my hands across the tiny bit of material that dared to be called a dress, smoothing invisible wrinkles. That dress couldn’t have a wrinkle if it wanted to, as tightly as it hugged my curves. “Oh, um, this isn’t even my dress. I don’t own anything like this. My clothes are boring, really. This is Cheyenne’s dress.” He eyed me closely and nodded his head.