She'll Take It (16 page)

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Authors: Mary Carter

BOOK: She'll Take It
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Chapter 16
T
his is how I die. On a porch in a rocking chair on a crisp autumn day. The sun is hovering low in the sky, leaking red and orange spikes into the horizon. The scent of baking bread wraps around me like a warm blanket. My arms stretch, become wings, and suddenly I'm flying above the earth, touring the mountains and oceans at heavenly speed. I can go wherever I wish. Look, down there, a café in Paris. The warm, turquoise waters of Greece. A roof terrace in Italy, that's me with the flowing white dress and glass of Merlot. I'm dancing. I twirl in midflight, my bird body twisting horizontally like egg beaters held straight out.
I think of those I loved and am leaving behind, broken hearted. I imagine my mother crying into her Connecticut chili, the contest only a week away. Her tears mix with the jalapeños leaving a salty reminder that her only daughter is dead. My father gives me a funeral at sea from his boat,
Second Chance
. The twenty-one-year-old he's screwing has tears in her eyes. Could be for me, could be from the wind. My brother Zach writes my eulogy in his SUV while Corinne drives them to the American History Museum. (For children must not play for the sake of fun alone, good God, they must be immersed with educational activities or they'll be directionless underachievers like poor dead Aunt Melanie.)
Last, I picture Ray learning of my demise, and I want it to kill him. He falls to his knees, shakes with grief, and howls with regret. His body trembles so violently it causes the floor to shake like an earthquake. Neatly stacked porcelain dishes fall from the shelves and crash into a million shattered pieces next to Ray. He's gazing at a picture he took of me in Central Park where my lips are soft and the lens is his love. Groaning, he rolls on the floor, and the shattered glass cuts a million tiny marks into his skin. He kisses my picture, begs me for forgiveness, and dies from regret as the blood slowly drains out of his luscious, muscular body.
I don't care about global warming. I don't care that I lose more little black socks per year than middle-age men lose hair. I don't care that my thighs have cellulite. I don't care that my bank account has more stretch marks than the Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. I don't care because there is no space left in my head for anything but joy. Joy, joy, joy! Tonight is the night we go to Ray's show.
But first I have to find something to wear. Kim and Tommy are going directly from a fashion show so I'm on my own. I spend the next hour trying on everything in Kim's closet. I finally settle on a low-cut green leotard that Ray loves. He says it makes me look like a cat about to pounce. I wear my tightest pair of black jeans and long black boots, carefully apply my makeup and tease my hair into a semi-curled state. Then I throw on my leather jacket, add a soft beaded choker around my neck, and dab vanilla oil on my neck, wrists, and cleavage. Men love women who smell like baked goods.
There's already a small line of people at the Cave. The bouncer, perched on a wooden stool at the door, is about two hundred and fifty pounds and looks like he hasn't shaved in a decade. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a black bandanna wrapped around his huge head. He's not smiling. I was hoping I would run into one of the band members out here so I could sneak in without paying. Just as I'm contemplating picking someone's pocket, Kim and Tommy show up looking fucking gorgeous. The bouncer straightens up his huge frame, touches his bandanna nervously and waves at us. “Evening,” he says grinning at Kim. “Come on up.”
We push past the rest of the pissed-off crowd and arrive at the door. Kim puts her hand on the bouncer's shoulder and purrs. “We're with Suicide Train,” she says to him in a soft voice. The bouncer's nostrils flare and either he is pulsing his biceps or his tattoos have learned to jump up and down on their own. He opens his mouth in a large grin, giving us a glimpse of his gold fillings.
“By all means,” he says, waving us in without the cover.
“Thank you,” Kim gushes. I grab her arm and yank her inside. We have an hour to get drunk and somehow make Kim look like shit.
“Why are we doing this again?” Kim says a few minutes later. The three of us are standing in a dimly lit unisex bathroom. Tommy is more than willing to help me dress down Kim, but we haven't quite convinced her. She's playing with the rubber band and thick black glasses I have just handed her. “I said, why are we doing this again?” she whines.
“Metrosexual,” Tommy says.
I glare at him. “Because I can't have you meeting the band like you look now,” I say, wiping off her lipstick with toilet paper. “I just can't. You're too pretty.”
Kim sighs and puts on the glasses while I tie her hair back. “Better?” she asks.
I button the top few buttons of her blouse. “We're getting there,” I say.
We sit toward the back, which is Kim's idea. “You don't want to seem eager or clingy,” she says.
“But what if he doesn't see me at all?” I protest. “It's dark in here. Shouldn't we move a tad closer?”
Like the first fucking row?
“Believe me, they'll see you,” she says. “You're with us, remember?”
Kim and Tommy chat away while I try to breathe and look sexy. Tommy is complaining about his boyfriend, Rob. “He's suddenly into colored condoms,” he says, stirring his rum and coke.
“What's wrong with that?” I ask, wringing my hands and willing the opening band off stage. I can't wait to see Ray!
“Depends on the color,” Tommy says. “Green, okay. It says ‘go.' It says horny. Black, wonderful. The black stallion. But
red
? It says Santa. It says stop. It's just wrong.”
“Little Red Riding Hood,” Kim giggles.
“Exactly,” Tommy says, sucking on his straw. Then his eyes bug out and he wiggles his eyebrows at me. But I'm so intent on watching the opening band leave the stage that I don't see him coming. As I'm draining my second White Russian, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Melanie?” he says. Keep it cool, keep it cool, keep it cool.
“Ray. Hi there.” I look into his eyes and melt.
“Well ‘hi there' yourself. This is great.” This is great. He sounds like he really, really means it. Then Ray turns to Kim. “Hi Kim,” he says. “You look different.”
But he doesn't mean ‘different' in a bad way, ladies and gentlemen. In fact, I don't like the way he's looking at her one bit.
Please, please make her do something disgusting, I silently beg the
Saint of Unexpected Bodily Noises
. But no such luck. In fact, she holds out her hand to him and now they're practically holding hands.
Let go of her freaking hand.
Then Kim takes her free hands and removes the heavy black band. Her long blond hair cascades down like a waterfall of beauty.
“Wish I could stay,” Ray says to her. “But we have to warm up. You'll be here later?” he says, mesmerized by her hair. Kim takes off her glasses and sets them on the table. If he doesn't let go of her hand, I'm smashing it. On three. Uno, dos,—thank God, he let go. Or did she pull away?
“We'll be here,” I say, edging my hand close to his. He pats it. Kim kicks me under the table. She's giving me a look. “Uh, maybe we'll be here,” I add. “We're uh—playing it by ear.”
Ray winks at me. “I gotcha. I'll check with you on break then. Deal?” he says smiling.
I melt again. “Deal,” I say.
The minute he walks away, I tear into Kim. “Did he pull his hand away first or did you?” I demand.
“What?” she says, gazing in Ray's general direction.
“You two were practically holding hands,” I insist.
“You're exaggerating,” she says, playing with her hair.
I hand her the tie and the glasses. I look to Tommy for support. He picks them up and puts them back on her and then ties her hair back again, although he doesn't wrap it quite as tight as I would have and she still looks sexy. I notice the buttons on her blouse have mysteriously popped open too.
“Now tell me,” I grill. “Did it feel like he was trying to be polite, or did it feel like he was trying to hold your hand?”
“Melanie, get a grip,” Kim says. “You sound like a crazy person.”
Notice she didn't really answer the question, but I let it drop.
“So, what do you think?” I say when several minutes have gone by and she still hasn't said a word.
“I can see why you fell for him so hard,” she says.
My head snaps in her direction. She has a dreamy look on her face. “Don't tell me you're in love with him now,” I say. I know how insanely jealous I sound and I don't care. My worst fear has always been that Kim was the one who had been meant to fall in love with Ray and I had interceded with fate's grand plan.
“I just mean—he's really cute,” she says, avoiding my eyes.
“You think he's out of my league,” I say, reading her mind.
“She didn't say that,” Tommy says quickly.
I wait but she still doesn't look at me. “Fine, it's on the record. She didn't say it. I'm asking her. Kim, do you think he's out of my league?”
Kim shifts in her chair and looks at the air above my head. “Of course not,” she says.
“Really?” I beg.
“Melanie, you're a beautiful woman. You're funny—”
I stop her. Funny is not what you want to hear when the man you're in love with is as beautiful as Ray. “I'm funny?” I say disgustedly.
“And smart,” Kim continues. “I mean you could use a little more self-confidence, but other than that you're great.”
I finish my third drink in a single swallow.
“What about beautiful? Am I beautiful?” I demand.
She puts her hands on mine and smiles. “You're very attractive,” she says.
“Very attractive,” Tommy echoes.
Very attractive? Bloody word dodgers, I think to myself.
“I think I'm going to need help,” I admit at last.
“Then that's what you're going to get,” she says.
Kim's plan is simple. All I have to do is dance with as many good-looking men as I can while the man of my dreams stands feet away watching. Piece of cake. Except nobody wants to dance with me, they want to dance with Kim. My plan to dull her up isn't fooling anyone. In fact it is backfiring—igniting the Librarian Turns Into Raving Slut fantasy most men harbor.
“You should have brought Charles. He's supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?”
“Doesn't matter,” Kim whispers back when I whine this to her during our third dance. Once again, she has the good-looking partner and I have the leftover. “It's working anyway. Don't you dare look, but I swear Ray hasn't taken his eyes off you.”
This makes me so happy that I actually smile at the pale, hairy-armed man I am dancing with. He takes it as an invitation to move in closer and puts his hand on the small of my back. Just as his hairy knuckles inch toward my ass, the song ends so I don't have to stomp on his foot with my boot after all. I drag Kim away from her leech and steer us to the bar. It is just the two of us now since Tommy has left us for a hipper, metrosexual bar in Chelsea.
“Tell me everything. Was he really looking at me? Really, really?”
“I swear, Mel,” Kim yells across the music. “He's watching you like a hawk. This is going to be easier than I thought.”
I squeal. “You are the best friend ever,” I say. My tongue is starting to feel heavy. I can't remember being happier than this ever. “I love him, Kim. I really, really love him.”
“I know you do,” Kim says. “That's why we're leaving.”
I didn't think anything could sober me up, but that sure did. What does she mean,
we're leaving
? I wasn't going anywhere. Really, she'd have to kill me and drag me out of here by my hair. I am drunk, happy, and minutes away from sucking face with the love of my life. “No way,” I say. “Go if you'd like, but I'm staying.” She tries to argue with me but the band is on break and I am already making my way toward him. It's crowded and I'm forced to push giggling girls and drunks out of the way so I can get a clear view of Ray.
I notice with some irritation that he seems to be singing to a gaggle of girls to my left. They're playing one of my favorites, “Only For You.” Ray had helped write the song and he sang the lead on it. So of course it's normal that a ton of women are drooling on him—he's gorgeous and he has an amazing voice. But it doesn't mean anything. It's a show. It's like if I were in a play and my character had to kiss another guy or have stage sex with another guy. It's an act. If only he weren't so good at it. He finally catches my eye during the second refrain, and one smile from him is enough to melt me. I smile back. He plays his heart out and, like that, my world is back in balance. Ray is mine. I dance.

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