Winter In August (4 page)

That’s when everything changed.

After basic training, his unit was sent to the Middle East. We were in the middle of a war, and he had to go. During the first month in Afghanistan, his group was riding in a tanker and ran over a roadside bomb. All six were killed instantly. His dad gave me his dog tags at Kris’s memorial service, and I had worn them on rough days for the last five years. Days when I couldn’t get out of bed, or face anything, knowing these simple dog tags were on him when he took his last breath comforted me.

My whole world and everything I knew died the afternoon I was told he was dead as I stood in my apartment helpless and alone. I didn’t go back to college, and after that day, I was not the same. I fell into a deep depression consuming me and taking me to a darkness I had not experienced before. Even when my mom left and I fell apart, I’ve never experienced such oppressive sorrow.

I was devastated over Kris’s death. I stayed in the apartment, quit my job, didn’t pay bills, and didn’t eat. My dad tried everything he could to get me better, but he was facing his own demons. Not only did I lose my mom, but my dad started drinking when she left and didn’t stop the entire time I lived with him.

Because of my best friend Harper, I was able to pull myself together and moved to New York City with her. Harper found me one evening, almost unconscious from a combination of not eating, dehydration, and intoxication. I was admitted to the psych ward. I had no idea where I was when I woke up the first night. I was incoherent as if my mind shut down so I wouldn’t go insane. The doctors determined I needed extra help to deal with anxiety and depression tormenting me for years. Since I never dealt with my mom abandoning me, Kris’s death had triggered a breakdown and sent me spiraling out of control.

After I was released from the hospital, Harper went to my dad and begged him to let me come back to New York City with her while she did her internship. Reluctantly, my dad knew letting me go was the best for me. He paid my bills and gave me money to get started. I moved into Harper’s dad’s Brownstone with her as I tried to restart my life. Though the pain of losing two of the people closest to me gnawed at my soul, I was able to make a new start.

I became licensed as a certified hair stylist in thirteen months. I’d been doing that for the past four years with hopes of owning my own shop in Chelsea, or Soho one day. For now, I was lucky to be at Gino’s. I was proud to say I worked at the salon frequented by celebrities and Manhattans richest. I was living the single life in New York and drowning my sorrows in going out and drinking. I hadn’t been in any long term relationship since Kris’s death and decided I wouldn’t again. I couldn’t go through the pain of losing someone else. Instead, I enjoyed a man for sex and that was enough. Once or twice with a guy and I was ready to move on. I couldn’t let myself fall in love with anyone. Love hurt. Love never lasted and I was beginning to believe love wasn’t real.

* * * * *

The week after Harper left, I decided I was going to go out alone one Saturday and challenge myself not to sleep with a random guy. I wanted to prove I could go out and not be tempted by a stranger and end up in his bed. I had tried that concept before and succeeded once, twice if you didn’t count a hand job to a hot New York City fireman.

I picked out an outfit with little concern. I threw on ripped skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and I went into Harper’s closet and borrowed a pair of her black sky high Louboutins, she wore once. Harper didn’t care and encouraged me to borrow her clothes. Her salary was three times what I made, and she had more clothes than I could ever wear. The red bottoms offset the total black I was dressed in, and even though they were a size smaller, I squeezed my foot in. Hopefully, the pain would keep my mind off sex. I kept the makeup to a minimum, put on smoky eye shadow, and my signature wine lip stain. I straightened my long ebony hair and put it in a high ponytail. No sexing it up that night.

I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake. Did I want to put myself through this? Not really, but I had to. I grabbed my keys and cell phone and remembered to take my new Gucci bag I bought myself. As I headed out the front door with my new purse and a new lease on my life, my cell rang.

“Hey, what’s on the schedule tonight?” asked Sven.

“Not much. I’m heading to Avion.” The Avion was the new upcoming club and the talk among the young and wealthy in Manhattan. The younger clientele told me about the new nightclub, and I wanted to check the place out at least once. I figured this new upscale bar would be the perfect place to try out my challenge. What could one drink hurt?

“Wow, the Avion. Who’re going with?”

“Just me.”

“Is that safe?”

I sighed. “Yes, it’s safe.”

“Text if you need me. I don’t like you out by yourself.”

“What the hell, Sven. I won’t stay long, one drink. I want to prove something to myself. It’s a long story. Want to meet me?”

“I’ll call. I have an itch tonight, but Reggie’s acting strangely. Please be careful.” An itch was code for he wanted random sex with someone. And Reggie was always acting sick. Sven obsessed over his dog’s health. He took him to the doctors more than some take their children. Though Sven loved Tab and considered him his husband, he roamed and roamed a lot. Tab was either clueless or didn’t care because he loved the lifestyle the two of them had. Sven was sticking it to too many for whatever reason and I think it was a midlife crisis. He was pushing fifty and told me he couldn’t handle the fact he was now old.

“I will. Luvs you.”

“Luvs, honey.”

Walking out of the door at nine o’clock on a Saturday alone was not what I usually did. If I wasn’t with a bunch of friends, I preferred to stay in. This was a real first for me.

Everyone back home in Ohio, thought moving to New York City meant you were rich. I made good money, but I was far from rich in the city. If it wasn’t for Harper’s Brownstone, I would be renting a tiny walk up in a not so good of an area. Unlike what television portrayed, my daily life wasn’t filled with blacked out SUV’s, shopping at Neiman Marcus, and lunching with friends. My New York life was subways, cabs, and eating something I grabbed from a vendor. But, I loved it and every day amazed me. I couldn’t believe I lived in the greatest city in the world. Though I always longed for New York when I was a young girl, I never dreamed I would be living there one day. After five years of getting daily life down to a science, I still resembled a tourist when I walked around in awe. I loved everything the city offered and at times, I became lost in its magnificence. Every day something new would catch my eye, and I would be amazed. Every day was a new adventure and a new beginning.

After a couple of minutes waiting for an empty cab, I surprisingly hailed one and stood in front of
Avion
in no time. The music blared outside the closed door which proved inside would be extremely loud. The front had a simple old wooden sign showing its name with green awnings on the two small windows out front. I hesitated to walk in alone. I took a deep breath and opened the heavy wooden door.

Inside, I was surprised at the simplicity of a massive old apartment building, gutted and set up to be a club. I was greeted at the door by two men who asked where they could seat me. I told them the bar would be perfect. The first floor had a huge dance floor crowded with people dancing, sipping drinks, and grinding against each other. Neon lights cut through the darkness and flashed to the beat of the music. Young, twenty-somethings drinking and looking to fill their lonely nights with a person they probably wouldn’t see again, were everywhere. My eyes scanned the dimly lit bar and I noticed very hot men were at every turn. The Avion was the perfect place for my challenge.

“What can I get you, beautiful?” asked a gorgeous mystery man with dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and expensive designer clothes. He looked about my age, and I glanced at his hands. Perfect manicure which meant he worked inside, possibly Wall Street or a doctor. Of course, a guy this hot had to start me up within five minutes of walking in. I considered flirting with him, but I shook the thought out of my mind and remembered why I was there.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I’ll order my own. Thanks.”

“I insist.” I shrugged.

“If you insist, I’ll have a Jameson on ice,” I smiled at him and considered starting this challenge another night.

He smiled back at me and with a flick of his finger he called the bartender over. The drink was delivered, and when I went to thank the gorgeous stranger, he was on the dance floor with a blonde.

I sat in the darkened bar while I sipped my free whiskey and questioned my choice of bars and why the hell I was there. When I was ready to head out, I spun around in my chair and was shocked at who sat behind me.

Chapter 5

T
he
blonde pilot sat against the brick wall staring at me. He smiled with a straw stuck out of his mouth, and a drink was in his hand. I looked away and glanced back at him and he winked. A searing rush of heat rose to my cheeks, and my first instinct was to crawl behind the bar or run. I was embarrassed from the other morning in Marco’s apartment and I had hoped to not run into him. Maybe he wouldn’t remember me?

Jesus Christ. Of all the places in New York City, he would have to pick this new place to be the exact time and night I was there. What were the odds? Wasn’t he in Bali or somewhere? If he was in the bar, there was a possibility Marco would be slithering out of a hole somewhere. Fucking hell. I needed to go home.

I turned my head and took out my cell phone. I texted Sven to look busy and find out if he was going to meet me.

What’s up? R U coming out?

Before Sven answered, I smelled his sinful cologne from the other day behind me. That damned cologne he wore was ingrained in my memory.

“Didn’t we recently meet?” he asked. His lips grazed my ear lightly, but enough I felt tingles in other places. The club was so loud with music and people talking around me I barely heard him.

“I don’t believe so, no.” I lied. He ignored my comment.

“Small world or you’re following me,” he said. I continued to sip my watered down whiskey and tried to pretend he wasn’t there. My head was saying ignore him, but my eyes couldn’t help themselves. He was totally gorgeous.

“Or, you’re following me.” I said.

Blondie was dressed differently than the time in Marco’s apartment. He had on ripped jeans similar to mine, a black t-shirt with holes showing a peek of skin, and a worn black leather jacket. I looked at his shoes and noticed he wore very expensive, but worn out biker boots the same color as his coat. His muscles looked better than they did the other morning, pulled and strained against his shirt. His appearance stirred something in me that didn’t need to be stirred, igniting an electric intensity around me by standing close. What the fuck? This type of man never did this to me. I adored the dark and mysterious with an edge of vulgarity. I went weak for the tough-talking, overly muscular, whiskey drinking bad boy and a beard was an added plus. To me, the badder the boy, the hotter the sex. This man was totally not him. Except for that scar above his eye. That had a story I wouldn’t mind hearing.

“Are you looking for Marco?” he smiled as his lips touched my ear. The heat of his breath and the familiar scent of whiskey sent an ache through me.

I turned around on my bar stool meeting his gaze head on. “Um, no. Please tell me he’s not here. Aren’t you supposed to be in the Bahamas or somewhere with him?” I cocked my head to the side which was my standard flirting tactic. I caught myself and stopped.

“It was Bali. He changed his mind which he does a lot. I can call him if you’d like.” He smiled a half smile.

“You’re a comedian too.” I said.

He laughed throwing his head back.

“I have the night off.” He raised his hand at the bartender, who practically sprinted over to him. I nodded in agreement and turned back around in my stool. Once again, he leaned into me.

“I’m leaving. Come with me and we can talk since we’re both out alone. This isn’t my usual scene. It’s so damn loud in here.”

Christ this man had me quaking in my Louboutins. Something about him oozed with dominance, and I wanted to surrender. I wouldn’t do it.

“I’m fine. I’m headed home myself. I wanted to check this place out. I was told the Avion was the place to be, but I now disagree.”

He looked at his watch and back at me. “The night is still young, Melinda.” I was surprised he remembered my name because I’d forgotten his. To boot, he remembered my fake name which was sort of funny in a way.

I narrowed my brow at him and gave him a stern glare. “I’m not looking to hook up with anyone tonight, so forget any ideas you may have with me. Just because I ended up in that vile human’s bed, doesn’t mean I’m heading to yours.” I swung my ponytail around almost hitting him in the face and turning my back to him.

He whispered in my ear.

“That’s the furthest thought from my mind, as delicious as you are. You’ll know when I want to take you home. It’s strange, though, you and I out on our own drinking in a bar. Are you out looking for a new client?”

Embarrassed at myself and intrigued by his sense of humor, I picked up my bag, stood, and decided one drink wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t want to go home already and spend the night in front of my television.