Nicholas
“This is Misty,” Terry says as he introduces me to the blonde who appears as if at any second she’s about to lose her tits out of her tight white top. I’m sure it was meant more for a child than a woman with a chest as large as hers. The skirt she has on isn’t any better. I don’t think she even has to bend over for her ass to hang out.
“And this is Danielle.” I turn to my left and see a brunette with a nice smile. “She is Misty’s roommate."
“Nice to meet you,” I say as I hold out my hand in greeting.
“You too.” My hand freezes mid-air and I blink a time or two, trying my very best not to seem affected by her high-pitched squeal of a voice, but it’s impossible. It was like she’d been sucking helium from balloons for the last few hours. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I look over at Terry, and he smiles wide at me. The fucker is proud of what he’s done, and I want to kill him. Even the death glare I’m now shooting his direction does nothing to affect his happy mood.
The music is loud in the bar, and I’m instantly grateful because it helps drown out Danielle’s voice. I swear, my ears feel like they are bleeding.
I sit in the corner at a small table. All four of us face the stage as the band continues to play and I pull out my phone, holding it tight in my hands. I’ve been fighting the urge to call or text Emerson all day. I know she’s been spending time with whatever the fucking asshole in the suit’s name was, and I’ll admit I don’t like it. It’s been eating away at me because somehow in my mind I’ve let myself actually believe that she’s mine. Only she isn’t, but it sure doesn’t stop the jealous rage within me. Each time I picture her with another man I want to go to her and reclaim her, showing her again and again that there is something between us. I feel it each time I touch her, and I know she feels it too.
Nic: What are you up too?
I tap out the message, and my finger hovers over the send button a few seconds as I wonder if I should. Maybe I see more into this than what is indeed there. What the hell, I think to myself before I hit the button.
I half expect it to be hours before a response comes back, but am pleasantly surprised when a reply comes within seconds after I sent the message.
Emerson: I’m stuck at a theater watching a play, about to fall asleep from boredom. You?
Nic: At a bar with music so loud it’s giving me a headache.
Emerson: Poor baby.
Nic: It’s better than the helium queen at my side, her voice is worse than nails on a chalkboard.
There’s a longer pause this time before she responds back. I imagine her sitting there at her boring play next to the stuffy suit growing jealous of the idea that I’m on a date.
Emerson: On a date huh?
My grin grows wider as my thoughts are confirmed. It does bother her, which means she does feel something.
Nic: Same as you, though this is my first since I met you. What is this your third, fourth maybe?
Emerson: He’s a colleague and in town for business.
Nic: I think we both know you’re stretching the truth there just a bit, but I won’t push. I’ll be happy that you’re texting me during your date. Means things can’t be going that well, and call me an ass, but that makes me happy.
Another delay follows, and the waitress arrives at our table with our next round of drinks.
“Thank you so much,” Danielle squeaks, and I grip my beer bottle tighter as I try not to flinch. “Tonight is so fun. I’ve never heard this band before.”
In my mind, I am killing Terry over and over for dragging me into this fucking mess. I offer her a simple nod because I don’t want to take the chance that a response would trigger her to talk even more.
Emerson: Truth? I guess I’m happy that your date is dull enough that you find the time to text me too.
Reading over Emerson’s last text message calms my need to hurt Terry just a little bit as I’m able to get lost once again.
Nic: She’s not you, and since you are the only woman I seem to think about lately, that poses a problem.
I never do this shit, this flirtatious teasing with a woman, especially by phone. But with Emerson, it feels natural—that rush of excitement you get when things are new.
Emerson: I think it’s unfair how you’ve managed to consume my thoughts too. Now every man I meet, I compare them to you.
Nic: Why is that so bad?
Emerson: Because none of them have a chance.
It’s my turn to hold back, but not because I don’t know what to say. Fuck, I can think of a million things I want to say; the problem is my hands are shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me.
Nic: I have one question.
Emerson: And what’s that?
Nic: Why are the two of us on dates with other people, when we’d much rather be with one another?
I fucking hate when she pauses. It makes my stomach tighten with an uneasy feeling. My leg bounces nervously, and the woman at my side assumes I am moving to the beat. She leans in closer and starts talking about how great the band is and all I can think about is Emerson and why in the fuck it was taking so long for her to respond.
Emerson: I’m not sure.
That’s it? That’s all she gives me. My mind races with ideas, things I should type back, but instead, I put my phone back in my pocket and stare ahead at the band.
I try to ignore the way Danielle’s voice grates on my nerves. It isn’t her fault that the only thing I see when I close my eyes is Emerson. It’s unfair because I’m more than sure that had I not met Emerson only a week or so ago, I could have had a nice time with Danielle, despite her voice.
“Look who showed up,” Terry announces loudly, and when I open my eyes, I see Spencer moving through the crowd toward our table. Close behind him is Gianna, his new found shadow. They are always together it seems, and frankly I’m envious of him. “Two hours too late, Bozo.”
Spencer flips off Terry as he slips in at my side and pulls Gia in close, caging her against the tall table where we are sitting. “Who’s the girl?” he asks as he looks to my other side. I see Gianna do the same and Danielle picks that moment to speak.
“Hi, I’m Danielle, or Dani, whichever.” Spencer's eyes widen and Gianna flinches in reaction to her voice.
“Don’t ask,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, “just don’t ask.”
“Terry?”
“I’m gonna kill him later,” I assure Spencer and he chuckles.
“You should’ve called Emerson,” Spencer says, and I look toward Gia instead of him. They’re best friends and I half expect her to be glaring at us or at least looking up toward us curiously only she isn’t. Instead, she’s smiling brightly and nodding her head in agreement.
“I told her the same thing earlier today,” Gianna says smiling wide.
“I texted her,” I tell them both as I lift my beer bottle to my lips. “She’s on a date.”
Looking back toward the stage I concentrate on the music and ignore the lingering stares I notice in my peripheral vision from the both of them.
“It’s more of a set up than an actual date,” Gianna finally says, regaining my attention. “Without giving too many details away, just know that it’s not what she wants.”
“What does she want then?”
“You need to ask her that,” she shrugs. “And when she tells you that she doesn’t know or when she tries to make excuses for her father and his actions, you need to push back. Because I can promise you that Emerson doesn’t want a tight ass executive, she wants excitement and thrill. She’s just afraid of the consequences.”
I’m even more confused than I was only moments ago.
“She’s not who she seems to be.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I turn in my chair to face her, my back now to the woman behind me. “Gianna,” I say as I lean in closer, “what do you mean?”
“You need to get to know her and not just her body.”
I stare at her as she, in turn, does the same to me. I want to ask more, though I’m unsure if she’ll answer.
“She’s nothing like her father, yet he pushes and pushes for her to be. She’s caught between him and the life she wants, and he finds ways to drag her down more and more each day.” I feel my jaw tense as I scowl at no one in particular. “That’s all I can tell you Nic. You need to decide if she’s someone you truly want to know or if she’s just the one for a little fun. Don’t play with her head, because she gets enough of that from her dad.”
* * *
I wake up on Saturday with a headache from hell. I’m talking jackhammer between my eyes and vice grip on my temples.
After I left the bar and Danielle behind, I came home. I spent the evening going over the things Gianna said, trying to drown out my irritation with Mr. Mansfield with a bottle of Jack. Now here I am feeling no better about the situation and a headache to add to it.
I grab for my phone and pull up my messages from last night, those I sent back and forth with Emerson, and even the way it was all left. Then I start going over again what little information Gianna shared with me.
I’ve never been more confused about a woman in my life. I dial Spencer’s number and on the third ring, he answers, his voice hoarse, indicating I woke him up. “What the hell, asshole? It’s barely after eight a.m.”
“Give the phone to Gianna.” I ignore his irritation.
“What?”
“I know she’s lying next to you because the two of you have been up each other’s ass every night since you met.” That was no exaggeration. “So just give her the phone.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, “but just so we’re clear she has not been up my ass.” It doesn’t escape my mind how he leaves the other part out, but I don’t need a clarification. The man was easy to read.
Suddenly I’m now listening to an even crankier person as Gia snaps with a “What?” of her own.
Only I don’t give a shit as I move on. “So I understand that you don’t want to tell me any more about Emerson and that I should talk to her.” I ignore her groan of annoyance. “But tell me one thing.”
“Are you gonna hurt her?” I stop pacing and come to a halt near the end of my couch. My hand is cupping the back of my neck, as I seriously consider her question.
“No,” I say with a knowing grin, “I have no intentions of hurting her.”
“Then what do you wanna know?” She seems a little less irritated than before.
I finally relax, taking a seat on my couch. “Tell me what my way in is. How do I make her see that we’re good together?”
“You’ve already gotten your way in, Nic,” she assures me. “She may appear like the girl that loves all the fancy restaurants and shows, but I can assure you, she’d much rather have a burger and a beer. It’s just that all the guys she’s dated have been clones of her father and they force her to be that person. You want to make an impression, if you truly want to stand out, then just be you. Don’t go over the top with trying to impress her doing things you normally wouldn’t. She’s simple. She loves the simple things. She doesn’t get to enjoy them as she should.”
“Thanks,” I say. Without saying too much, she’s given me all I need to know. “I promise I’ll be good to her."
“You better,” she says sternly, “because I can guarantee if you’re not, then you better be ready for the backlash, Nic. Detective or not, I will kill you if you hurt her.”
She ends the call, leaving me with a smile on my face.