“Life isn’t about right or wrong, but learning to live with your choices.” ~Johnny Outlaw
The fallout from the convention has died down in the media. Photos were sold to tabloids, making me relive that day for weeks after. The ‘Lime Lady and the Rock Star’ makes for interesting press, I guess. I don’t see the appeal, but they’ve finally moved on just like Dalton has. The public’s idol is now being tied to every single socialite, starlet, and groupie. The photos showing up online and in the rags at the supermarket don’t look incriminating, but the headlines say otherwise. I know how the media twists the truth to fit the story they want to tell.
Or maybe I just don’t want to believe that Dalton and I are done for good.
Tracy has the week off to entertain family from out of state and to wrap up wedding details. I’m getting at least five calls a day from the nervous bride and two from vendors, not counting my business calls. So when Danny stops by with beers, I welcome him with open arms, needing the break. I turn off my phone to block out my obligations, kick my feet up on my coffee table, and tip back the bottle. The beer is more refreshing than it should be. “Ahhhh,” I moan, closing my eyes as I lean my head back on the couch. “I needed this.”
“You look tired.”
Lifting my head up, I give him the evil eye. “Gee, thanks, neighbor.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, laughing. “But the way you’re laying there, looks like you might fall asleep on me.”
“I just might. I don’t sleep well, haven’t in a while.”
He’s about to say something, but he turns back to the TV, watching the quiz show, and takes a drink instead.
“Go on,” I say, “get it off your chest.”
“What?”
He’s playing dumb. “Nice try. Let’s just talk about it, so we don’t have to talk about it again tonight.”
“Still no word?”
“Nope,” I emphasize the word.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
With his foot, he pushes my legs off the table, making me fall on my side. “Dude,” I complain, holding my beer in the air so it doesn’t spill. “What’s that about?”
“You. Look at you in your sweats and baggy tee, holey socks, and your hair…” he says, moving his hand above his head all crazy, “… like that. You need to snap out of this funk. You need to get out of your house and get a change of scenery.” He stands and pulls me up by my arm. “C’mon, I’m taking you out. If I remember correctly, I owe you some drinks.”
Offended, I put my hand on my hip, and say, “First of all, these are yoga pants, not sweats. You’re a model. You should know these things. Secondly, this,” I say, swirling my hand above my hair, “is the latest in working-from-home-hairstyles. All the coolest entrepreneurs are sporting this look, don’t ya know.”
“Yoga instructors, maybe, but not people who have to leave the house on a regular basis.”
“But I don’t have to leave the house much.”
He taps me on the nose, twice. “That, my friend, is why I’m getting you out of here.”
“Did you just boop me?”
“What’s a boop?”
I tap him on the nose and say, “Boop.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Well, in that case, I did just boop you and I’m gonna do it again. Hold still.” He boops me again, then says, “Now go change, slacky. I want you lookin’ hot.”
I want to argue, but I also want to show him how good I can look. I go with the latter. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. I shower quickly, and get dressed, pulling on tight, white jeans and a purple tank top that flows over my curves, ending at the top of my hips. I slip on my brown wedges and do my makeup and hair, deciding to let my hair hang free with my natural waves showing.
When I come back downstairs, Danny’s standing there with the beer to his mouth, but he stops, and slowly lowers it. “Shit. I was just planning on grabbing drinks down the street. But with you looking like that… I might want to show you off.”
“Very funny,” I say, getting my purse from the bar. “I see you changed clothes.” I walk past him and flick his arm. “Not too shabs yourself. C’mon, let’s go.” Grabbing a jacket on our way out, we head to the street where his Jeep is parked. “No top today?”
“Do you want the top on?”
“Look, I know I’m not an ‘Official’ date, but I’d still like to arrive wherever we’re going without the crazy hair,” I say, pointing at my head.
“Good point. I’ll put the top on.”
I stand on the sidewalk, tapping my foot impatiently. I actually don’t mind the top being down, but I like giving him a hard time like he does me. I also could have offered to drive my car, but when he steps up on the running board and stretches to snap the vinyl in place, I appreciate the view. Then he reaches across the roll bar and his shirt rides up. Since his jeans hang low, his abs are exposed. My gaze follows up and over each muscle that’s well defined and keeps him modeling. No one works that hard if you don’t want to show it off, and getting paid is a bonus. I have a feeling he’s very good at his job.
He claps his hands, proud of himself, and says, “Doors and all, fancypants. Now get in. I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“That didn’t take much.”
He rubs his belly, unknowingly teasing me with another hint of skin. “I’m a growing boy.”
… And my mind goes to the gutter.
I slide into my seat, staying close to the flimsy canvas door and holding tight to the seatbelt after buckling up. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. I remind myself.
The hostess takes us to a table for two against the far wall. Looking over the wine menu, I decide on a pinot noir. After we order, I ask, “I’ve seen this place before, but I’ve never been here. Do you come here often?”
“It’s my favorite Italian restaurant. I like that it’s a mom and pop shop, everything is homemade.”
As much as I don’t want to, when I look at the man sitting across from me, my mind flashes to Dalton and I wish it was him. I grab a long, skinny breadstick and start munching, hoping to distract myself, but the candle on the table, the dim lights above, and the Italian music sets the scene for a romantic date. It’s hard not to get caught up in it. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. I remind myself… again. “How’s the photography?”
The waiter brings our drinks and takes our dinner orders. As soon as he leaves, Danny says, “It’s going good. I’ve got a shoot in Cabo next week. I had a model drop out last minute. You want to fill in?”
I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
By his expression alone, the serious face, I can tell he’s not. “Not kidding at all.”
I take a big gulp of wine, then shake my head. I start to give him thirty reasons I’m not model material, a list that’s like a daily running tally. “I’m not that tall and I have flaws that I refuse to speak of on the back of my legs. I pretend it’s not there, but I know it is. It taunts me. And then—”
“You’re very beautiful, Holli. I know you can rock a bikini and there are no flaws. Trust me, I’ve looked.”
Always the charmer. “Why are you still single, Danny?”
“Because I want to be.”
I tilt my head and glare. “For real.”
“The truth is that the girl I like is currently unavailable.”
“Interesting.”
“Tragic really.”
His gaze lays heavy on me and I feel my cheeks heat. I look down, spinning the glass by the stem and watch as the wine rolls up the sides like a wave before sliding back down. When I look back up, I say, “You’re such a flirt.” I laugh to break the building tension, but fortunately our plates arrive doing a better job of it.
As he speaks with the waiter, I take the chance to look at him, really look at him.
He’s handsome, like worthy of a fifty-foot billboard on Sunset handsome. He keeps saying he’s not interested in modeling anymore, but the modeling industry isn’t ready to let him go just yet. The dimples that reveal his charm, even before he opens his mouth, are there when he looks at me and the plate of spaghetti I ordered. “That looks good,” he says.
Holding eye contact, I reply, “Yeah, very good.”
With a knife and fork in hand, he narrows his eyes and points at my food. “We still talking about food? You seem distant.”
“Food. Right. Yeah.”
“Food. Right. Yeah,” he teases. “Seriously, what’s going on with the caveman speak?”
“Nothing, just—” A phone from the next table rings, interrupting me. The ringtone is The Resistance. Hearing the song breaks my heart all over again.
“Will you excuse me?” I toss my napkin on the table and walk away before he has a chance to respond. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. Dalton. Dalton. Dalton. Damn him!
I push open the door to the women’s restroom and hurry to the sink. With my hands flat on the counter, I lean forward, so close to the mirror that my nose almost touches. I’m not drunk, and I don’t know what other signs I’m looking for in my reflection, but I can’t find anything different. My eyes are hazel, my hair is sandy-blonde, Dalton doesn’t love me anymore, and I’ve got what appears to be a new wrinkle on the outside of my right eye.
Jerking my head back, I stand upright convinced that no one should ever have to look at themselves that close up. But the reality is—I have a few wrinkles, plain brown eyes and dirty blonde hair on a bad day. On a good day, I had Dalton.
I don’t have good days anymore.
But I deserve them, so I walk back and sit down across from Danny. “How’s your food?”
He takes a sip of his wine, and says, “Really good. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I look up and see his concern. “Really. I’m fine and I’m having a good time.”
“Good. I aim to please.”
“I just bet you do.” I punctuate with a wink.
“There she is,” he says, raising his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, the sarcastic and clever girl I’ve gotten to know is back.”
I pull his arm down. “Okay. Okay. I got the message. I’m here. You got me—body and mind, fully present on ole Danny boy.”
“I don’t know about the ‘Ole Danny boy’ part, but I like the idea of your body on me.”
I roll my eyes for what feels like the tenth time tonight and laugh. “Don’t forget my mind—”
“Oh, don’t worry. Your mind is one of the things… You know, we should save that conversation for another time, after many alcoholic beverages.”
“Okay.”
We’re definitely going to have to catch a cab home tonight. Danny’s just handed me my third shot of tequila and neither of us is in any condition to drive. I don’t even know where we are. It’s a bar, near the restaurant, but other than that, nada.
The music is loud and the bar packed for a Wednesday. For a few brief moments, the pain I’ve felt over the loss of Dalton in the last month is replaced… almost. But I’ll take it, because it feels good to feel ‘almost’ normal again.
With a big, cocky grin on his face, and the crowd chanting my name, it’s my turn to do a body shot—off of Danny. He pulls his shirt over his head and the women in the bar go nuts, calling his name and whistling. Deep down, I’m confused because I’m starting to feel territorial over him. He’s with me… at least for the night.
His shirt hits me in the face, but I’m too drunk to care. I tie it around my neck and step forward as he starts to lie down on top of the bar. He turns my way and says, “Photographic evidence or it didn’t happen.”
“Yes, we definitely need a picture to cringe over tomorrow when we feel like shit and can’t remember anything that happened the night before.” I dig through my purse to find my phone.
Just as I pull it out, he adds, “Oh baby, I’ll remember every second of this.”
I shove a lime in his mouth to pipe him down, which makes him laugh, and hand the phone to a girl who is way too eager to take this picture. I notice it’s still off from when I needed peace from work and the wedding vendors earlier in the night. “Hold up. Let me turn it on.” I tell the girl to hit the camera icon when the screen loads up. “And tell me when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” she says. “Ready.”
At the last moment, I set the shot glass down on his stomach instead of pouring the liquid on him. Using my mouth, I tip it back, then drop the glass into my hands. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat, but Danny’s hand on the back of my arm is warm and comforting, encouraging me to take the lime, which typically ends in a kiss.
My text message alarm goes off, causing me to glance over my shoulder, distracting me from his lips… the lime, I mean. The girl hands the phone back to me and I catch a glimpse of Dalton’s name on the screen. Danny pulls me closer, and the boisterous chanting that surrounds me, reminds me of the lime waiting in his mouth. The text ring goes off again, and I look down at it, my heart thundering in my chest, a lump in my throat forming. Dalton. I can’t put this off. I’ve waited too long to hear from him. Touching Danny’s shoulder, I say, “I’m sorry. I need to check this.”
He sits up, the lime falling from his mouth. “Holli?”
But I’m already pushing my way out the door and walking to a secluded part of the sidewalk for privacy. I should be mad after all this time, but my heart hasn’t gotten the memo and I anxiously open the message.
Four texts. Four lines—lyrics, a poem, or his inner thoughts. I have no idea, but he sent them to me and now I cling to hope once more.
Love is a sparrow I hold in my hand
An angel believing me a better man
I’m finding my way back to her before she flies away
Hoping she can forgive when I come back to her one day.
“Holli?” Danny.
I wipe a tear from my cheek before he has a chance to see it. Turning toward him, I say, “I’m here.” He’s shirtless, and now I feel guilty for leaving him in there. I unwrap his shirt from around my neck and hand it to him.
“What happened?” he asks, taking the shirt. “Is everything okay?” He pulls it over his head.
“Yeah, yeah, no worries.” Play it off. Don’t let him see how Dalton affects you.
“Hey,” he says, bending his neck to look into my eyes. “I’m worried, okay? You’re crying. Was it the text? Or me?”
“No, it wasn’t you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. It was the text. I wasn’t expecting it. Just caught me off guard.”
“C’mon. Here’s your purse. I think we should call it a night.” I’d like to think I’m reading too much into his clipped tone, but when he turns and walks away from me, I know he’s hurt or mad or both.
In the cab, I offer, “I can bring you back to pick up your Jeep in the morning.”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“Really. No trouble at all.”
“I have to go for a run in the morning anyway. I’ll just come this way and get it.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” We sit in silence for another minute, staring out our own windows when he says, “It was Johnny, right? The text. It was from him?”
When I look over, his expression is neutral, almost like he saw this coming. I won’t lie to him though. He’s too good to be lied to. “Yes.”
“Just like that? It’s a done deal?”
“Right now…” I talk in metaphors to keep things nice, uncomplicated, but it’s already complicated, and the truth for him, not so nice. “I’m not open to any other possibility.”
“Currently unavailable,” he repeats from earlier in the night.
Currently unavailable. The plain truth.
The cab pulls up out front and I give the driver money just as Danny does. We decide to split the fare. As we walk up the first steps, we don’t talk, but when we reach the landing, we stop. He says, “This doesn’t have to be awkward. We’re neighbors. We’re friends.”
“That’s all,” we say at the same time. Neither of us laughs at the coincidence.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, “and well, the whole night. Danny, I had fun and I loved it, but mostly, I needed it. I needed a friend. So thank you.” I take a step forward and open my arms.
He comes closer, and embraces me. It’s tight and filled with sincerity. “Thank you… friend.” The last word seems a struggle to say, but he releases me with a smile and walks to his door. With his key in hand, I walk to mine and we open our doors at the same time.
“Goodnight, Danny.”
“Holli?”
“Yes?”
“You say you have these flaws, but I want you to know that for every flaw you think you have, I can name three things that make you perfect to me.”
I gulp, then my voice cracks with emotion when I whisper, “Thank you.” We both go inside and I lock my door behind me. Grabbing the empty beer bottles from the coffee table, I head into the kitchen and throw them in the recycling bin. I get a glass of water and an Ibuprofen and head upstairs for bed.
After turning out the lights, I climb under the covers and lay in the dark. I read the texts at least ten more times before holding the phone to my chest and falling asleep.