I’ll be there.
NIK
Ineeded to get the hell out of here.
Old City was considered the “entertainment district” of downtown, but that mostly meant a shoddy-ass nightclub for college kids and a bunch of hipster restaurants. Sandwiched between an upscale Italian place and an Irish pub my pops lived in when I was a kid was Jonah Wright’s new farm-to-table restaurant, and it was bumpin’.
I came because of Duncan and Chance, and I still couldn’t find them in the mess of bodies, so I kept my ass at the bar, getting pushed by people, with the start of a headache stabbing in the back of my head from the DJ’s shoddily sampled remixes.
Which meant I had to listen to the bartender hit on every pair of legs that talked to him.
“The purpose of this area is to allow customers waiting for their reservations to have a place to pass the time,” the bartender said in a flirty tone to a woman as he pointed to black velvet curtain that served as the divider between the lounge and restaurant.
He continued to talk while he topped off a glittery drink with some kind of flower petal. The whole thing was only two ingredients and took four minutes too long to make. The woman was all about it, though, giving the guy drunken bedroom eyes as she took her first drink.
“Oh, give me a fucking break,” I muttered and knocked on the counter to get the guy’s attention. I shook my empty cup and said, “Hey, bro, can I borrow you a sec and get a refill of my Diet Coke?”
While I got my refill, I scanned the packed cocktail lounge. It was bougie without the snob and hip enough to bring in the college kids. The seating was slim, with only a handful of booths and tables against the banister of a set of basement stairs, where servers jogged up and down to snag supplies.
I’d been here an hour and almost everyone was either drunk or damn near to it. God, I hated Old City. No fancy-ass restaurant with a “cool” DJ and overpriced drinks could clear away what goes on in the alley nearby or the dark corners of the parking lot a block away.
All I had to do was say hi to Chance, Duncan, and Destiny, and then I could get the fuck outta here.
As if he could read my mind, Duncan squeezed between a new set of customers for the bartender to flirt with and said, “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”
“I told you where I was at, and I ain’t moved,” I said, tapping my foot along to the song playing and keeping my eye on the crowd for Destiny. With Duncan here, Chance wasn’t far away. Destiny, on the other hand, would be a scavenger hunt.
I had half a mind to just leave without saying anything to her, but I knew she’d come for my ass the next time she saw me.
“So, what do you think?” Duncan asked, bringing my attention back to him.
That I could be at home in bed right now instead of my ears bleeding.
“About the party or your fit?”
Duncan rested an elbow against the counter and gave a lazy shrug. “Either.”
I eyed Duncan’s dress shirt and jeans. I’d known Duncan for years and had never seen him come anywhere close to dressing up.
“Well, it’s certainly not boring.” I pinched the fabric of Duncan’s shirt. “I can’t believe Chance made you wear this.”
Duncan barked a laugh. “You’re giving him way too much credit. Destiny would kick my ass if I showed up with my usual look. Consider yourself lucky that you’ll get away with what you got on.”
“I thought I looked good.”
I glanced at my new white T-shirt, jeans, and Converses. I’d gone to the mall yesterday in a panic, worried that I would show up to this thing looking like some kind of trash goblin.
Duncan pointed at my head and said, “You do, but more casual than she lets me be. Actually, she’ll be in shock that you went back to your natural blond.”
I ran my fingers through my newly cut hair, the strands still soft from all the ridiculous product the hair stylist put in it. “Yeah, the days of me doin’ my own dye jobs are over, my guy. After my panic attack at how much I spent at the mall on all of this”—I stretched my arms out to the sides, waving a hand over my front—“I figured, fuck it, go big or go home.”
Duncan’s teasing smile fell a little. Internally I kicked myself in the ass at the joke and quickly changed the subject. “But really, Destiny loves me, and she loves making your life hell even more by making you dress up.”
It didn’t go unnoticed, but Duncan thankfully let it slide. I scratched at the scars of my once-abused veins in the ditch of my elbow—a tic I’d picked up when in my early days of recovery. I’d developed a list of them over the years, but this one refused to leave.
“Duncan!” Destiny said, her voice magically booming over the DJ. I didn’t know how that woman could do it, but it was badass, even if my ears weren’t very happy about it.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Duncan said under his breath.
I snorted a laugh, accepting a hug from Destiny.
“Ah, I’m glad you came,” she said, pulling back, and giving me a once-over. “Damn, boy, you clean up nice.”
Against Destiny, with her long dark hair, perfect makeup, and black cocktail dress, I looked busted. But her smile was sincere, and it made my face heat a little. “Thanks.”
Destiny turned to Duncan and pointed over his shoulder to the group she’d skipped away from. “I came to grab you because your husband needs his emotional support human.” She glanced at me over her shoulder and tilted her head to the other side of the room. “C’mon.”
Sensing that I was about to go into the worst social hellscape, I lifted the cup and said, “I’ma finish this and I’ll find you.”
Destiny looked like she was about to push, but Duncan nudged her in the side and gave a small shake of his head. She pointed at me and said something I couldn’t hear over the music as they disappeared into the crowd, and I turned toward the bar and found the line was a mess of bodies. People were giving toasts to shots, passing back drinks to their friends, laughing, and dancing.
And here I was, standing on the other side of it all, with my sad Diet Coke, sweating my ass off from all the body heat and desperately trying to figure out an exit plan.
From the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed every day, I tried to come up with a plan to separate myself from my recovery. I still couldn’t figure out a way to do it. I’d been clean for half a decade, but I still felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere.
Being here was a prime example.
