This is usually the part in my dream where a certain black-haired beauty works her way in. Her image is so crisp, so pure that it’s as if she’s standing right in front of me. I always considered myself to have a type: blond hair with light-colored eyes. Much like Carly’s friend Tara that I met that night so long ago. But one look at Carly’s dark hair and exotic beauty had me throwing everything I thought about myself right out the damn window. One night with her wasn’t enough. Two years later and it still isn’t. I crave her like an alcoholic craves a sip of whiskey.
I drive towards my shitty little apartment in a shitty part of town, all part of this shitty life I’m living. I pick up the phone and send a quick text message to Luke.
Me: Tell me what I need to do to get this job done.
I slam the gearshift into neutral and head up the crumbling steps. Inside, I don’t even turn on the lights. I head straight to the little cabinet above the fridge and grab the bottle of gold liquid. Jose. When I’m feeling extra shitty, I drown my sorrows in the man who helps calm my mind. I slam back the bottle without even grabbing a tumbler. I don’t want to waste the time or the glass.
The liquid burns my throat, lighting my gut on fire with each gulp. After I’ve chugged several mouthfuls, I finally pull the bottle from my lips. Walking over to the nasty old couch that I found for practically nothing at the Salvation Army, I throw myself down, feet hanging over the armrest. My hand hangs over the edge, firmly gripping the bottle of poison. After several deep breaths, I take one more long pull from the bottle before setting it down on the floor.
I should order a pizza. I’ve just consumed enough liquid to render me legally drunk in every state in the union . Food would help absorb the alcohol and keep my senses from being too impaired. But, I don’t want food. I want solitude. Tonight, I want to get lost in the rest of this bottle and try to forget the eyes that haunt my dreams. Those dark chocolate eyes that I see every damn time I close my eyes.
Tonight, I just want to forget the one I can’t have.
But even after a quarter of a bottle, it’s still not enough to forget.
Chapter Five – Best Friends Forever
Carly
“You made it,” Tara exclaims as she stands up and greets Natalia and me. “I told the hostess that we needed a table in the back so that the little lady couldn’t disturb everyone in the restaurant.”
I pull off Nat’s jacket and hand her to her honorary aunt. Tara has an older brother, my boss, Reid, but there’s no way he will ever settle down and make her the real deal. “Good thinking,” I tell my best friend as she places my happy toddler in the wooden highchair at the end of our booth. I quickly make a grab for her favorite set of linking rings and toss them on the table within her reach.
“How has my sunshine been?” Tara asks, rubbing her hand over Natalia’s fuzzy head.
“Not too bad. Just when I think she’s developing a new routine, she throws me off my game and reverts right back to being a night owl,” I say as I glance over the menu.
“Well, at least she’s a beautiful night owl,” Tara coos, speaking baby as if that makes my daughter understand her better.
“You’d think that. Maybe you need to come over at two a.m. when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs and pulling at her hair.”
“I would, but I need my beauty sleep,” Tara says with a grin and a wink. Tara is drop dead gorgeous with her platinum blond hair and her striking blue eyes. Men practically drop to their knees before her, worshipping her everywhere we go. I’ve always been second fiddle when it comes to Tara. Guys check me out, sure, but it always seems like their eyes gravitate to the beautiful tall, tanned blond before they find their way to me. Well, except that one night…
“I won’t hold it against you. What are you going to have?” I ask, perusing the entrée selections one more time. This place is definitely a little pricier than I like to dine at, but Tara invited me to come, so I’ll take the financial hit to my checkbook. I’ll just have to budget a few other expenses later this month.
“Oh, I’m going for the grilled salmon and steamed vegetables,” she says as the waiter approaches our table. He does a quick double take first at Tara, and then glances at me with an appreciative head to toe check. Typical. He practically starts to drool all over the front of his starched white dress shirt and black necktie.
“What do…can I get…what would you ladies like to drink?” he asks, his eyes still focused on Tara’s girls, hidden snuggly beneath her black shift dress.