“Not like I had the luxury of any dates recently to use as an excuse,” she half-teased.
“Sorry about that. Could be worse: you could hook up with the love-them-and-leave-them type.”
“Are you kidding me? After the night you described, I’d take it even if I were given in advance the knowledge that I’d never see the guy again! Not saying that’s how it’s going to go down for you,” she quickly added,” but seriously, sex like that, a connection like you just had, it doesn’t happen very often even if you sleep around. Hold onto that to get through this week, and more if needed.”
“I will. I’ll get through. I have my wonderful job to distract me,” I stated, almost not getting the lie out without laughing.
“You call if you need me any time this week. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock Friday night. That way you can drink all you want, no matter what mood you find yourself in,” she offered.
“You are the best!”
“I know.”
~~~
So, in true friend fashion, Chloe sat with me Friday and Saturday, back in the club with me hoping to run into Lex.
“This is getting stalker-ish,” Chloe teased, but with a slight edge to her voice that I recognized as boredom.
The band that had played last night hadn’t been bad, but I thought that Lex’s band, The Pragmatics, had ruined me for any other. Never thought I’d have a favorite band any more than I could pick a favorite book, but now I did. The band that played tonight, however... well, they simply sucked.
Still alternative rock, as it seemed to be what this club was primarily known for, but this group’s lyrics rarely made sense. Actually, I preferred it that way considering how bad the music itself was. When they did make sense, they’d proven disturbing so far. I’d read, by way of review, that this club had fallen out of people’s places to be for a few years until an overhaul last year. Apparently, now it had been rated a wild card that was all too often overlooked according to one reviewer whose bio claimed her as in the know about nightlife here in the city.
Last night, the band had played a much more dance-beat kind of rock. Their followers had given a blatant disregard for the fact that the place had no dance floor. Seeing them dance between the tables in clothes that could be considered costumes had had an appeal all of its own. The real show had been on the floor of the club, rather than from the band itself. They could have been a jukebox for all the people seemed to care.
Tonight, no one moved from their chairs except to get booze and snacks. The roar of the crowd outdid the volume of the band. Rude, but, after a few minutes of noise pollution, anyone would see why. Every once in a while their guitarist’s hand would slip or something, and the electric guitar would screech or make some awful noise like that, making themselves known again. Sad, really. I actually felt bad for them. To look at their faces, they appeared scared and humiliated. I could identify.
“This band is horrible. I’m well aware, as is my last nerve ending. Can you please just stick it out with me a little longer? If he doesn’t come in by ten, I’ll give up and wait out another excruciating week with just my obsessive thoughts to haunt me,” I overdramatized.
“You owe me, girl. Big time!” she spat back, though I knew she didn’t mean it so much as she’d forced it to sound.
Chloe remained the queen of overdramatization. She should have tried her hand at acting, but she’d never been interested in being in the limelight. She wanted the practical in life, the whole husband, family, and picket fence fantasy. I loved that about her, on top of a thousand other things.
“I know. Start asking any time,” I mused.
I went back to my merciless staring at the door. I did at least like the ambiance of this place. It had more wood and brick, with a bit of old metal, than all the chrome and black with neon lights other clubs had. By the time I went home from them, I saw purple and blue spots in my line of vision. This place looked more like a loft apartment, one I’d give my right hand for. I could only dream of owning such a place, of course, thinking of paying for it only out of royalties for my stories. I’d never have to leave it. I could order in my groceries and write on a large desk overlooking the city. Ah, dreams. I currently had a lot of them. Daydreaming remained my favorite hobby. I’d been over-indulging all week, too.