“Come on, Beast.” I tug on his leash but he wants to stay with Asher. “I know the feeling, boy,” I whisper.
*****************
Walking into my dad’s house, I'm assaulted by the smell of garlic and butter. I stop in my tracks when I realize that he’s home. “Crap,” I whisper to myself. Dad’s home. Of course, he's home. We have dinner together every night. I try to act normal as I walk into the kitchen. My dad is standing in front of the stove, wearing an apron that looks like a girl in a bikini. I start laughing. "Hey, now. What's so funny?" he asks, smiling.
“Nothing, Daddy,” I say, giggling.
"I'll have you know that your uncle got this for me."
“I'm sure Uncle Joe did,” I say, smirking. Uncle Joe is a funny guy.
“Well, I like it. I look hot," he says, holding his hands out to his sides.
“That you do,” I agree, shaking my head. “So what are we having?” I ask, hopping up on the counter.
“Shrimp Alfredo, garlic bread and salad."
“Yum. Sounds good. I'm leaving at six thirty to head to the Stumble In,” I say, glad that it sounds casual.
"The Stumble In? Why are you going to the bar on a Thursday. I'm not driving you to drink already, am I?"
“Um… No, I'm meeting someone there?” I say, asking rather than telling him. Please don’t ask who, I pray.
“Is that a question or are you meeting someone?”
“Well, I um…ran into Asher at the nursing home when I was visiting his grandmother and he asked me to meet him.”
“You’re meeting Asher at the bar?" he asks with a look on his face that doesn’t bode well for me.
“Yeah, it's just a beer, Dad,” I say, using Asher's words.
"I don't know how I feel about this. I know you’re not a kid but Asher is not the kind of guy I expected you to date. Don't get me wrong, he's a good man.” He shakes his head. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Promise, Dad,” I say quietly. The last thing I need is to get my heart trampled on again. Been there, done that. And Asher’s boots look like they would do a lot more damage than my ex’s. “Besides, Dad, he knows I'm new in town and feels bad for me or something.”
“Or something,” he says under his breath and I ignore him.
Dinner was awesome and Dad quickly dropped the uncomfortable conversation about Asher. Thank God. So now I am standing in front of my closet, trying to pick out what to wear. What do you wear to a bar to have a beer with a hot guy that you don’t want to like?
I haven’t ever really dated random guys. The one serious relationship I had in college went bad after my mom slept with him. I caught them together at his apartment after he sent me a text saying that he was going home after class because he wasn’t feeling well. Me, the loving fiancé that I was, showed up out of the blue to check on him. When I let myself in, the place felt strange. I wanted to turn around and run out but I stayed, walked to his bedroom and when I got there, all I heard was him moaning. It sounded like he was in a lot of pain so I opened the door to find my mom on top of him. I couldn’t even speak. I shut the door silently behind me and sent him a text telling him that I stopped by to check on him but saw for myself that he was feeling much better. He called a million times after that and sent flowers, cards, texts, but I didn’t care. I ignored all of it. I cut him out of my life, mailed him back everything that I had of his—including the ring he had given me—along with a note telling him to stop calling or I would press charges for stalking. After that, I never heard from him again.
“What do you think, Beast? Red sweater dress or T-shirt and jeans,” I ask, holding the items up for Beast to look at. He doesn’t even lift his head. His big body is lying across my bed with his head on his paws.
“You’re right. The dress is too much.” I take off my boots, dress, and leggings. I put on my tight, straight leg, dark blue jeans with holes all over them.
With my jeans on, I decide to go casual and pull out my converse sneakers that are gold with glitter. I put on a long sleeve, scoop neck, white T-shirt and a black, zip front hoodie.
“Now, hair up or down?” I ask Beast, who still hasn’t moved.
“Okay, I agree. I'm just going to leave it down,” I tell him, putting on some lip gloss. I look at the clock and I'm running late. Once out the door and in my car, my nerves start to get the better of me.
“Calm down, calm down, calm down,” I chant out loud to myself. It’s not helping so I turn on music and start singing along. Okay, not singing, I’m rapping. I love listening to rap music. Yes, some of the stuff they say is a little, um, questionable, but it makes me happy.