Page 17 of With This Lie

Chelsea: It doesn’t have to be like this.

Chelsea: Won’t you at least think about it?

Chelsea: Lucas please…

I can’t do this with her again. I pull her contact up and block her number. It’s better this way. She needs to let go.

I turn back to my beer and take a few sips and watch Dani work. She smiles at the patrons and pats their arms. All very customer service appropriate. They seem to really respond to her. I wonder how long she’s been working here and tell myself to ask later.

She grabs food from the side and skips my way. “Here you go, hungry man,” she says, smiling and sitting my plates down in front of me.

I rub my hands together and lick my lips to match her playfulness. “Stand back, Dani, this may impress you,” I say, and smirk at her.

She nods her head. “I think we have two very different ideas of what’s impressive in the opposite sex.” She giggles.

She’s probably right. I don’t know why men pride themselves on how gluttonous they can be. And I don’t know why we think others should be impressed by it. Still, I’m going to tackle this and tackle it good.

I make easy work of my food while she serves her other patrons. She looks my way and I lean back to rub my belly and gesture at the empty plates.

She comes to collect them. “Come on, it’s time for my last break,” she says.

I follow her out to the alley behind the bar where she leans against the brick building and sighs. I watch her shoulders slump.

“Rough night?” I ask.

“Not particularly. It’s all the same. Sometimes I just feel like I’ve been holding my breath all night and when I get out here, I can finally exhale,” she says.

I understand and nod. “It’s so quiet out here on this side. Hard to believe the hustle going on inside and on the other side of this building.”

“Right? I never understood it either, but I look down this alley and there’s hardly ever anything going on, almost no movement. I could swear I was somewhere else entirely,” she says.

I take a look down the narrow alley road. A few trash cans and back doors to places but no one is parked back here. It really is quite ominous. “So you’re not scared being back here all alone when you don’t have the likes of me to come with you?” I ask.

“The likes of you? What are you, the defender of women who are all alone?” she asks.

“Well sometimes. Sometimes I’m sure they don’t need me,” I say.

“I fall into that second category, if we are categorizing,” she says.

“I don’t know, I don’t really like categorizing. I prefer to let people be who they are and try not to compare them to others,” I say.

“Same,” she says. “Oh hey, I have something for you. I was going to wait until later to give it to you, but I think maybe you should do it while I finish up in there. Stay out here where it’s nice and quiet and give it a real effort, okay?”

“Um, okay? What is it?” I ask, apprehensively.

She pulls her phone out and asks me for my number.

I give it to her and take my phone out.

“Okay, it’s sent. Here, you will need these,” she says, reaching into her pocket and handing me a set of earbuds.

I eye them quizzically and take them from her. My fingertips graze the skin on the back of her hand and I hear her inhale. I wasn’t expecting that either.

“What’s going on here?” I ask with a furrowed brow.

“I just can’t accept that you don’t like music. I’ve compiled a playlist of some really great stuff from a bunch of genres and I want you to listen and see what speaks to you. Just sit down on this stoop and I’ll be back,” she says, opening the door to step back into the bar.

I nod in agreement and decide to take her assignment seriously. I do just what she asked me to do and park myself on the stairs to unroll the earbuds. I plug them into my phone and bring up her message. She sent me the link to the playlist. I push play and concentrate. The first song is definitely a country song, I think. He’s got a smoky voice. The lyrics are good. This song is moody and sad. I take a look at the screen. “Hurt” by Johnny Cash. This isn’t so bad.

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