Page 3 of Rebound With Me
Nina
“I have some conditions,”I say, as I start to follow him towards the door, past Marty at the cash register. If Marty is wondering where the tall serious man I’m usually with is, he certainly doesn’t show it.
“I’m all ears,” says Vince. I assume that’s his real name.
“I need to take a picture of you. To send to my friend so she can identify you, in case you do rape and murder me.”
He laughs. “Okay, but only if you get my good side.”
“Do you have a bad side?”
“Well yes, but it’s more of an internal thing.”
I hold my phone up and snap a picture of him as he raises his eyebrow, grinning. If that’s not his good side, I don’t think I can handle the better one. I close the camera app on my phone, put my phone in my bag, and nod.
“We good to go?”
“Lead the way.”
He opens the door for me, placing his hand ever so gently just above the small of my back as I pass in front of him. Instead of making my knees give out, it seems to give me more confidence, which is surprising. I have a feeling (and secretly hope) that it’s the fourth of many pleasant surprises tonight. The first is that this guy started talking to me, the second is that he invited me to have a drink, the third is that I am actually going with him.
“Have a good night, Marty.” He salutes him.
“Thanks for stealing my customer, you jerk.”
“I owe ya one.”
I wave to Marty and make an apologetic face from the sidewalk.
It’s still kind of warm, the sun hasn’t quite set yet, and there are plenty of people walking around. It doesn’t even occur to me that I don’t want to run into my ex or anyone from my around my building. All I can think about is how flipping glad I am that I put some effort into getting myself ready to leave my apartment tonight.
Ten minutes ago I didn’t think I was the kind of girl who went for a drink with a sexy tattooed stranger that she’d just met, but right now I am just putting one foot in front of the other and trusting that my twenty-seven year old life of being smart and safe isn’t about to end, it’s just going to get more interesting.
Vince walks in step with me. The two-inch space between us is both appropriate and filled with possibilities. I can see the front of Bitters, a block ahead, a few people milling about in front of it. I take a deep breath and a quick look over at this beautiful man who’s staring at me like I’m a pop quiz and he’s got all the answers. Oh lord, he is beautiful.
“So you walk by Bitters all the time but you’ve never been in before?”
“I’ve never really been to any bar in Brooklyn, actually.”
“Really?”
I laugh. “It’s weird, saying that out loud.”
“You new to the area?”
“Kind of.”
“When’d you move here?”
“Um. About three years ago.”
He laughs, then looks back at me and sees that I’m not joking. “Jesus. What the hell have you been doing with yourself?”
“Oh, I go to restaurants. Bar and grill type places. I mean, I did. With my fiancé. Ex-fiancé. He’s older, he wasn’t into the bar scene.”
For a split second, it’s like the shadow of a cloud passes over Vince’s gorgeous sexy face. He blinks and shakes his head. “Older ex-fiancé, huh? Now I think I know why you need a drink.” We reach the entrance to Bitters. He reaches for the door and leans in to me, so close I can feel his breath in my ear. “Welcome to Brooklyn, Nina. I hope I can show you the good time you deserve.” One wink as he leans away, and I have no doubt that he can, I just wonder if I’ll let him.
Bitters is not too big, not too small, not too crowded, and it greets us with dim lighting and the crooning of a bearded raspy-voiced guitar-playing singer-songwriter whose name I don’t remember, but I hear him from speakers all over Brooklyn. Maybe this is the summer I’ll learn the names of alternative singers and actually become cool enough to live here.
