Page 2 of Love & Other Disasters

“Is this a setup?” Violet stared at those blue eyes of hers to tell if she lied.

“God, no… I’ve never met this guy. You’re my distraction from them talking football, or business, or whatever antics they got up to back in the day. Not to date the guy.”

Elle appeared sincere, so Violet accepted her fate and sighed. “It must be serious if you’re doing this for him.”

“He has a talented tongue,” she shrugged.

Violet laughed. “You’re gross. Is that all you think about?”

“Rarely,” Elle sighed. “And, he’s confident enough to date me and not act like a douche. That’s a rare thing to find.”

The problem for Elle was finding a man not intimidated by her career and who was also not a jerk. Violet resigned herself to help. “Where is this place?”

“The Rabbit.”

The Rabbit was a small plate and cocktail bar downtown in the well-known Printer’s Alley. It was an area filled with tourists, and not somewhere they’d frequent, but hey, this night had potential for excitement.

“What the hell. Let’s do this,” Violet said.

“Yay.” Elle turned. “I have ideas for your makeup. What about a push up bra?”

“I think I’ll keep my underwear, thank you.” She hurried after her friend up the gigantic staircase with the modern metal banister to the owner’s suite. It was a spacious room with a walk-in closet the size of her bedroom. Elle’s bedroom, like everything else, was decorated in creams and light pink. Above the carefully put together bedding with fifteen pillows on the huge four post bed, hung an abstract painting by an artist from out in East Tennessee.

The dark, rich sapphire blue dress hung on the door showcasing a boat neck collar and an A-line skirt. It was gorgeous and something she’d admire in a store but would never dare to try on. Violet’s style was cotton poly-blends purchased at the stores where they discount name brand items by half or more. Tonight, it was time to push herself out of her comfort zone and into proper style.

“Now, hurry,” Elle said. “Pop those contacts in. It’s time to get dressed.”

Violet did as told, and in fifteen minutes, found herself primed, spackled, and painted until no longer recognizable. The false eyelashes Elle attached to her lids made them heavy. What if they made it difficult to keep her eyes open? And would they slide down and get glued to her contact lens? Would she regret tonight?

But as Violet slid into the blue dress that might cost more than her years’ salary, her heart pounded in her chest. She needed a night to unwind; it wasn’t something she did often. And she should have fun with it. Violet twirled around to Elle’s laugh and eye roll.

“Turn around,” she ordered, pulling hair pins from a drawer. Violet turned, and Elle twisted her hair into a chic chignon, then sprayed enough hairspray to kill the ozone layer.

The watch on her wrist dinged. “Our ride’s here,” she said tapping the screen.

“You ordered a ride?”

“Tonight’s for fun. And nothing gets in the way of drinking.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Too much work and not enough play,” Elle said.

“I must make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

She laughed. “Our ride awaits.”

They found the Rabbit in the corner of an old brick building along Printer’s Alley. It boasted the claim-to-fame of being the same spot as Jimmy Hoffa’s lawyer’s office. The restaurant had patio seating with string lights hung overhead from the building to the fence posts. Even on a sweltering night in early June, several people gathered around outside tables, drinking. Laughter floated out of the alley.

The exposed brick walls were authentic to the building showcasing the ductwork. The rich brown hardwood flooring throughout and comfortable options of bar seats, high top tables, or couches and armchairs in front of a fireplace gave the room a cozy vibe.

“Are these floors original?” The scuffs and imperfections that covered the floor made it appear so gorgeous. Was it history or created to fool people? “Do you think we’re walking where Hoffa once stood?”

“I don’t see Brent anywhere,” Elle ignored her and sounded annoyed, but then smiled. “Who cares, let’s have a drink.”

Violet laughed. “Did you call him?”

“I texted him we were on our way in the car.” She moved through the crowd to the bar. The giant television hung on the wall lit up with a European club soccer game. A row of bearded hipster guys broke eye contact with the screen to check out Elle. Everyone noticed her friend.

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