Page 4 of Love & Other Disasters

Two

Frat Guy approached and slid his way in between Violet and the hipsters, signaling to the bartender as if he hadn’t been sitting on the other side. When he leaned on the counter, his sleeve rose revealing an eye catching watch with a blue face, a silver case, and black band that screamed expensive. He ordered an Aberfeldy twelve scotch neat. Violet turned back to Elle before he turned away from the bar.

“Ladies,” he said in greeting. At his full height he was taller than Violet had expected. Around 6’2” with a trim build under that suit.

“Hi,” Elle replied, reaching her hand out across Violet in a greeting. Violet had little choice but to turn and face him. Much to her surprise his eyes were on her; not her friend. “I’m Elle,” she said. “And this is Katia.”

It took Violet a second to process what she’d said, and when it sank in, Violet shot Elle a “what the hell” expression and Elle beamed. Violet, was now called Katia, and playing a character tonight might not be the worst idea ever. Her mind whirled. If she wasn’t Violet Murphy, but this sophisticated, Katia person and a woman like that would flirt with Frat Guy. After tonight, they’d never see him again, so what was the harm?

Violet smiled up at Frat Guy, then remembered how Elle commandeered the attention of many men with her disinterested air and dialed it back.

“I’m J.P.,” he said, shaking Elle’s hand but looking at Violet. Nodding, she sipped the drink. “Do either of you ladies need another?”

“No,” Elle answered. “I have our tab for the evening.” Elle had won the bet, his attention seemed focused on Violet.

“This one’s different,” she said to Elle, indicating the drink. “Floral?”

“It’s called, The Business. The taste is honeysuckle vodka,” she said.

Violet had to stop downing vodka on an empty stomach. “Let’s look at a food menu,” she said. Something great must have happened in the soccer game because the bearded hipster bar posse jumped up screaming at the same time. One of them fell backward into Frat Guy, who to his credit, didn’t even stumble.

J.P. turned, righting the hipster. “You could have hit a lady,” he said to the wide-eyed kid clutching the barstool and apologizing.

“Is everything all right?” the bartender appeared, yelling over the crowd still celebrating a goal.

“It’s fine,” J.P. replied. “Can we get a food menu, please?” A menu appeared in front of her.

“Shall we find a seat?” he asked.

“Yes,” Violet replied, accepting the offered menu. She followed Elle toward the back of the bar. Aware of only the grumbling from her stomach, the buzz in her brain, and Frat Guys’ hand on the small of her back. “I am Katia,” she told herself, exotic, worldly, and interesting. And completely stupid.

Violet followed Elle to a group of tables with a long booth seat on one side and chairs on the other side. Along the row, people took up several places. Brent and his friend would join them eventually. Violet picked an empty table and slid onto the booth side, motioning for Elle to sit beside her, but the sly devil took the chair opposite her. Frat Guy slid in beside her, the cushion sinking under his weight.

They ordered one of almost every small plate they offered and Frat Guy didn’t bat an eye.

“So, J.P.” Elle begins, “Are you a tourist?”

“Yes, but I might move here.”

“Where do you live now?” Violet asked.

“Atlanta,” he replied. “Are you from here?”

She considered making up something, but with her accent there was no point in denying that she was southern. “I am.”

“I understand that’s a bit of an oddity.”

“That’s Katia,” Elle laughed and Violet shot her a look. How on earth was she doing something this crazy?

Violet looked up as a handsome guy in a well-tailored suit approached Elle. “So, sorry darling—” His gaze fell to Frat Guy.

“Hey,” they both said in unison.

J.P. stood, and they did a handshake too detailed and familiar for strangers.

“I see you guys have already met,” the guy said, looking down at Elle.

“This is your girlfriend?” J.P. asked.

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