Page 72 of Captured Solace

“I used to read cards, but I know how to read people better,” she said.

She disappeared again, leaving me staring after her, wondering if there was such a thing as coincidences. I sipped my coffee and looked out at the wharf and thought about the auction down at the wharf and the woman who used to read cards in New Orleans.

Then I went home and worked until the sun began to set. In the distance rang the sounds of the auction down at the shoreline and for some reason, they enticed me. I rose from my desk and went to the window, looking out over Charleston.

I’d come here because it felt free. Because looking out over the ocean made me feel like there was more to me than following in my father’s footsteps and abiding by tradition I’d never believed in. And yet, somehow, I was still trapped. The albatross around my neck had always been heavy, but tonight it felt like an anchor, dragging me down to the bottom of the ocean.

All along the shoreline, lights sprung up and I heard the distant sound of music. Why was it so easy for ordinary people to find freedom and why did it seem so impossible for me?

Perhaps because I wasn’t good people like them.

But still, a part of me wanted to taste that kind of wild abandonment. So I changed my shoes and left my office and walked through the warm night toward the shore.

Down by the water, I disappeared into a crowd of sweating bodies in a bar along the shoreline. There was a band playing lively folk music, headlined by a beautiful woman with light skin, hazel eyes, and a glittering dress that showed off her curves. I ordered a drink and sat down, my gaze straying to her body, moving like something from a dream.

She was beautiful and as the vodka hit my veins, I found myself wondering if she’d come here alone. Not because I truly wanted to sleep with her, no, I wasn’t ready for that. But I let myself look for a moment, the pain in my chest acute. Fuck it all anyway, I wasn’t a good man, I was my father’s son, which meant the blood of a womanizing murderer ran through my veins.

And then there it was again, that fucking albatross hanging from my neck, crushing me with the weight of my failures.

I ordered another shot and the evening wore on. The reflection of the moon rippled over the water and the sounds around me grew wilder the later it got. There was a group of men around a fire on the shoreline and they were singing and yelling drunkenly. The world swam in a sea of sound and flickering, low lights. Beside me, the bartender lit torches and the air filled with the pungent scent of citronella.

The bar descended into drunken chaos the closer it got to midnight. The woman on the stage had disappeared, replaced by a band playing covers of Nine Inch Nails songs. A pair of drunk blonde girls had taken off their shirts and bras and were dancing at the front of the crowd. I lit a cigarette and watched them disinterestedly. I had no idea what their faces looked like, but they both had gorgeous bodies that somehow didn’t interest me in the slightest.

One of them caught my eye and smiled, beckoning me. I shook my head and she maneuvered her way over, bouncing on the balls of her feet. I took out another cigarette and put it between my lips, flicking my lighter absently and breathing in the smoke.

“Come dance with me,” she shouted above the noise.

I leaned close so she could hear me. “Fuck, no.”

Undeterred, she pushed her tits against my arm, looking up at me with her lashes fluttering. She was trying to make bedroom eyes, but she was too drunk to even focus on my face.

“Then take me in the bathroom and fuck me,” she said. “You’re fucking sexy and I’m horny.”

“I’m also married,” I said.

She blinked. “What?”

I leaned in until my mouth was against her ear. “I’m married.”

She grabbed my wrist and turned my hand. I’d taken my wedding ring off earlier and left it at the office, but there was still a mark where it had sat.

“Where’s your ring?”

“I’m separated.”

“Then you’re not married.” She rubbed herself against me like an animal in heat. “How about a blowjob then?”

I shook my head. “You’re fucking drunk. I wouldn’t put my dick in any part of you even if I wasn’t married.”

I stood up and she scowled, pushing her lower lip out, clearly upset by my rejection. Before I could step back, she made a grab for my groin and I jackknifed back into the bar, narrowly evading her assault. Then she was on me, her half naked body rubbing up against mine as she tried to shove her hand under my waistband. I’d had this happen before and it was a difficult situation to get out of as a man. Yes, she had attempted to assault me, but to everyone else I looked like a man trying to wrestle down a much smaller woman.

I didn’t have to decide what to do because someone pulled her off me by the upper arm. It was the woman from the stage, still wearing her glittery dress and heels. She took the blonde woman by the elbow and shoved her against the stools, sending her clattering to the ground. The girl scrambled to her feet, flipping me off over her shoulder, and disappeared out the door.

“Thanks,” I said, turning to the woman from the stage.

“It’s my bar and I don’t fuck with people who do shit like that,” she said, circling the counter. “How about a free drink?”

“I’m good, I’m not crying about it,” I said.

---