Fast Lane (2 page)

Brea nods in agreement while chewing on the inside of her cheek. Suddenly, she jumps up. “I have an idea. Tomorrow, let’s go for those BFF tattoos we’ve been talking about. I’ll call Josh when I get home and set up an appointment for us. But for now, let’s go have those juicy burgers and drinks. I’m starving.” I let out a deep sigh. “Come on,” she says with a frustrated groan. “Whiskey Sours always cheer you up. Plus, that AMAZING smokey-flavor homemade ketchup that Mary Jane’s is famous for.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go. Tonight, we’re going to drink until we’re silly, and tomorrow—” I trail off and let out another sigh. “Tomorrow, I will call Patrick and try to let him down as gently as possible. God, I hope he doesn’t freak the hell out.”

“Get your ass out the door, woman, or I’m leaving without you,” she says on her way out. “The cab just pulled up.”

“Alright. I’m coming.” I say, pushing myself up off the couch. I grab my purse and follow Brea out, locking the door behind us.

WE ARRIVE AT
Mary Jane’s and get seated at a table in the center of the main dining area. After a few moments, a waiter approaches our table. Nice looking guy. Tall, fit, short blonde hair, and blue eyes. I’m such a sucker for gorgeous eyes.

“Good evening, my name is Jared. What can I get you lovely ladies to drink?” he asks, never seeming to break eye contact with Brea. I loudly clear my throat and smile in amusement. Brea is gorgeous, and all the men notice.

“I’ll have a Whiskey Sour, please, and a bottle of beer.”

“And for you, darlin’?” he asks Brea. She blushes.

“Ummm, I’ll have a Strawberry Margarita, please.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be back with those for you both shortly,” he says, winking at Brea as he turns and strides away from our table. Brea is watching him the entire time. Once he’s out of sight, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye and starts to smirk.

“Oh my God, Brea.” We both burst out laughing like we’re back in first grade. She doesn’t even have to say anything. She just gives me that certain look and I know exactly what she’s thinking: he’s hot. Just as the laughter subsides, she glances behind me toward the door, and her eyes become the size of sand dollars. “Bre…what’s—” A hand touches my shoulder, and I know immediately that it’s Patrick.
Shit! Shit shit shit!

“Babe, what are you doing here?” he asks. His brow is furrowed, and he looks confused. “I thought you said you had to work tonight.”

“Uh, hi, Patrick, about that…”

Brea abruptly chimes in, “Oh they called her when she was on her way saying they didn’t need her anymore. I happened to be close by, so I snatched her up for a little girl time.”

Thank you!
I mouth. I don’t want Patrick to see.

“Well, you girls don’t mind if I join you for a drink, do you? I was just going to grab some take-out, but since you’re here I think I’ll stay.” He slides in next to me and places his arm around my neck.

“Of course we don’t mind,” Brea says. Just then, Jared comes back with our drinks. His mood seems to have changed. My guess is he’s a little perturbed by Patrick’s sudden appearance.
Right there with ya, buddy. Right there with ya
.

“Uh, hey man, what can I get you to drink?” Jared asks.

“I’ll just have a Pepsi,” Patrick says dryly.

“I’ll be right back with that,” Jared says, giving Brea another sweet look as he rushes off.

“So, Patrick, what’s your band working on right now?” Brea asks. I know she only asked to keep him distracted from wanting to bother me. Patrick and his band mostly play on weekends at local bars and small charity events. He places his hand on my leg. It rests there while he proceeds to ramble on and on to Brea about the next set list they’re working on. He’ll jump at any chance to talk about himself.

“Our new set list is so flawless, Brea. We’re going to be booked every weekend for the next three months at least. Our next show is at the tavern on Highway 68 next Saturday night.”

Jared comes back right away with Patrick’s drink and takes the rest of our order. Thank God it doesn’t take long to get our food. I’m anxious to eat and get out of here. Fast. As I throw back my third drink, I realize I have a pretty good buzz going on.
I’m a lightweight, what can I say
.

Maybe now would be a great time to end it with Patrick, while I have the courage. It’s almost like it was meant to be that he showed up and ruined our girl’s night. Like some greater power is trying to tell me to just hurry up and get it over with
. I’ve made my decision
. After we drop Brea off, I will tell Patrick it’s over. I can’t do this anymore.

He pays for our dinner, and the three of us walk out to his car. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking me home, Patrick?” Brea asks. “I can call another cab, really. Then you and Lex can have more time to talk. I kept you pretty busy chatting during dinner about the new set list and all.”

“No, Brea, it’s fine. We can take you home.” I hurry to answer before Patrick has a chance.

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all day. Are you coming down with something? Maybe I should stay the night so I can take care of you.” He looks concerned.

“I’m fine, Patrick. Just tired.”

The rest of the car ride to Brea’s place is quiet. I stare out the window and try to figure out a way to let Patrick down easy. It doesn’t matter how I say it, though. I know it’s going to crush him. I just hope he doesn’t go off the deep end. Ten minutes later, we arrive at Brea’s. She hops out and pops her head through the passenger side window where I’m sitting.

“Well, thanks for dinner, guys. Patrick, keep me posted on that concert in the city you were telling me about.”

“You bet, Brea. Goodnight.”

She and I exchange looks. She inhales deeply, nods at me, and says, “Lex, text me when you get home, please.”

“I will. Goodnight, Bre. Love you.”

“Love you too, chick.” She kisses the top of my head and jogs inside as Patrick drives away. By now, the alcohol is starting to wear off, and I’m not feeling quite as brave as before. He reaches over and starts rubbing my knee.

“Are you sure you’re okay, babe? Do you want me to stop at the store to get you anything? Crackers? Ginger ale? Soup?”

“Patrick, I’m not sick.” I’m agitated.

“Well, you’re acting strange,” he says, looking at me with concern.

“Yeah, about that. We need to talk,” I say, just as we pull up to my place. “Just park here on the curb, please.”

“But…I was hoping to stay over tonight. Since you don’t have to work now and all.” He sounds disappointed and hurt.

“I can’t tonight,” I say, looking down at my feet. “Look, Patrick, I care about you a lot, but I don’t think I can do this any more.”

“Do what, Lexi? What are you talking about? Are you breaking up with me? Maybe you should go inside and get some sleep and we’ll talk about this tomorrow after the alcohol has worn off.”

“No, I can’t. We’re talking about this now,” I insist. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I really am. But I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with your crazy mood swings all the time. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“What brought this on all of a sudden? Was it because I freaked out that you were hogging the driveway? Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare you, Lex.” He runs his hands through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. He looks confused and frustrated, like he’s trying to figure out a way to fix this.

“Patrick, please,” I plead, hoping he’ll just accept what I’m trying to say.

“Please what, Lexi? You’re ripping my fucking heart out here. I didn’t realize…” His voice starts off escalated but then trails off into an inaudible whisper. He looks like someone just ran over his dog, and he’s on the verge of tears.

“Fuck, Patrick, I’m sorry. I tried to work through it and deal with it all, and I’m just exhausted from being so on edge all the time around you.”

He’s quiet as he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Then he exhales slowly.

“Okay, Lex, whatever you want,” Patrick says in a dry, even tone. He then gets out of the car and walks around to my side to open the door for me. I’ve just ripped the man’s heart out and he’s being a perfect gentleman. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Patrick, I really believe there’s someone better out there for you. I hope you don’t hate me. I truly am sorry,” I say, while grabbing my purse and climbing out of the car.

“I could never hate you. I don’t understand why this is happening, though. I love you, Lexi.”

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

“Yeah. See ya, Lex.” He’s obviously crushed that I don’t feel the same way; I couldn’t bring myself to say those three little words. As I walk toward the door he slides back into the car. I turn around to see him watching me in his rearview mirror to make sure I get inside okay before he drives off.

I WALK THROUGH
the door of my house and lock it behind me. I’ve lived here for a few years now, but I still haven’t taken the time to decorate. I’d rather spend my spare time at home, reading, or chatting with friends on social media. I have a couch, a chair, a TV (that I rarely ever watch), and a bed. What more do I need? I enjoy being on my own, not having to share my space with anyone. Men just seem to cause me stress.

I’ve lived on my own since I was eighteen. I never knew my mom—she passed away giving birth to me. My dad died from heart surgery complications a couple of months after I graduated high school. Being raised by my dad, I learned a lot about cars and how to stick up for myself. He also taught me to never seriously date a man I couldn’t marry. While I’m relieved that things are over with Patrick, I can’t help but wonder how he’s going to deal. He’s never been violent, but I’ve seen him lose his temper more times than I can count. And the way he grabbed my face tonight was scary.

I decide to have a long, hot shower, slip into my favorite pair of fleece pajamas, and curl up in bed under my blue flannel blanket. My mom made it while she was pregnant with me. It’s the only thing I have from her other than pictures. It’s brought me a lot of comfort over the past twenty-four years.

As I lie in bed, I remember that I forgot let Brea know I was home safe and quickly send her a text.

Me
: I’m home. Fill you in on Patrick tomorrow.

Brea
: It’s about time you texted me! I was getting worried. I called Josh. We have an appointment with him at one tomorrow.

Me
: I’m really looking forward to some fresh ink.

Brea
: Love ya, chick. See you tomorrow! Stoplight Café for lunch first?

Me
: Sure, sounds great! I could go for a big plate of cheese fries. I’ll meet you at your place at 11:30.

Brea
: It’s a date! Nighty night! Xx

Me
: Goodnight. Xx

I place my phone on the nightstand, switch off my lamp, and curl up on my soft, warm bed. Just as I start to drift off to sleep, the doorbell rings.
Seriously? I just got comfortable!
I throw off my blanket as I get out of bed, and grab my robe to go answer the door.

“Who is it?” I ask loudly before I open it.

“It’s Derek, Lexi.”

My neighbor. He has short brown hair and bright, sparkling blue eyes. He wears his facial hair very short and neatly trimmed, not one of those bushy lumberjack beards. His muscles are toned, but not overly bulky, and he’s just under six feet tall. Derek moved into the neighborhood about four months after I did.

I open the door to see him covered head to toe in dirt and grease. He details cars in his spare time. “Wow, Derek…you got a mess tonight? What happened?”

He looks a little embarrassed, and tries to wipe his hands clean on his shirt. “Ah, yeah, sorry to pop over like this. I know it’s getting late. I’m trying to tune up a car for a friend, and the oil plug was stuck. I managed to get the plug off, but knocked the drain pan out of the way in the process and now my garage, and myself, obviously, are a mess. Anyways, I was hoping you might have some kitty litter I could use?” He smiles widely at me, flashing his dimples. I can’t help but giggle just a tiny bit.