Where We Left Off (5 page)

Chapter 8

There was a club in North Wilmington called
The Avenue
.  Tucked away in a quiet part of the city, it was one of the more lavish lounges in Delaware very trendy and intimate.  It had two floors with an overlooking loft on the upper story which was lit dimly enough to make out faces or, as Mason would call it, measure the level of attraction.  Unlike most clubs in the area, the DJ at
The Avenue
played music for the sound, not the lyrics, so the atmosphere was entertaining enough to dance but calm enough to sit back and enjoy a drink or entertain a friend.  Every other Friday they hosted an exclusive happy hour event, invitation VIP only.  Gentlemen on the list were permitted to be accompanied by no more than two male guests, and the ladies, no more than four female friends.  Mason’s was a name they kept on the list, as he was in many ways considered to be one of the most eligible young men in the area that frequented the club.  The idea was to promote a classy atmosphere of singles, both men and women, which was something no other club focused on or offered.  Most clubs were more concerned about quantity than quality, but not this place.
The Avenue
understood the value in being upscale and chic.  It was something that set them apart from the rest – a place that provided the close to the best, especially when it came to women, and ones that often caught Mason’s eye. 

Before tonight Mason hadn’t been to the club in months, but even then, like now, he always arrived alone.  He preferred it this way.  He didn’t like too many people in his business.  But then again, who would?  He walked into the club.  It was dark at first, but in so many ways that was comforting.   From around the corner, just beyond the security, he could hear the rhythmic muffle of distant music providing a backdrop for the meaningless chatter of people behind him unaware of the guest list.  He laughed
,
walking past the hostess, sliding his ID back into his pocket
. 
Where most lounges carried the scent of sweat, alcohol, and cleaning products, this one was strategic in its placement of ambient scenting.  It was light, yet not too dominant, clean and soothing. 
Ahhh, it's good to be home,
he thought.

Finally, finding his way to an empty booth in the corner, he caught the eye of a cocktail waitress approaching him to take his drink order. Something about her was very familiar to him. 
Unbelievable,
he shook his head and smiled downward, laughing at the coincidence of running into her here…now. 
What was her name?
  His mind drew a numbing blank, which he knew he would pay for in a few minutes when she reached him.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her, although he remembered that it involved far less clothing. By now her eyes had adjusted, moving from table to table and person to person through the few people that had arrived moments ago.  Just as fast as he’d recognized her, she recognized him, but her face was absent of a smile or any expression that said she was remotely happy to see him.  She made her way through the few booths and tabletops ahead of him until finally she reached his table. 

“What can I get you?” she nonchalantly asked.

He paused before answering, his eyes easing towards her name tag.
Angie!! That’s right, now I remember you,
he said to himself.

Her name was Angela but she preferred to be called Angie, at least that was some of what he remembered.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said.

She paid little attention to his attempts at small talk, or his seeming to be interested in any conversation at all.

“Do you want something to drink or don’t you?”

“Um, yeah I guess…I’ll have a Captain and Coke.”

She turned away without saying another word and walked towards the bar. 
Angie,
he thought to himself.  The last time he’d seen her had to be months ago, three or four maybe.  Where they met was a distant memory, but everything in between was pretty obvious.  Why she seemed so irritated with him, though, he was still searching for the answer.  Before his thought was even finished, his Captain and Coke slid in front of him. Angie started to walk away before he could even look up to mouth the word thanks.

“Angie,” he called out.  “How have you been?”

“Are you serious?” she asked, turning back around, sickened at just the sound of his voice.

He looked shocked at her response.

“Oh my God, he’s serious,”
she mumbled to herself.  “Okay first off, unless you’re ordering something from the bar I’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything else to me.”

“Wow, okay.  Um, I’m sorry,” he stuttered.  “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.”  She shook her head, resting her hands on the edge of her hips. “Do you even remember me?”

“Yeah, actually, I do remember you,” he assured her.

The longer she stood in front of him the more he remembered.  They’d met at a local bank, where she was working at the time.  She waited on him at the counter and Mason, being himself, was the usual charmer.  She was attractive, very well spoken, and engaging, and he talked himself right out of the bank and into her bed only hours after she had gotten off work. 

“I thought you worked for the bank,” he said.

“I do.  This is what’s called a second job.  I have bills and daycare.”  She paused.  “You know what, it doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t know that.  I guess it didn’t really matter in the end anyway.  You got what you wanted.”

Daycare!
Then it really started to come back to him. 
That’s right, she has kids.  Wait, she has kids.

“You have kids?” he asked. 

             
She shook her head, laughing, “You’re such an ass,” and brushed him off.

In his conquest, he never noticed the car seat in her car as he walked past it, and he never noticed
the toys sprawled across her living room floor either.  He went straight into the bedroom and after the night was over he left her alone, sound asleep in her bed.  He never called her again, and he never returned her calls.

             
“Look, I’m sorry.  I have an extremely bad memory.”

             
“No you don’t. You remember exactly what you want to remember, just like you call back exactly who you want to.  If you weren’t really interested in me, you could have just been honest instead of pretending like you were just to sleep with me.”

             
“I’m sorry,” he uttered, stunned at her abruptness.

             
“Don’t be,” she responded, “that’s who you are. I was just stupid enough to think you were more than that.”

             
She walked away from the table and never came back over.  Another waitress had come over to serve him.   She made no mention of Angie or why she was now serving him.  He wasn’t bothered by it, not as much as he was starting to be by the last comment that Angie had made.  He never really considered how the women he’d been with viewed him afterwards, or whether he’d hurt them or not by not calling or only coming over for one reason.  A part of him had grown used to women with attitudes like Erika’s who just didn’t care, and who were out for the same reason – sex and only sex, no relationship, nothing.  As the moments passed, he found himself laughing into the bottom of his now empty glass of Captain and Coke, almost as if the entire situation was a joke.  That’s what he did, though; he never internalized situations that other people would have.  He never carried the thoughts or feelings that most people did as a result of something bad happening to them. 
Having feelings makes you vulnerable.  Caring makes you vulnerable,
he thought, so in every case possible he plainly did without either one. 

Chapter 9

It took a little longer than expected, but finally the night was progressing.  Two drinks and a little over two hours later Mason was in his element.  The music was perfect, echoing the sounds of John Legend to The Gym Class Heroes.  And the women were phenomenal.  It seemed like Delaware had been hiding its most beautiful women until tonight, because there were a number of faces he’d never seen before.  He had already wooed three women enough to walk out of the club with them at any moment and was working on his fourth.  He was picky, and although the others seemed reasonable to him, they weren’t enough to move him.  This one, though, this one may just be the girl for him tonight.  She sat across from him in the booth like she was on a blind date.  She was cute, with short hair that tapered to her neck, light skin, and a tiny, petite frame.  A little smaller than Mason would usually prefer, and even though her name escaped him her conversation was far more entertaining than the other girls.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” he suggested.

She smiled, “I was hoping you would say that.”

He went to help her out of the booth but was taken off guard.  Still holding her hand as she stood in front of him, he squinted to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was.  A group of women had just come into the club and were heading straight for the bar and he couldn’t help but notice.  Not all of them, just one. 

He shook his head slightly, looking away with a smirk on his face.  “You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled. 

Thinking he was referring to her, the girl he was helping out of the booth turned to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Little did she know Mason wasn’t going anywhere, not anymore. 

“Um, I’m sorry Sarah,” he looked down nervously.

“Samantha,” she corrected him.  “My name is Samantha.”

“Samantha, we’re going to have to do this another time.  I don’t feel much in the mood to leave just yet.”

He wasn’t worried at all about how she would respond.  He didn’t care.  She, on the other hand, was angry.  Making the decision to go home with someone and regretting it later is one thing, but to have that thrown back in your face was shameful.  She shook her head and walked away, melting into the crowd, completely unnoticed by him.  He sat back down and ordered a water, figuring he’d let his drinks settle while he waited.  He couldn’t believe it.  Of all of the women that could have walked into the club that night, there she was.  As if his mind wasn’t bad enough fighting the desire to stop thinking about her, she was right there, in person, only feet from him. She was almost within reaching distance. 
Sydney.
  She wore a deep lavender dress, one that fit her exquisitely, stopping just above her knees, and she was more beautiful than he had remembered.  Her eyes pierced brightly through the dim lights of the lounge and her smile was equally as radiant almost hypnotic.  She turned towards the bar, and her hair flowed like thin strands of silk along her shoulders. 
She is beautiful,
he thought.  Far more than any other woman he’d seen all night.

She had come in with a group of friends celebrating what looked like a birthday. From the outbursts and spurts of excitement at the bar, he was sure someone in the group had just turned thirty.  Mason sat back and never took his eyes from her.  Rounds had moved down the line at the bar to every one of her friends; all except her.  Not one glass had touched her hands or lips since she’d arrived.  Maybe that was his chance to, at the very least, say hello, but than again maybe it wasn’t.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to notice he was there just yet, so instead of walking to the bar and buying her a drink he signaled one of the waitresses over and had them take her a drink without telling her who it came from.  He watched and waited in anticipation of a smile of gratitude, a glance in any direction, not knowing from whence her secret admirer came.  Neither smile nor glance came from her, however, as she politely turned it down she asked for a Sprite instead.  She didn’t know it came from him, so her turning it down wasn’t personal.  He wanted so badly to walk up to her and say hello, but that was what kept him glued to his seat, unmoving and antisocial. 

What am I doing?
he asked himself. 
Why, of all things, am I trying to figure out how to say hello?  Why do I even want to say hello? 
Regardless of every answer he had come up with he still hadn’t moved, and his eyes still rested on her sitting at the bar with her friends.  He watched them laughing, whispering in each other’s ears as different guys tried to approach them.  He even laughed at himself, seeing how hopeless some of them were.  It became entertaining for him outside of the distraction of people dancing and trying to yell over the music to one another.  He was content to stay right where he was.  This was one of the only times he had occupied a booth alone.  He didn’t fully understand his enjoyment at seeing her of wondering what she was thinking, wondering what she did before she’d gotten there, or what she’d do after she left. 

He felt the vibration of his cell phone against his leg and quickly answered it without looking to see who it was. 

“Hello?” he answered. 

There was a slight pause before he heard a soft whisper on the other end of the phone.

“Do you want to guess what I’m
not
wearing right now or are you going to come and find out?” 

Erika,
he shook his head.  She couldn’t have called at a more inconvenient time.

“Where are you?” he asked her.

“Somewhere comfortable, warm, and soft… it smells like you.”

He knew from her playful tone she was already in his house and his bed.  She was the only girl he had ever taken to his house, and since she was a bit of a regular they had an extremely unorthodox relationship.  She knew where he kept the spare key and he was okay with that.  He enjoyed her surprise visits in the middle of the night, although he didn’t really feel up to it tonight.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said, hanging up the phone. 

Erika’s boyfriend, Chris, was out of town, and like usual she decided to pay Mason a visit. This time was more of a surprise, but Mason being Mason couldn’t turn her down, even though everything in him tonight wanted to.  Like Angie said earlier, though, it was who he was.

“Do me a favor,” he said to the waitress handing her his card to pay his bill; “I have a running tab here.  Whatever the young lady at the bar,” he pointed, “in the deep purple dress and her friends order, put it on my tab.”  He gave her his information and walked out of the club, each step heavy with regret.

Why didn’t he just say hello?  What was the big deal about sitting in a dark corner for hours just staring at her?  Did he expect her to notice him and maybe spark the conversation he felt he so badly wanted?  Either way it was too late, and despite his kind gesture of picking up her tab, she’d never know he was there tonight.  He occasionally glanced in his rear view mirror, finding himself thinking the approaching lights behind him were hers.  As odd as the thought was, he found a sense of humor in it one that made him realize he was far more infatuated than he thought. 

As passing streetlights neared him closer to home, he convinced himself that Sydney was nothing more than a desire; a lust without thought or feeling, nothing more than he’d felt before with any other girl who’d piqued his interest.  After all, he thought, approaching his driveway, just up the walk beyond the doors that gated his home was a woman lying in wait, unclothed in the darkness that surrounded her and familiar to his touch, familiar to his wanting of nothing more than what she was giving, familiar to his coldness.  He walked into his house and up the stairs without turning on the lights or even locking the door behind him.   He pushed open his door slowly and there was Erika, lying in his bed, barely covered by the sheets.   His gaze was distracted, neither admiring the idea of what was about to take place or the parts of her body he was able to see by the light peeking into the room.  He barely looked at her at all. She hadn’t even noticed.  He took his clothes off, skipping all the formalities of foreplay all the pleasantries of what he would usually say and do and gave her exactly what she wanted, nothing more and nothing less.  For the first time, he felt completely separated from his desire to sexually please her. He did, but it was more out of obligation, than actually wanting to.

“Oh my God!” she exhaled, falling on top of him.  “Wherever your head is at, you need to keep it there cause’ that …was amazing!”

He laughed, thinking she couldn’t have been more wrong.  Maybe it was amazing to her, but he barely noticed. 
             

She rolled off of him, pulling the sheets just above her shoulders to warm her body from the chill that settled in the air.  Mason hadn’t moved an inch.  Regardless of the chill that fell across his drying body, he lay in his bed as if nothing had happened at all.  Erika gave no thought to it; this was nothing new to her.  But to Mason this was very new.  Not so much the distance, but rather, …
why? 
Why this time felt so different. 
From the time he left The Avenue, or maybe it was from the time he’d seen Sydney, his why became more intertwined with her.  Why he second guessed the decision he was making to come home, why he barely felt a thing lying beside Erika, and why in just a few minutes he was about to get up and leave his bedroom.  He glanced over at Erika and back to the ceiling where his eyes had been fixed for the last twenty minutes. 

“Are you thirsty?” he asked softly, hoping she had fallen asleep.

She had. Moving to the sound of his voice, she said nothing while clenching the covers even tighter to her body.  Mason laughed to himself quietly, getting out of the bed to head downstairs.  He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the room. 

He felt an awkward sense of relief pulling the door closed behind him, not in the mood to look back or even wanting to.  There was something about the absence of sound blending with the night dimming his home that felt comforting; just enough to clear his mind.

He poured a drink, slowly watching it consume the two ice cubes at the bottom of his glass.  Just as they faded into the brown of his drink, his mind back to
The Avenue
and Sydney. The way she walked, the way she laughed with her friends, the way she pushed her hair back behind her ear. 
I must be going crazy,
he thought to himself, staring at his cell phone beside his wallet.  Despite the fact that Erika was upstairs asleep and how late it was, he actually wanted to call her. 

He leaned forward in his chair, opened his wallet to the business card he had tucked away behind his driver’s license, and there it was.  Holding his cell phone in one hand and her number in the other, something in him knew that if he dialed it and she answered everything would change.  More than that, everything about him would change.  Why was pretty obvious: this wasn’t him; feeling this way wasn’t him.  Whether it was a genuine attraction or a simple infatuation, he didn’t care to explore either emotion.  All he knew was that she was different, and he’d never desired to know any woman more than he did her.  Before he thought into it anymore or gave himself any reason not to, he dialed the number and the phone was ringing.  In the hollow sounds of the rolling tone, he felt the nervousness settle in behind his racing heart in the uncertainty that she would answer. 
She’s not going to answer,
he shook his head.  Why would she?  It’s two o’clock in the morning.