“We’ve got other friends here.” She points over her shoulder. “But they don’t want to sit. I was going to order something to eat, so I wanted a table.”
Is she talking about Ivy? Here at the Hardware? I jerk my head in the direction she’s pointing, but don’t see her.
I wish I could put my finger on what it is about Ivy that I can’t seem to shake.
“There’s probably room, then,” I tell Sara.
I assume that the two of them will sit on the opposite side of the booth, so I don’t move over. Her friend does, but Sara doesn’t. She slides in right next to me. I have to shift away to keep my arm from touching her.
“So, is Ivy here with you?”
With a big huff, Sara crosses her arms over her chest and dramatically rolls her eyes. “She’s supposed to be, but I haven’t seen her. It’s her birthday and one of the girls brought cupcakes.”
It’s Ivy’s birthday today? Now I’ll have an excuse to talk to her. I frown. Since when do I ever need an excuse to talk to a girl?
If anyone doesn’t look twenty-one, it’s Sara. She probably has a fake ID. “So I see you didn’t wear your Material Girl garb again.” She looks at me, a blank expression on her face. “Your Madonna look,” I add for clarification. Still nothing. I try again. “Your eighties costume from the party?”
“Oh.” She laughs. I’m still not sure whether she gets it. “No, but I do have this.” She unzips her hoodie and pushes out her chest at me. The word Parishioner is emblazoned on the neon pink T-shirt that’s clearly one or two sizes too small. “I’m your biggest fan,” she says proudly.
Great. She sounds like the stalker from Misery. I force a smile, but it’s hard because my face feels like stone.
Some guys might enjoy having girls show them their tits like this. I don’t. It reminds me too much of the women my father is attracted to.
“Uh, thanks.” I raise my hand and get the waitress’s attention. She nods. A pitcher of beer can’t get here fast enough.
“Great show on Tuesday,” Sara says. “Friday, too. When I got home from the party, I tuned in and listened to you in bed. They should have you do that time slot every weekend. I could listen to you talk all night.”
“Thanks,” I say absently as I watch the band finish setting up. There’s a cello. Interesting. “But if they did give me the Friday night time slot, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
She laughs. Only when she moves a little closer do I realize that she thinks my remark was meant to be flirty.
After a quick sound check, the band starts playing a strange mashup of hip-hop and folk/country. At first I don’t think I like them, but the cello player, a guy, is insanely talented and the lead singer, a woman, has a cool vibe. I’m tapping my fingers on the table top, watching everyone dance and before I can say no, Sara is pulling me onto the dance floor. We dance just the one song before I notice our pitcher of beer has arrived. “I’m parched,” I say, and head back to the table.
After downing half a glass, my salvation finally arrives at the door. I wave Kelly and the guys over.
Kelly and I met at the station, where she does the books. She’s an accounting major, and the job will look good on a resume. Reese is an engineering student who just got an internship this summer at a civil engineering firm in Portland. And then there’s James, my best friend. He dropped out of school for a while after his dad died, so it’s good having him back.
“Glad you guys finally decided to show up. I’ve been feeling like a loser, so these ladies took pity on me.”
We slide over and the three of them sit down. James reaches for the pitcher and does a waah waah fake cry of sympathy.
“Fuck you, Brettner.” I finish my beer and hope they’ll introduce themselves. And they do. I don’t want to make it look like I’m with Sara and her friend any more than it does already.
“Blame her for being late,” Reese says, inclining his head toward Kelly. “We got to her place on time.”
Kelly scowls and pushes her red hair behind her shoulder. “What? I can’t help that Dr. Bastion scheduled a test on Monday and all the beginning accounting students are freaking out. I had to stay late at the tutoring center and go over the material with like seven different students. I texted you, Reese. You could’ve come here without me.”
He leans over and nuzzles her neck. “I’m not complaining. I don’t mind waiting for you.”
“Yeah, but I do.” James rests his arms on the vinyl seat back and surveys the crowd.
Kelly gives him the finger and kicks him under the table. Only she misses, and her shoe connects with my shin.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“There’s a test in Bastion’s class?” Sara’s eyes go wide.
She’s just catching that now? I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
I hold up the empty pitcher to get the waitress’s attention again. Juggling an armful of plates on the other side of the busy bar, she nods at me.
“I like these guys,” James says, watching the band. “Who are they?”
“Yeah, I do, too.” I grab the flyer that’s sandwiched between the mustard and ketchup. “They’re called Shoo, Gretchen.”
James laughs. “Great name.”
I make a mental note to approach them after this set. Depending on when they leave town, maybe they’d want to record a live session at the station before they head back. PSU students appreciate indie music that doesn’t fit into a particular mode, so I know they’d love these guys.
Sara cranes her neck to see the stage, then makes a face. “I don’t get it. She’s got ugly shoes.”
Kelly snorts. Reese puts his head into the crook of his elbow. And James has a hungry glint in his eye. I give him an are-you-kidding-me look. He just shrugs and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
The guy’s a total man-whore. He’s already thinking how easy it’s going to be to convince Sara to go home with him. Or if he’s really lucky, just a blow job out in the parking lot. That way, there’s nothing to deal with in the morning.
Which is fine with me. Then she’s out of my hair.
Ivy
Cassidy grabs my arm. “Oh my God. He’s here.”
He? As in Aaron? My stomach bottoms out and my first reaction is to duck behind her. I’m sure my eyes are freakishly huge right now (like those animal pictures with the Photoshop eyes, which by the way, totally creep me out). I glance around the bar, trying to locate him. I’m pretty sure my voice just croaked out, Who?
“Who do you think, Birthday Girl? Last weekend? The White House? Hot guy? The one from the radio?” I stare at her blankly. She’s talking at me but it’s like the words are stuck in a jar of honey. If I had to take a comprehension test right now based on what she just said, I’d get an F. “Ives, you’re pathetically pathetic.” She points and, like a robot, I look in that direction, afraid of what I might see.
In a booth in the corner, under a light made from a giant rusty sawmill blade, Jon Priestly is sitting with a bunch of other people.
And just like that, I can feel the color returning to my face. My stomach unknots and my jaw unclenches.
It takes precisely three seconds before realization dawns in Cassidy’s eyes. “God, I’m so sorry. You were thinking him him.” She wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug. “I can’t believe what a rotten friend I am. I wasn’t thinking.”
I feel bad that my crazy has affected Cassidy. “I forgive you. But yeah, you’re the rottenest.”
Cassidy hasn’t asked any more about Aaron. All she knows is what I told her that night after the party. I think she felt sorry for me with the migraine, so she’s not about to press me again.