A Night Out

“Hello, sailor,” Liv drawls. Olivia Meyers-Michaels is my best friend in the world, but her focus is off tonight, to say the least.

“Liv! We were talking about my problems. I need attention,” I whine. Our drinks are nearly empty and we’ve only been at the Horse of a Different Color bar for about ten minutes. We’ve both been in desperate need of a girls’ night for weeks, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I thought we would stay home, watch a sad movie, and eat junk food. Instead, my crazy best friend dragged me out to her favorite bar, and every time a semi-decent looking guy walks in the front door, Liv preens and bats her lashes and totally stops listening to me.

I wipe the pathetic tears I’ve been holding in and flag down the bartender to order two more amaretto sours while Liv finishes flirting with a guy who pays her zero attention. When she finally pouts and turns back to me, I roll my eyes.

“Dude, we’re supposed to be getting over guys, not getting new ones,” I tell her.

“Whatever, Andi. Everyone knows the best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.” She polishes off her drink and slams the glass on the table. I wince. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Actually, no, we’re here to--”

Liv holds up one perfectly manicured finger. Who paints their nails bright orange?

“I’m going to stop you right there, because this,” she points to the ceiling, “is our song.” She grabs my arm and hauls me away from the table right as the waitress plops two fresh drinks down. I look at them sorrowfully.

“Since when is ‘Want U Back’ our song? And why? Isn’t this counterproductive?” I yell over the music, which seems to have gotten significantly louder.

Liv either doesn’t hear me or pretends not to, and proceeds to shake her hips and throw her hair around while holding my arm in a vice-like grip, effectively preventing me from sitting back down.

“Liiiiiv.” I try to wriggle out of her grasp and she looks offended.

“Andi, listen to me,” she says, her tone fervent. I step closer and try to hear her over the buzz of the bar and the music, but only a few words of what seems to be a very impassioned speech break through the noise. “That’s why…and you know…he didn’t want…commit.. so I think…now! Okay?”

“What?” I shake my head and point to my ears. She finally lets go of my arm. I take a couple steps away and turn back to the table, only to find myself way too close to a waiter with a tray full of shots. I throw up my hands instinctively and catch the edge of the tray. The waiter grasps the tray tighter, but he’s a half a second too late – the tray wobbles violently and several of the shots fall over and splash down the front of his light blue shirt.

I clap my hands over my mouth. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! Oh my word, I’m such an idiot. I’ll pay for them! I swear!”

The waiter sighs, closes his eyes, and steadies the tray. When he opens his eyes, he looks down at his soggy shirt and chuckles.

Chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not the first time I’ve spilled tonight.” He sets the tray down on the nearest table and, keeping one hand on the tray, uses the other to wring his shirt out as best he can. He corrects the overturned glasses and then hefts the tray again. When he looks back at me again, I try to smile and end up grimacing.

“I’m seriously so, so sorry. Are you sure I can’t pay for the ones I knocked over?”

“It’s really not a big deal, but if you feel the need to make up for it, you can have coffee with me tomorrow.”

“Wh-what?” I stutter. That is absolutely not what I expected. “You’re joking, right?”

“It’s Scott, actually, but I respond to pretty much anything.”

The song ends and the next one is much quieter, and I feel Liv walk up behind me. She’s holding two more glasses, and I hope they’re not the same ones we abandoned on the table just a couple minutes ago. “You’re funny.” Her voice is full flirty now, and I can practically see her flashing her biggest, glossiest smile at Scott. I aim an elbow at her side and almost succeed in spilling our drinks, too, but Liv pulls back just in time. “Andi would totally love to get coffee with you. Wouldn’t you, Di?” This time it’s Liv’s elbow that finds my back.

I cough. “Um, well, I…”

Scott’s smile falters a little. “Look, I totally didn’t mean that you have to, because of the shots. You definitely do not actually owe me anything. I’d just really like to take you to coffee. That’s all.”

I can feel Liv’s breath on my neck as she leans in and whispers, “Say yes, dumbass.”

“Endearing,” I mutter back. To Scott, I say, “Um, maybe? When?”

“Ten work? At the Cheshire Cat?”

Liv answers for me. “Sounds awesome,” she purrs.

Scott grins and walks off with his tray. “See you tomorrow, Andi,” he calls over his shoulder.

As soon as he disappears around the corner, I whip around and glare at Liv. “What the hell was that?”

“I was being your wing-woman!” She’s beaming at me.

“I can’t go out with him!”

“First of all, hell yes you can. But you’re not going out, you’re getting coffee. It’s like a pre-going out going out. Secondly, why would you not want to go out with him? He’s hot.”

I don’t disagree with her about his hotness. He’s definitely a good looking guy. “Liv! I am trying to get over David, remember? That’s kind of why we’re here. I just got out of a long relationship. I’m not exactly ‘ready to mingle’ yet.” I feel my stupid, pointless tears welling up again and I cross my arms, angry at Liv but more angry at myself for wanting to cry.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve got to get back on that horse, Di.”

“Bad metaphor.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you’re really a girl, or if you’re a robot sent from the future.”

“I am programmed to serve,” Liv says in a mechanical voice, then laughs and hands me one of the drinks she’s holding. “Someone cleared our table, but I got you another.”

I’m relieved she got fresh drinks, but I can’t let the subject change. “I seriously cannot go out on another date. I just broke up with David the day before yesterday.” I take a long drink and splutter a little. Liv always orders drinks extra strong.

“Two whole days. And you dumped him, so why are you worried about this? It’s just coffee.”

“Because we dated for two and a half years. Because I really did love him. Because, in case you’d forgotten, since you’re apparently losing your mind, David works at the Cheshire Cat.”

“Oh, shoot, I totally forgot he works there…”

“You’re the worst friend ever.”

“Whatever, you totally love me.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. I turn back to our table, but it’s now occupied by a couple who is all over each other. Every table in the bar is full, so Liv and I head to the patio and lean against the railing. It’s the perfect summer evening; a cool breeze is blowing, the stars are out, and it smells vaguely of rain. The Horse of a Different Color is nestled between a closed bank and a parking garage, and the patio looks out towards the beach.

“Seriously, Liv, I don’t think I’m ready for another…anything, not so soon after David.”

“You think too much.” She takes a swig of her drink and I can see her winking at someone over the rim.

“Good lord.”

“What?”

“Can you stop flirting with everyone for just like three seconds? You also just got out of a relationship, you know.”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t need a reminder. But Randy and I only went out like three times over two months, so I’m not super broken up about it.”

“The empty tubs of chocolate cherry ice cream in your trash would beg to differ, girl.”

Liv sighs and sets her glass on the railing. “Chocolate helps. Alcohol helps. And seeing other very attractive single men really, really helps.” She winks at me and points towards the door. “You don’t have to go out with him, but he seems really nice, and he’s smokin’ hot, and you seriously need someone other than David taking up all your brain space.”

I lean my elbows on the rail and rest my chin in my hands. “I know.”

“He was kind of a jerk.”

“I know.”

“You deserve better.”

“Do I?”

Liv nudges me and joins me, leaning her elbows against the railing. “Yeah, for sure. David was a great boyfriend for like, a year, maybe? Then he just made you miserable. You need to get over him.”

“But I don’t want to just rebound and get stuck in another terrible relationship or something.”

“Then don’t. Go out with Hottie McBartender, maybe make out just a little, and then tell him you’re just not that into him, or that you’re still getting over someone, and walk away.”

“I’m totally going to ruin this bar if I date and ditch the bartender.”

She shrugs. “There are other bars.”

“Alright, you’re not totally the worst.” She grins. I dab fresh tears from my eyes. I turn around and peer into the bar. “So, who’ve you got your eyes on tonight?”

“Oh, lord help me. Who do I not have my eyes on tonight? For the first time in months, every single guy here is ridiculously good looking.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, a devilish grin taking over.

“That’s because, for the first time in months, you’re single and can actually say that out loud.”

“Touché, my friend. It’s true.” She points her glass towards a guy in a light grey sweatshirt standing with a group of people. “Grey Hoodie is mighty fine tonight.”

“He’s always mighty fine. He’s also always here, which is weird. Maybe he’s stalking you.”

“Maybe we should find out his name at some point. We can’t keep calling him Grey Hoodie forever.”

“Good plan. I bet you could get his name and probably his number, easy.” I’m about to add something else, but right then, Grey Hoodie steps out of the way and his friend comes into view. “Holy crap.” I turn around quickly, slouching down and wrapping my free hand around my head.

“Oh, sh…what the hell is he doing here? How does he know Grey Hoodie?”

“These are not the questions you should be asking, dude,” I whisper.

“Oh, right. How do we get out of here?” She swings her head from side to side, looking for a way off the patio without going back inside and risking David seeing us.

“I thought there was a gate over there,” I say, barely moving to point towards the side of the building that borders the bank.

“Nope. Nada. Craaaap. He’s walking this way.”

“What?” I gasp and try to get out of sight of the doorway.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet, but dude.” Liv grabs my hand and pulls me toward the parking garage. “How good are you at jumping fences?”

“Right now? I might have secret ninja abilities.”

We abandon our drinks and climb over the unreasonably high fence into the tiny alley between the parking garage and the bar. Right as I pull my leg over and stand up straight, David and about three other guys walk out onto the patio. Liv and I duck and practically waddle out of the alley into the grage. As soon as we’re out of sight of the bar, we both start laughing semi-hysterically.

“Oh god, we look insane,” Liv wheezes.

“I certainly feel insane, so it’s only fitting I should look it, too.” I clutch my side and laugh harder, doubling over.

Liv’s dark blond hair is slightly wild but her tiny dress still looks immaculate. My shirt has wrapped around me weird, somehow caught in my skinny jeans. I correct my shirt and brush the dirt from the fence off as we regain our composure.

Liv glances around, then back toward the bar. “Okay, problem.”

I follow her gaze around the garage. “Well, that’s not ideal.”

The only door in and out of the garage is closed – a very solid-looking metal garage door has been pulled down and padlocked from the outside, locking us in. The alley ends in a probably fifteen-foot metal fence with vicious-looking barbed wire at the top. The only way out is back through the bar, meaning scaling the fence again and possibly running into David and his friends on the patio.

“Well heck.” Liv leans against the concrete wall of the parking garage. “Why would they make a parking garage with only one entrance?”

“Just a guess, but probably to keep this exact situation from ever happening,” I sigh. “We have to go back to the bar.”

“Or,” Liv bites one of her nails and gestures wildly with her other hand, “We could wait here until the bar closes and then…yeah, you’re right, we have to go back.”

I have a mental image of us breaking into the bar after it closes to get back to our car, setting off alarms, and getting arrested. “Damn it.”

We turn back toward the fence separating the bar and parking garage. It’s about eight feet tall, so we can’t see over it, but we press against the wood and listen for voices on the bar patio. I can’t make out any words, but every now and then I hear a bark of laughter or a deep voice. I’m about to give Liv a boost so she can start climbing over the fence when David’s all-too-recognizable voice rings out clearly.

He’s talking about me.

And I don’t mean in an oh-my-gosh-he’s-talking-about-me-yay kind of way. Liv and I lock eyes as he practically yells to his friends about what a terrible girlfriend I was.

“I mean, god, she was so needy! Every time we hung out” – excuse me, hung out? We dated for two and half years – “she just bitched about how awful her job was and how she needed sleep and needed a raise and ‘babe, rub my feet’ and she just wouldn’t ever shut up, like ever.”

My tears prickle again. Liv grabs my wrist in a vice-like grip, her neon orange nails digging into my skin. I watch her mouth tighten into a thin line. I’m not sure if I’m scared of her or if I want to unleash Angry Liv on David. She looks like she’s about ready to do some serious damage. I blink my tears back.

“Oh and her stupid friend! Guys, if I ever date someone like that idiotic Liv character, just shoot me in the face. What a hot mess. I mean, really hot, but holy hell her life is a disaster. That woman would drive a therapist to drink!”

My stomach drops, my tears evaporate, and I suddenly forget everything I ever liked about David. No one messes with my friends.

I rip Liv’s hand off my wrist and practically throw myself up and over the fence, landing in a small, slightly less-than-graceful heap in the exact middle of the group of douche bags surrounding David. King Douche Bag himself. I pick myself up off the ground as they all gawk, dust myself off, and straighten my shirt.

Then I punch David right in his stupid gigantic nose.

“What the hell?” He reels back, dropping his whiskey glass and clutching his nose, which has already started gushing blood. His friends scream like little girls, a couple run into the bar, and one runs to help David, offering a pathetically small single cocktail napkin for his nose and shirt.

“Shit!” I only have about two seconds to enjoy David’s pain before my own sets in. Punching someone, as it turns out, is extremely painful. My hand is throbbing and I’m pretty sure I cracked a knuckle against David’s face. I hop up and down, waving my hand through the air, not sure what to do.

Liv’s heels appear next to me on the patio, with the rest of her quickly following, dropping down the fence to a graceful crouch before she straightens and surveys the scene.

“Nicely done, Andi!” She proffers her hand for a high-five, then chortles at David’s swollen nose and eyes and pushes through his friends to stand in his line of sight. She puts one finger on his sternum and pushes him back. “That’s what you get, jackass.” She pivots, tossing her hair over her shoulder before walking back to me, her expression the epitome of smug.

“Thanks,” I can’t stop giggling, then wanting to cry, then laughing again. “I think I need some ice,” I say, massaging my fist. “I’m pretty sure I broke my hand.”

“Worth it,” Liv nods.

“Did someone say they needed some ice?” A voice asks behind me. I swivel to see Scott holding a Ziploc bag full of ice and a couple towels.

Before I can say anything, David practically barks at Scott. “Over here, man.” His voice sounds muffled and stuffy. I grin.

Scott completely ignores him, draping one of the towels around the bag of ice and handing it to me. “Wrap it around your hand, it’ll help with swelling.” I take it and thank him profusely. “Don’t mention it,” he says, and casually tosses the second towel in David’s general direction. “So what exactly happened here?”

“Andi punched a jagweed, is what happened,” Liv responds.

“Any particular reason? Did he hurt you?” Scott asks, eyebrows wrinkling in concern.

“In a manner of speaking? He’s my ex,” I explain. “And he was talking some serious shit about me and my friend.” I use my free hand to gesture to Liv. Scott nods and turns to the group of guys.

“Alright, fellas, sounds like it’s time to leave. I can call you a cab, or an ambulance, but you can’t be here anymore.”

The guys look shocked. A couple of them swear loudly, and David points at his bleeding nose. “Seriously, dude? She punched me! I didn’t do anything! Kick her out!”

“You heard me, guys. Out.” Scott acts like David never spoke. He walks over, opens the door to the bar, and shoos the guys into the bar. He walks in behind them, but then comes back out a minute later. “You gonna make it, tiger?” He grins at me.

Okay, Liv wins. He’s cute.

“I’m good, yeah. Thank you for that, by the way,” I point to the door. “He was right, though. You should probably kick me out, too. At the very least.”

Scott raises his eyebrows. “Nah, that’s no good.”

“And why is that?”

“Because, if I kicked you out, then you’d be all mad and wouldn’t come here anymore, and wouldn’t get coffee with me tomorrow.” He grins. Slick. I see Liv edge towards the bar door. She mouths at me over Scott’s shoulder, “HE’S HOT” before slipping back into the bar, leaving us alone on the patio.

“Oh, yeah, about that…” I peter off.

His grin falls. “Oh, no, I get it, it’s fine--.”

“No, I definitely still want to go to coffee tomorrow. It’s just that, um, that guy I punched in the face and you kicked out of the bar? He works at the Cheshire Cat.”

“Ooh, yikes, better not go there, then. Good call.” He drums his fingers across his chin thoughtfully. “How about Jo’s, we make it breakfast, and no ex-boyfriends allowed?”

I laugh and nod. “Agreed!” I stick out my hand jokingly. “Shake on it?”

Scott grabs my hand and shakes, then pulls back as I wince.

“And maybe no handshakes, at least until after my hand heals from that punch.”

We both laugh, and for the first time in a long time, I find myself excited for a date.