I arrive at the Fox and Hound early, head straight to our usual place, and toss my heavy bag full of bachelorette party plans and tentative agendas onto the table. It’s an impromptu get-together on a Thursday night, mainly to discuss our plans for Josie.
Jayne’s talking on her cell phone. She blushes when she sees me, and I surmise she’s talking to Stacy. She insists they’re just friends, but I see how they look at each other. She quietly ends the call and flips open the ideas book I’ve created for Josie’s bachelorette party. Dinner service hasn’t begun and the place is quiet. I’m nervous about seeing Jake, dread a confrontation, so I naturally avoid looking at the bar. But I know I can’t sit with my friends and make chitchat while this hangs over me. Irritated, I pull from that emotion rather than my fear. I remember those feelings of intimidation and powerlessness. It’s now or never.
“Paisley—” she starts.
I hold up my hand. “Hold on, there’s something I need to do first before I lose my nerve. Do I have any lipstick?” I bare my teeth. If I’m going to do this, I’m at least going to look good doing it.
She shakes her head, looking at me with a wide-eyed gaze, questioning. I take a deep breath, stare at my fingernails, take a second breath, and do a quick scan toward the bar. Part of me hopes he won’t be here. When I see him, my heart stutters, races, and I dig what nails I have left into my palms. Jake’s back is to me. I’m pretty confident he hasn’t seen me come in the door. He’s too busy leaning over the bar toward the same blonde he nuzzled on our first date, his hand on her shoulder. She’s sitting sideways on the stool and when she laughs, which is frequently, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and leans toward his arm.
It’s taken me three days to gather up my courage and proceed with my plan. If my divorce from Trevor and over a year of therapy has taught me anything, it’s how well I play the role of victim, how willing I am to be manipulated, even if it’s subconscious. I’m not going there anymore. I’m not burying my head like I did with Trevor. Call it naïveté or being foolhardy, it doesn’t matter. The fact is I let this fuck stick Jake manipulate me while my intuition was screaming in protest. This is reminiscent of Trevor and that’s not OK with me.
I’m different now. At least I hope I am. Or trying to be.
There will be no burying my head this time, no more wishing it away. This one requires confrontation, something I’m not very good at. I used to be. Back when I was a kid, before my dad died.
I vow never to be in this position again. Wouldn’t it have been easier to not make a second date with him than to be in this current situation? I suck in a breath, curse my trembling hands, and make my way to the bar. I take a seat behind him, on the other side of the bar. Jake doesn’t hear me approach, but he does hear me pull out the bar stool.
“Be with you in a minute,” the creep says over his shoulder, not turning my way. He continues to flirt with the blonde, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger like he’s done to mine.
Asshole. What’s with men? Do they have a list of moves and this is one of them? I’m infuriated and it helps settle my nerves. Not only has Jake done this move on me, so has Hank. This pisses me off the most. Is it a move, a play? A way to reel women in? Because that’s what twirling a girl’s hair does. It makes the girl think the guy is completely into her and is sweet enough to do something as girlie as twirling their hair.
Next time I see Hank Lancaster I’m punching him in the gut. Hard.
From my position at the bar, the breathy sound of their whispers reaches me, but not the words. The blonde gets red-faced and even more flirty. I look back at Jayne and see both Josie and Kenley have arrived and are watching me. I put my finger to my lips.
Jake is slow to move away, letting her hair slip through his fingers. The player Josie was talking about is so obvious now. His moves are smooth and perfect. He flirts like a professional. The blonde gets up and heads toward the restrooms. That’s when Jake turns around.
“Paisley. Baby.” He glides toward me in the hip-thrusting way gigolos do and leans over to give me a kiss. I turn my head in time for it to land on my left cheek.
“Who’s your friend?” I keep my question mild, not that I care. Not that I don’t already know. What I’d seen on our first date and today is enough information for me. Yet, I want to see how he reacts.
“Where? Who?” He gets doe-eyed.
“The girl you were just talking to. I could swear I’ve seen her before and am trying to place it.” I gave him what I hope is a quizzical look, while I tap my left temple as if I’m struggling.
“What girl? I don’t know what you are talking about.” He attempts what I’m guessing is a quick diversion. “What’s the plan for this weekend? You come up with a surprise for me like I asked? Hey, you talked to Josie, right, about the wedding?”
It’s pretty astounding, his audacity. I suppose I should introduce this guy to my ex. They seem to have some things in common, one being they think I have the intelligence quotient of a doorknob. Anger takes over. It fuels me.
“There is no plan this weekend, Jake, and your surprise is this: I don’t want to see you again and you aren’t going to Josie’s wedding. Surprise!” I smile and do jazz hands beside my face.
Damn, I should have ordered drinks first. What if he jacks them up or does something terrible like spitting in them?
Jake’s eyes get squinty as he stares at me. He reaches out and grasps both of my upper arms and wrenches me up and against the bar. Only the tips of my toes touch the bar-stool rung.
“I thought I told you I wanted to go to Brinn’s wedding.” His words are a snarl. He twists his hands, causing my arms to burn.
“I can’t imagine why. You don’t even know Brinn.” I try hard not to flinch, and I curl my left hand into a fist. If I hit upward, my left will have to do the work because he’s leaning toward my dominant arm. It’s a choice of damage over power should I decide to punch him. He leans in closer.
“Everyone knows Brinn MacRae. I’ve been trying to get hired on with him for a year now. I want to be in on this company from the start-up. This is my one chance. My last chance.” He squeezes harder.
Ahh. Now I know what this is about. I’m such an idiot. I’m a pawn in a game, a way around an obstacle. I want to kick him in the man bits.
“You want to let go of my arms before I clobber you?” I say it as if it’s a light request of no consequence, though my heart is racing and nothing about this moment feels remotely light.
“You want to rethink not taking me to this wedding.”
Whoa. Did he just threaten me? I jerk my arms up, break free, and slide back onto the stool. My arms burn from his release. I continue to hold his stare, refusing to blink.
“You come near me or my friends again and so help me God—”
“What are you gonna do?” He pulls out a tea towel and begins to wipe down the bar, casual-like.
“I’ll turn your nut sack into an evening bag, and I’ll take it to Josie’s wedding. At least a part of you’ll get to go.” I don’t crack a smile. “Push me. I dare you.” He breaks eye contact first. I slide off the stool and walk away. I want to run to the bathroom and cry. I want to call Hank and have him beat up Jake. I want to kick myself for being stupid. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he does push me, but it sounds good. Can you even make a purse from a nut sack?
On wobbly legs, I walk to the table where Kenley, Josie, and Jayne sit waiting, and take a seat facing the bar. I want to see if the guy spits in my drinks. On second thought, I don’t think I’ll be ordering drinks. Regardless, I’m too afraid to turn my back to him.
“Are you OK? What happened there?” Kenley leans in to ask.
“I had to hold Josie back,” Jayne says.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I tell them with a smile, putting on a brave front in case Jake is looking.
“He was only going out with me to get to Josie’s wedding. It seems he is...desperate to work for Brinn and he thought if he went to the wedding, he would be able to get in.” Boy, I could use a drink. My hands tremble. I push them under my legs to steady them and look at Josie.
“Desperate. Ha. He’s been trying to buy into the company. Even started some rumor about shoddy work at the hangar and tried to ruin Brinn’s reputation. He crashed Brinn’s meeting in Ft. Lauderdale last week.”
I stare openmouthed at her. Is she, or is she not my friend? “Why didn’t you fucking tell me this?”
“Now, Paisley, calm down.” Jayne is always the mediator.
“No, I won’t calm down.” It’s difficult keeping my voice very low. “He’s crazy and you let me go out with him.” Incredible. Well, she can be one bridesmaid short.
“I told you he was crazy right off the bat. I didn’t know about this stuff until yesterday when Brinn told me. He wasn’t sure it was Jake until he showed up in Ft. Lauderdale. He wouldn’t have said anything except he knew I worked with him. When I mentioned you were seeing him, he told me the whole story. I was gonna tell you tonight,” she says in one crazy-long breath.
We reach across the table to hold each other’s hand.
“I’m sorry, Paisley, had I known sooner, I would’ve said something. You know I would’ve, right?” Josie says.
“It’s all right. I—”
“Oh, dear. Look at your arms.” Jayne covers her mouth with her hands.
Large red welts are rising on my arms. On the back, there are clear finger marks.
“I owe you an apology as well. That...that...” Jayne points to my chest. “Mark he gave you. I thought you gave him permission.” She looks horrified. “Oh, Paisley, I’m so very sorry, darling. Now I realize what he was doing. Jake’s not only a creep, he’s a sexual predator. I have to tell Mum.”
Jayne leaves before I’m able to stop her. I explain the details to Josie and Kenley, and we decide to move our get together to a different place. If I don’t leave soon, I may lose my ever-loving mind.
Jayne comes back after a few minutes. “They’re going to sack him,” she explains. “We should leave.”
We gather our stuff and walk out. I don’t even look back. I take in a deep breath once we get outside and try to calm myself.
“You know, I have an idea.” Josie pulls out her phone and begins to dial. “Listen up, girls. You’re going to like this. And if not, too bad. It’s my last wish as a single girl.”
* * * *
We circle the apartment complex for the third time, and Josie giggles.
“Shhh,” Kenley whispers.
“Who’s gonna hear us? We’re in a car with the windows up,” says Jayne. “Move your elbow, Heather, it’s in my side.”
My three friends sit scrunched in the back of Josie’s Porsche. After hearing Josie’s plan, we tried to talk her out of it, but she can be quite convincing. The others capitulated. I was the most resistant. I used Heather as an excuse, saying it would be unfair to leave her out so we should scrap the idea. Because stars line up for Josie Woodmere, a few quick phone calls later, Doug is watching Heather’s son and Heather is crowded in the back of a Porsche coupe.
“Remind me why we took your car again?” Heather asks.
“These things weren’t designed for people to ride in the back.” Kenley shifts to allow Heather, who is sitting in the middle on the hump, more room.
“Not three people,” Heather says.
“No, it’s made for shopping bags. I told you we should have stopped for Brinn’s SUV.” Josie gives me a pointed look.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here.” I point to the row of cars parked in front of the apartment. I was the one who pushed to do this sooner than later. I like to get my purposeful acts of stupidity over early so I can spend the rest of the day beating myself up over it.
“Which one is his car?”
“Kenley, honestly, you don’t have to whisper.” Jayne sighs.
“The black one is the douche bag’s car,” Josie chimes in. She circles past it a few times.
His license plate reads NO1BETR. It can’t be denied. I’m a dumbass.
I look at my watch and at my girlfriends. We’re dressed in black and have dark hats covering our heads. Camouflage paint streaks Josie’s face.
Perhaps we’re out of our minds. It’s way past the witching hour, some of us have drank way too much, thankfully, they’re in the backseat, and I’ve spent an obscene amount of money on toilet paper, shoe polish, eggs, shaving cream, and glitter. The more time passes, the more this idea smells.
Josie eases the car into a spot about a block away and we sit. No one speaks as she turns off the engine.
“Make sure you take your foot off the brake,” Kenley whispers.
“Duh,” says Josie.
“We stay together, cross the grass patch there in front, and it’s the third car on the left,” Josie tells us. “Got it?” In a past life I’m guessing she did military ops.
“The jeep?” asks Jayne.
“Your other left, Jayne, the Mercedes,” I tell her.
“When can we go?” Heather asks.
“I have to pee.” Finally, Kenley uses a normal voice.
“A few more minutes, ladies, and it will be all systems go.” Josie reaches across me to pull a Swiss Army knife out of her glove box.
“Judas Priest, Josie, what do you plan to do with that?” I ask.
She shrugs and gives us what I assume is the signal to go. We scramble from the car; some of us fall out. Kenley and I make our way to the hatchback and pull out the supplies. I hand out items to each of my friends and we follow Josie up the side of the parking lot, across the grassy patch, stopping every few cars until we reach the one we want.
Jake’s car.
Kenley snags a roll of toilet paper out of my arms and disappears around the side of another car. I’m confused for a moment until the sound of liquid hitting the pavement gives me clarity.
Josie and I grimace. She begins to shake a can of shaving cream and writes something on his windshield. I blush when I read it. We roll, we crack eggs on the car, we glitter, and we spray shaving-cream profanity on the glass before we take a step back to admire our handiwork.
I walk to the back of the car and see Josie squatting by the rear driver side tire, Swiss army knife open and poised to strike.
“Holy shit, Josie!” I cry in my loudest whisper. I reach out and grab her wrist. “I’m not that mad.”
“This isn’t for you. This is for Brinn,” she whispers.
“Look, I know you’re upset, too, but this moves into serious vandalism. Don’t stoop to his level.”
I let go and walk away. She folds up the knife with a click and picks up her shaving-cream can. She walks to the windshield and places a Ziploc bag with a white note inside under the wiper blade.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“Insurance,” she says.
“Insurance?”
“So there’s no retaliation.” Her face is deadpan.
Somewhere in the distance, a door to an apartment opens and five girls go running for their lives.
I jump over Kenley’s puddle of pee, and Heather runs through it with a cry of disgust. Josie slides across the grass, wet with dew, and still beats us to the car. It’s a free for all as Heather, Jayne, and Kenley fight each other to be the first to get in. I jump in through the hatch we left open and hold it down but not latched. Josie pulls away, with the lights off I hope, as I pray we get away.
Josie pulls into a parking lot about a mile away, I let go of the hatch when she says my name and jump out of the back, run to the passenger door, and squish up front with Jayne. We’re about five miles away when someone starts laughing.
“It smells like piss in here,” says Kenley.
“You couldn’t have gone around the building,” Heather cries in disgust.
More laughter fills the car, the tension breaks, and someone questions Josie on her colorful language.