“I had clearly defined for seventeen years. It wasn’t perfect but it was pretty damned good. So, yeah, I want defined.”
“Not fuckin’ with you, Violet, swear to God, but Cal’s not about defined.”
I knew that but it sucked having it confirmed.
“He’s given me that impression,” I told Mike.
Mike’s jaw got hard and he looked at the bar as my drink was placed there by Darryl. He pulled out his wallet, slid a bill on the bar, gave Darryl a curt nod and I took the final sip of my last drink before I placed the empty by my new one.
“Mike?” I called and his eyes cut to me.
“Yeah?”
I took in a deep breath and asked, “How are you with defined?”
“I liked defined. My wife liked designer handbags that I couldn’t get her on a cop’s salary, our credit card bills were out the roof, month after month, no matter how much I talked to her about it. The house, not big enough. The car, not sporty enough. She married a cop, don’t know what she thought she’d get, ‘specially when she also didn’t think she needed to work. So her definition of defined wasn’t mine. But yeah, in the end, defined is a fuckuva lot better than not defined, as long as both people get where they’re goin’.”
“I like designer handbags,” I told him.
“Great,” he muttered.
“I work though.”
He looked at me.
“And, well, obviously, I like my daughters to eat and maybe, if I can swing it, my youngest to have the dog she’s always wanted and that’s more important than a handbag.”
He kept looking at me then said softly, “Yeah.”
“And, by the way, all women like designer handbags,” I told him, grabbed my drink and took a sip then finished, “Just to warn you. If you’re lookin’ for a woman who doesn’t like them, well… you’re kinda screwed.”
He grinned and asked, “They all need one a month?”
I choked on my drink again, luckily not to the point I had to lean over and deep breathe then asked, “She bought one a month?”
“I won’t get into the shoes.”
“Sure, I’d like one a month, if I was Ivana Trump.”
“I ain’t Donald.”
“They’re divorced too.”
He burst out laughing and I laughed with him, this laughing felt good, I hadn’t laughed like that in awhile nor smiled that much. The laughing was especially good since his face was even more handsome when he was laughing.
We talked awhile then Cheryl came back, coming up empty on her cruise. She started to relay the information about how all the men in the bar were losers and Mike wisely decided it was time to move on. He got my address, my phone number and told me he’d be at my house the next night to pick me up at seven thirty.
He also leaned in, his hand curled around my neck and he touched my mouth with his then his lips went to my ear and he whispered, “It’ll be better tomorrow night, sweetheart, promise.”
Then before I could say a word, which I didn’t get it together to do since I was concentrating on a little flutter in my stomach, he let me go and left.
“I’m livin’ in this town a year, I got nothin’. You’re here a few months, you got two hot guys all over you,” Cheryl bitched while sitting down then she shouted, “Dee, I’m dry!”
“Cheryl, I’m screwed,” I told her. “Joe was here.”
Her eyes came to me and she said, “Sure thing, babe, saw him, why you think I tagged Mike? Mike comes in all the time, totally knew you were his type. That works out I should sell my services as a matchmaker.”
I was still letting the first part of what she said sink in. “You saw Joe?”
“Yeah, he came in while you were in the bathroom.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“And miss my chance at forcin’ the come to Jesus? No way!”
Dee put Cheryl’s drink in front of her and moved away. Cheryl put the straw to her lips and sucked up a huge sip.
“A come to Jesus?” I asked through her sip.
She put her drink on the bar and turned to me. “Yeah, he sees you gettin’ flirted with by a hot guy, he either moves to protect his property or he steps aside. Either way, you know where you stand and you know what you gotta do. Come to Jesus.”
“So, you orchestrated that?”
“Am I your friend?”
“I don’t know, it depends on if Joe’s head explodes.”
“Don’t you want it to?”
“Cheryl, you haven’t been around him when he’s pissed, he’s kinda scary.”
“He get physical?”
“Not really, unless you mean sexually physical then the answer is yes, a lot, but that’s the good part.”
She grinned. “I hope it does. If it doesn’t, Mike’s cool, he’s also nice, he’s also hot and hopefully sex with him is the good part too, so you win either way.”
She wasn’t wrong about that but somehow, it felt like she was.