It was impossible in this life to run out of things to do.
But sitting in that bar in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming, twenty-seven-years-old, it was hitting me that the buzz of life wasn’t vibrating as forcefully as it used to. In fact, it was beginning to seem a chore to pack up, head out, settle in (this being dropping my suitcases in whatever hotel room, cabin, boat, ship, treehouse, wherever we were staying) and rushing out to face the next adventure.
Truth be told, in the life I’d been born to, it was a testament to the love of my mother and father that it had taken this long. That I hadn’t started to feel jaded at around five. What people wanted from me, what they could use me for, how they could latch on, sink their teeth in, suck me dry.
This was why there was only Lace and Bianca for me. The others we’d scraped off.
We knew.
We were all hatched from different eggs but from the same species of chick. We got the life. It had been ingrained in us.
Legacies.
In the parental department, Bianca didn’t have it as good as Lacey and me did.
But no matter what, who came, who went, around the globe and back again (and again, and again) we had each other.
And sitting in that bar, I was coming to understand in all I’d done and seen (and don’t get me wrong, it all meant something to me, it just seemed to be meaning less and less), I only had two parents who hated each other tragically slightly more than they loved each other, but they loved me, and a brother who could be an ass more often than not…
And Lace and Bianca.
And sitting in that bar, I was coming to understand I wanted more.
I just had no idea what it was because if I wanted it, I could have anything.
Not to mention, the feeling was uncomfortable.
This was because I had it all.
Not like, if someone was outside looking in, they wouldn’t get what it was like to live my life and that it could be a downer.
It wasn’t a downer.
I actually had it all. And if I didn’t have it, I had the means to get it.
Having the feelings I was having, sitting at that bar, it made me feel ungrateful.
Because in coming to understand I wanted more, I was coming to understand that I actually wanted less.
I also, right then, needed to get out of there. Not cut Lacey and Bianca’s fun short by heading back to the ranch (which meant one or the other would come back with me). Not leaving them drinking and carousing without a wingman who could keep her eye on things.
Just a breath of fresh air, out of that heat, the crush, the loud music.
Just…out.
“Lace!” I shouted across the table and, being Lacey, even with two bikers on her hook, she turned to me immediately.
“Yo!” she shouted back.
“Need a breath of fresh air,” I yelled. “You good?”
She nodded. “Good, but want me to come with?”
Again, so Lace. She had two hot guys right there ready to make her every wish their command and she would ditch them to take a breather with me.
I shook my head. “No, babe. I’ll be okay.” I glanced up at the guys then back to her. “And I’ll be watching.”
Lacey gave me a big professionally-whitened-teeth smile. Even though I’d seen it frequently and the lighting wasn’t great in that bar, it still startled me like it always did. What with her smooth, milk chocolate skin (a perfect mix of goodness given to her by her Brazilian mom and African American dad), high cheekbones, shining black hair and almond-shaped tawny eyes.
She was the full package, petite, a lot of curves, a lot of hair, good genes from top to toe.
But even if her folks poured good into her since birth from the genes and then some, I still felt the abundance of beauty she had inside was all Lacey.
“I’ll be watching too,” she yelled back.
There it was, as ever. Proof of that beauty.
I gave her a short wave and slid off my stool.
Then, trying not to catch anyone’s eyes, I made my way through the crowded bar toward the hallway that led to the restrooms, kitchen and double doors that remained open to the outside for air flow. They also remained open because there was a big patio out there (with another bar) for the smokers and folks who wanted to have a conversation without shouting.
I turned that way and saw in the hallway were three tables. One was cluttered with plastic cups and bottles, clearly a set down point for people to drop their drinks so they could hit the dancefloor. The middle one had three girls and four bikers, by the looks of it from my experienced eye they were in the throes of getting-to-know-you in order to later get-to-know-you.
The last table, a little removed and shoved into a corner, was vacant.
I moved that way, head coming up to scan the area in case someone had the same intent and I had to hurry to cut them off at the pass.
And that was when I saw him.