“Eric,” I chided.
He said nothing. Just kept looking at me in confusion. As if I was a total stranger.
“Is this a joke?” I asked, my whole body stiffening in his hold. “Eric, it’s me. Alex.”
Nothing.
Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.
Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and hesitant smiles, etc. God. For months I’d played this moment over and over inside my mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.
I stepped back from my supposed beloved’s arms, doubt trickling through me, first a little, then a lot. Soon it was a whole damn tsunami of disbelief crushing my heart and mind. I was drowning, panic slowly but surely closing over my head. This is what came from stepping outside of your comfort zone. Bad things. Deeply shitty soul-crushing things. Why the hell had I ever left home?
“I don’t understand,” I said, voice rising in pitch and volume. “Of course you know me. We’ve been talking for months. Emailing.”
Still nothing.
“We met on Heartingdotcom. Remember?”
They were still watching me with blank stares. Eric included.
I glared back at him. “So you’ve just been stringing me along, haven’t told anyone about me, and now you’re just going to deny everything? That’s how you’re going to play this? Really?”
“Or maybe I haven’t told anyone about you because I have no idea who you are,” he countered, looking me up and down. Something close to doubt flitted across his face. “Hold up. Are you the chick I doggy-styled in the walk-in closet at that party in Spokane?” His smile somehow managed to be sympathetic, apologetic, and leering all at once. “Shit, you are, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I should have known you right away. Maybe if you’d shown me the back of your head.”
I had nothing.
“It’s just sometimes it’s hard to remember faces after a big night, you know? And I’d been mixing Flaming Blue Jesuses for them. You know, with the rum, peppermint schnapps, and peach liqueur, with the thinnest layer of tequila on top.” He licked his lips. “I really do like those.”
Slowly, I shook my head. “You didn’t dog-style me in a closet.”
“No? Are you sure?” he asked. “Can I just see the back of your head for one minute?”
“We didn’t meet at a party, Eric,” I said through gritted teeth. “Emailing. You and me. Constantly, for months.”
“Not me.”
“Yes. You.”
“Come on, that’s not even realistic.” Eric put his hands on his slim hips. “Everyone in this room knows that’s not me. My attention span just isn’t that long.”
“True,” said someone. Lots of nods from other people. And he might be persuading them, but he wasn’t fooling me.
“Right,” I shot back. “So I’ve just been, what? Imagining all of this?”
“Depends.” He smirked. “Did I start constantly emailing you around the time you went off your meds?”
“Eric,” scolded one woman. Slim, redheaded, and pregnant.
“You’re Nell.” I gave her a finger wave. “He told me about you, sent me pictures of you all and the Dive Bar.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
“He never mentioned you were expecting, though. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she said hesitantly.
Next I turned to the other redhead in the room. A tall, nicely built guy covered in ink. “And you’re Vaughan, Nell’s brother. You’re a musician. You recently got engaged to Lydia there, the lovely blonde at your side. Hi.”
“Hi.” Lydia’s lips thinned in surprise. “Huh.”
“If I’m a crazy person, how would I know these things?” I turned back to Eric, my own hands sitting on my own damn hips. “How would I know that you went to school with most of these guys? That you only lived a couple of streets away from each other when you were kids?”
Eric’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Oh my God.” A familiar gorgeous, dark-skinned woman with a head full of corkscrew curls stepped forward. “Are you one of those psychics? Mom’s always watching that shit on TV. I never believed before, but…”
“Nah, she’s a stalker,” said Eric. “Got to be. I was bound to pick one up eventually.”
“I am not a stalker.” Given how tight my fingers were rolled up into fists, however, I might soon very well be accused of assault and battery.
“Do me,” said the dark-skinned waitress. “Who am I?”
“You’re Rosie, one of the waitresses here.”
“Got it in one!” Rosie smiled. “Can you tell me anything about my future?”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not psychic.”
“Oh.” Her smile turned upside down. “That sucks.”
“What’s going on?” asked a deep, booming voice from behind us.
I spun, staring straight into the startled eyes of a man who could only be described as a blond Bigfoot, a case of beer casually hoisted on one enormous shoulder. His golden mane flowed down over his wide shoulders, a beard covering the bottom half of his face. I guess it kept him warm in the winter, but seriously. Who needed that much hair?
“Hi, bro, welcome to the crazy.” Eric slapped the big man on the back. “You didn’t happen to send me a psychic stripper for my birthday, did you?”
Dark shocked eyes fixed on me. Joe. It was his brother Joe, of course. The man was just a whole lot bigger in the flesh than I’d ever imagined. Not that I’d spent a lot of time imagining him or anything.
“What?” He shook his bearded head at Eric in confusion. “No. Of course not.”
“A stripper?” I asked in disbelief. “Seriously?”
Eric’s gaze went straight to my shoes. “You got to admit, those are some serious heels.”
He had a point. Still, I highly doubted I looked like the kind of woman who wore pasties at parties on a regular basis. Let alone as if I had any dancing skills or could even attempt to climb a pole.
“All right, enough,” ordered Nell. “I think this poor girl might be the victim of identity theft.”
I froze.
“Look, ah … obviously something’s up here. Why don’t we take this into the back office?” said Joe. “Somewhere a little more private. We don’t want to embarrass her.”
“I think I’ve pretty much reached peak embarrassment overload,” I said, giving him a forced smile. “But thanks.”
Strange, the man’s skin, the bits visible, at least, had turned a kind of ashen color. He honestly looked ready to hurl at any moment. That or faint.
“You okay, man?” asked Vaughan, also noticing.
“Yeah, yeah. Never better.” It was a wonder the guy’s pants didn’t catch on fire. Even I could tell that one was a blatant lie.
“So you’ve never met Eric in the flesh before?” Nell asked. “Only online.”