It was a Friday night and Jeremy was at the club in Danville. Where it was more crowded than usual but thats because it's the weekend and it doesn't help that a lot of visitors are still there after Christmas. He's Sitting at the bar with his two best friends as he yells out his order for another beer at the waitress and pretends not to remember the fact that they slept together two months ago. That's his own fault though for sleeping around too much. The beer hits the table, condensation dripping down the edges, adding to the rings on the old wooden table top. This repetitive bullshit will be the death of him. He's bored, bored of this bar, not necessarily these people, but the things they do together. To be fair, Monty and Johnny have children at home, Monty is married to Mindy and Johnny is married to Vanessa and Coltrane just got married to Stacy. They're here for him. Because he is the last one in the group to settle down. For them, this is a quick break, a few hours out of their routine lives. It's fun for them before they go back to the true joy in their lives. Johnny takes a quick look at his phone, smiling like an idiot before he puts it face down beside his beer.
"Wife?" Jeremy asks, not meaning for the word to sound so malicious. He doesn't seem to notice, giving him a quick nod.
"You have to head home?" Jeremy asks him.
"Na," he lightly laughs, lifting the beer to his mouth. "But after the photo she sent me, I want to"
"That's the sign," Monty says to him from across the table, twisting the black band on his ring finger. "She wants you to come home, she just wants it to be your idea."
Johnny shrugs. "I don't care, I'm still going home to have sex with my hot wife. Win win."
Monty laughs, slamming his empty bottle on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his warm hand. "Too bad you got kids because I doubt you're going home to fuck. You're going home to a bed full of children cockblocking you."
"Couch it is," Jeremy says, grinning at him as he blows out a tired breath and palms his clean shaven jaw.
No one expects him to add his two cents, he's childless, single too thanks to his recent break up. Break up doesn't even seem like the right word. Absolute shit show is what he'd call that situation. Six months later and he's still not sure how to wrap his head around it. Like most nights, he'll probably hang out after they have gone home, he'll hook up with some girl, preferably a tourist whose here for the Christmas break, and hell wake up in the morning and pretend to be fan-fucking-tastic. His attention starts to wander off to the chaos in the bar, a group of old men stand at the jukebox, arms linked over their shoulders, their drunken sways make him lightly laugh. Most people here are in need of a cab, it's crowded, business is booming. As he scans the crowd, tuning out the conversation about rash cream going on beside him, he sees a familiar face and does a double take. On the other side of the room, dancing on the table, long lean legs, slim shoulders, angular features and skin white as snow. Yeah, that's Candace Flynn. They used to be best friend for as long as he can remember. She's the same, but so different. Her hair cascades in long red waves down her back, the end strands touching the curve of her ass, which is barely covered by the hem of her tight silk black slip. She's drunk as hell, hands on her body, moving into her hair. He blinks, again and again because he's not sure what the hell she's even doing here. After high school, she followed Billy to college, her boyfriend and the father of her child. As far as he was aware, she was living in LA, raising their kid while he went to UCLA doing arts and media. A whole lot of useless information but it still made him wonder what she was doing back here, dancing half naked in a bar with... he has no idea who the girls are that she's with.
"You know her?" Monty asks, gesturing at Candace.
"Yeah." He says leaving it at that.
"She looks familiar," Johnny says, squinting at her.
"You look like someone's dad." Monty says to Johnny laughing.
"I am someone's dad. Not hers though," Johnny says conspiratorially, averting his attention.
"Thank god. Where are her friends?"
He asks himself and glances back over at Candace, who's now wearing the little black slip around her hips, the bottom of her ass out there for whoever to see. She rolls her hips at the assholes cheering her on. That's when he noticed who those assholes were. Regulars at the bar. Creeps in their fifties who hang around and prey on the drunk twenty somethings. He's seen it enough to know it's not safe and the owner isn't always watching them.
"Excuse me," he grumbles, wiping the last of his beer off of his mouth. Candace had been a reckless drinker for as long as he could remember. In high school, she'd passed out the couch countless weekends, the amount of times he put a bucket beside her, checked her pulse or draped a blanket over her, were endless. Stacy and Vanessa also took part in taking good care of her, they never complained and they had a good time together but Stacy and Vanessa aren't here and the girls she's with sure as shit don't seem to care if Candace shakes her ass at half of the bar. He hasn't seen Candace in four and a half years. Which seems bizarre but their paths never crossed. After she moved they just stopped talking after a few months. Not even when it came to each other's birthdays or Stacy's or Vanessa's birthday. Every year, one of them wasn't able to make it. Despite how long it's been, he doesn't hesitate to grab her elbow and drag her toward the exit.
"What the fuck," she said and smacks him, the alcohol making her weak and uncoordinated. It isn't until there outside that she starts to panic and the darkness doesn't seem to help with the parking lot, covered in dirty snow, doesn't offer much light apart from the street lamps at the road. "Let me go," her voice trembles and he holds both of her arms so she's forced to look at him.
"Jeremy?!"
"What the hell are you doing?"
Her surprise melts into anger.
"What are you doing?" She says trying to shrug him off, tugging her arms back, it's useless.
"Where's Billy? Where's your kid? What the hell are you doing at a bar?"
She breaks out a disbelieving laugh, her bloodshot stare shooting daggers at him. "You're joking? You're joking. Jeremy, let me go. Don't be fucking weird."
"Someone around to pick you up or should I order an uber?"
It's a losing battle, she tries to rip out of his embrace and he keeps a hold, forcing her to look at him. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she takes a break from fighting him and drops her head between them, exhaling.
"Jeremy, let go of me, or I'll scream. I'm not kidding. What I'm doing here is none of your business. I haven't seen you in what, four, five years? You were always fucking over protective but this is a new level of ridiculous."
"At least I'm concerned about the parentless behavior going on in there"
"Don't," she shouts, stepping closer and staring up at him through thick long lashes.
"Do not use that phrase with me, Jeremy. Unbelievable. You have no idea what shit I'm going through right now and you have the audacity to automatically assume that I'm the one in the wrong when you don't even know the situation."
"Fine," he snaps, I won't argue with that. "You're still putting yourself in danger."
"In danger of who?" She asks, sarcasm in her tone. "Oh that right, men!"
"O. Yeah, we're the worst," he mutters, disguising his agreement as sarcasm.
They both turn at the sound of the club door opening, he keeps a hand on Candace, loose enough for her not to feel like he's holding her hostage, even though he sort of is. The volume from inside increases for a moment while Monty and Johnny file out, their coats and beanies on. The two of them exchange glances, no doubt concerned about the way he's outside, holding a drunk girl like a creep
"Help," Candace whispers, laughing to herself.
"You good man?" Monty peers between Candace and Jeremy.
"You're uh, not taking her home, right?" Monty asked
"It's not like that."
"Because she's very drunk," Monty continues, while Johnny hangs back, watching. Monty slips his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping the screen, ordering an Uber.
"It's Candace Flynn. I'm looking out for her."
"Candace?" Johnny perks up. Married or not, he thinks Candace is hot.
"Where are Stacy and Vanessa, why aren't they here with you?" Johnny asked
"Aw" Candace slurs. "I miss the girls."
"You and me both," he bites. "They'd have been dealing with this bullshit instead of me."
"You don't have to deal with me. I'm a grown woman now, Jeremy. I can look out for myself."
She didn't need to remind him she was a grown woman, he had been trying not to notice the sharp angles of her face, the loss of that adolescent roundness in her cheeks. Her perky breast and the fullness of her lower torso and hips. She'd always been lean and tall, but adulthood, and likely a baby, had given her a mature figure and damn if it didn't suit her.
"I'm going to get her home," he says to the guys, ignoring the scowl on her drunken face.
"I'll come," Monty offers.
"I'm not a fucking rapist, Monty," he says. "I can get her home without a babysitter. For fucks sakes, I know I sleep around but I'm not an animal."
He claps him on the shoulder. "I'll come man. If not for her, for you. There's no harm in having a third person witness. Should either party make claims against another, it keeps it above board."
That's the lawyer in Monty coming out. He appreciates the sentiments. He'd dealt with a lot of false accusations, domestic violence, sexual assault.
"I don't feel comfortable going anywhere with two men who can overpower me," Candace glares at them, goosebumps forming on her skin.
It hadn't occurred to him that she might be freezing in these temperatures. He quickly slipped off his coat, still wearing a hoodie underneath it.
"No thanks," she pushes it off her shoulders when he tries to drape it over her. He gapes.
"Seriously? You're going to turn down a fucking jacket. Grow up."
"Here's our Uber," Monty tells them when the headlights illuminate the car park entrance. It stops on the other side, waiting.
"Have a good night." Monty tells Johnny
"Monty," Jeremy sighs, waving to Johnny before he drapes the coat on Candace again.
"Go with him. We'll be fine." Candace nods, her loose waves cascading around her now covered shoulders.
"He's pissing me off, but he's not dangerous."
Monty hesitates, his dark brown eyes darting between the two of them. Finally, with a sigh that billows white air into the night, he relents.
"Fine. Call me if you need me though."
They clap hands, while his other hand is still clutching Candace's elbow, despite her irritation.
"Will do. Thanks, man."
"I don't remember you being this much of an asshole," Candace says, watching the Uber pull out of the lot. "In fact, quite the opposite I don't remember you being this much of a pain in the ass." She gives him a flat stare and turns around, marching back to the club door.
"Where are you going?"
Over her shoulder, she snaps, "to get my bag and tell the girls I'm leaving. Asshole."
"You got two minutes."
Her answer is the middle finger as she aggressively swings the door open and disappears inside. Not before he notices the shape of her long toned legs.
Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he goes to call Stacy. But then he thinks better of it. It's a miracle he can get past the anger and for a moment, considering Candace might be dealing with something and whether or not Stacy knows it, is none of his business. He's not getting involved further than taking her home. She comes back three minutes later, by which time the Uber is pulling into the lot. Strike two for her group of friends, none of them walked her out to see who she was going home with.
"Your girlfriends are the assholes,"
he tells her, sitting beside her in the backseat.
The burnt orange street lamps illuminate her scowl, as well as the luminous shimmer on her cheekbones.
"Not one of them wanted to make sure you weren't going home with some pervert?"
She cuts a glance at him.
"Is that not what this is? You are some pervert."
"Nice. Where the hell did the old Candace go? Hmm? You were a nice girl back then."
"Or I was a teenager who never told you to stop being a hovering asshole whenever we wanted to go out?" That shut him up.
"As if I would've been rude back then. I'm not rude now, I'm just not a pushover, Jeremy. Stop treating me like a child."
"Stop acting like one."
"I was drinking."
"And shaking your bare ass at half of Danville."
She throws herself back against the leather seats and folds her arms.
"I can't believe I'm back here. Danville."
"Why are you back here?"
"Where are we going?"
Candace peers out the window, her hair framing her face.
"To mine."
"No."
"You didn't tell me where you were staying," he said, "what address was I supposed to enter?"
She leans forward, pressing her face close enough to the perspex glass that her breath fogs it.
"Can we reroute?"
The driver nods. "Address?"
She lets him know her parents address and settles back again, the dress hitching high on her thigh, exposing the little black band of her underwear.
He looks away.
"Are you in town for a while?" He asks, hoping to diffuse the tension.
Candace doesn't say anything, she faces the window, elbow on the door jamb until the Uber pulls up in front of her parents house. It hasn't changed since the last time he gave Candace a ride here, or picked her up. Without a word, Candace gets out of the car, slams the door shut and disappears with his jacket still draped around her shoulders.
let me know your thoughts