She’s very convincing, and I consider ducking underneath the table to have a look. What is happening? Is she hiding a smoking-hot guy under there? Nope, nothing.
“Seriously, guys? I don’t think this is really necessary.”
“Pipe down, Kaylee. Let me finish, okay?” Fi has a flair for the dramatic. It’s one of the reasons I love her. She’s a force of nature with her fierce blue eyes and long dark hair blowing in the breeze.
I wait for her to continue. And I’m very curious, because I can’t help but wonder what the hell a love life intervention is.
That’s when Angie takes over, a grin on her face as well. “My prescription for a disastrous love life rut is a very sexy table dancer.” She looks around the room as if a hot table dancer is about to jump out from behind one of the nearby palm trees. All three of us swivel our heads around, but I still don’t see anything.
After a moment, Angie turns her attention back to us and laughs. “But apparently he’s not here yet, so let’s order another round.”
Angie owns her own veterinary practice. She might have an easy smile and look like a goofball with her blond hair in a loose bun and a yellow tank top. But she is wicked smart and as intense as they come. I have the best friends in the world. I wake up every morning grateful for them and today is no exception.
“I hope you guys didn’t go to a lot of trouble for this. Really, I’m okay.”
Fi eyes me with a look of concern. “Seriously, it’s been too long, girl. Also, it’s not just that there are no guys, there’s no trouble. No drama.” She shakes her head. “It’s not like you.” She grabs my hand. “We’re worried. But we want you to know that we are here for you.”
“Noted,” I grin. Maybe a love life intervention will be fun after all. “Did you guys really get me a table dancer?”
“You’re about to find out.” Fi answers.
We settle into a comfortable silence as we wait for the next round of drinks or the table dancer that Angie and Fi ordered, whichever comes first. I can’t help but zone out watching the waves crash onto the shore while I nibble on a delicious mozzarella stick.
Maybe my love life is a hot mess, but at least I’m still here living the dream by the ocean. I have big goals for the future, goals that suffered a recent catastrophic setback, but goals just the same. Even if they seem far off right now.
“Earth to Kaylee. Come back to us, Kaylee,” Angie teases.
I turn back to face her and Fi. I hold up a hand. “I do solemnly swear to start getting into more trouble.” I laugh.
“And we are here to encourage that kind of behavior,” Fi answers. “That is why we invited Paolo.” She raises both eyebrows at me playfully.
I swivel my head around again looking for this Paolo person, but I still don’t see anybody.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Fi says, dragging her chair backward away from the table. “C’mon, guys. Bring your chairs back here with mine.”
Angie and I follow Fi’s lead and soon we are sitting away from the table but enjoying the fantastic view of the beach beyond. An air of excitement surrounds us and people at nearby tables stare at us, but we ignore them.
Just then, a bare-chested man in a grass skirt whooshes by all of us and leaps onto the table. Ladies all around the bar area start to clap and cheer.
Fi stands up again. “Ladies, gentlemen, and especially Kaylee,” Fi points at me, probably for Paolo’s benefit, “I’d like to present Paolo.”
Paolo looks like he’s in his early twenties. A little younger than me. As I stare along with everyone else, I can’t help but notice his muscled, bronzed skin, boyish smile, and lots and lots of oil rubbed onto his upper torso. His chest is particularly impressive by the light of the tiki torches.
He has two small torches in his hands. He places one of them in his mouth while he pulls a lighter out of somewhere in his grass skirt. Impressive. It has pockets?
I can’t help but worry about him lighting his own personal mini fires when he’s already oiled up. It seems like a recipe for disaster.
And as to Fi’s earlier point, it’s not my fault that under most circumstances trouble finds me naturally. It’s not like I live a carefree existence without overthinking and worrying about things like sexy, oiled-up men catching on fire on the table in front of me.
Why can’t I just enjoy the moment and spend five minutes not worrying about the future? Obviously, I have been seriously overthinking everything, or I wouldn’t be in the middle of my own love life intervention.
I resolve to enjoy tonight and go with it. That decided, I return my attention to the table and smile up at Paolo just as he gets the second mini torch lit.
It’s time for the show. Paolo’s a professional, Kaylee. Let him do his thing already.
Paolo starts a song on his I-phone that sounds like rhythmic drumming before returning it somewhere in his grass skirt. I start to wonder just how many pockets that thing has. Also, I wonder where he buys them.
I tilt my head, trying to get a better look at the grass skirt. Because of the pockets. Then it dawns on me that instead of looking for pockets, everybody around me probably assumes that I’m staring at his crotch.
Mercifully, I’m able to break out of my interior monologue just in time to see Paolo point down at me as he starts swiveling his hips to the beat. Okay, he’s really good at his job.
I watch, mesmerized, as he shakes and shimmies that oiled-up body to the beat of the drums. He has short dark hair and double dimples. He’s super-hot and he knows it.
More catcalls ring out and
