I’ve been all of these things.
And more.
But what’s important?
They need me to be them.
“Fuck it.” I dial.
Sam and Zoe shout, “Yay!!!”
Adrenaline blurs my vision, and I flat-line for a second as I hear him say, “Hello?”
Swallowing hard, I somehow manage not to sound strangled. “Hi. Just wanted you to know I’m at The Local with my girls. We uh…I’d love to see you here.”
Silence.
Can’t hear any breathing.
Nobody is breathing.
I glance to a frozen Sam, a stricken Zoe, then close my eyes, adrenaline painful in my veins.
His voice goes deeper, hesitant. “We’re doing this?”
I’m not sure what ’this’ is, so at first I say nothing. “Um…yeah. I guess we are.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Fine”
“See ya soon.”
With a thudding pulse I hear him hang up.
Oh fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Three
LEXI
Ralphie grins, “Aren’t I a lucky guy?” as House Three mounts empty barstools dead center. “Dart board is open.”
Because my tongue’s not working, Sam stiffly smiles, “We just need a second.”
He throws out his arms. “Not that I wanna encourage you all leavin’ me!”
Leaving me.
Leaving me.
Leaving me.
Zoe picks up the charm we dropped. “Rather spend time with you, Ralphie! We see enough of each other.”
He laughs, “With how close you girls are, I doubt that last part. The first part I’ll take! What’ll you have? A pitcher?”
They look at my shrug and Sammy answers, “Sounds good. You pick.”
Leaning into my math aptitude for comfort since my emotional ineptitude is currently even more challenged than usual, I mutter, “It’s just smarter financially.”
The girls look at me.
His experienced fingers touch the more colorful logo’d draft-handles one after the other as he ponders, “My choice, eh? Hmm.”
I glance past the bathrooms at the bar’s back entrance, expecting it to swing open on a thunder clap, storm clouds rushing in around Gage’s entrance.
He’s not here yet, of course since we just got off the phone. But I’m staring at it anyway — a dark hallway empty of everything except a deep sense of foreboding.
The heavy thud of a chilled and frothing pitcher turns my head. “What’d you choose?”
Zoe and Sam say in unison as they watch my reaction, “Transmigration of Souls.”
The same beer we had when Gage and I met. “Great,” I mutter, chewing my bottom lip on a head-shake.
Ralphie frowns, “Don’t like this one anymore, Lex?”
“She does!” the girls tell him.
“I do, Ralphie. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“You okay?”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
Sam touches my icy spine, and Zoe lays her tender head on my cramped shoulder. Poor Ralphie’s concern turns from the business of making his regulars happy to the personal worry that his friend is in deep shit, the likes of which he’s unaware of and doesn’t feel it’s appropriate to ask about. “You just let me know if you wanna order some food. Or hard liquor.”
My girls nod.
As he walks away, I explode, “Can we have french fries?!”
He reacts like an alien invaded me. “Sure. Yeah, Lex. French fries.”
Under my breath I gasp, “Oh God,” and leap from the barstool, quick strides for the front patio and some fresh night air. I know that, coming from Virginia Highlands, Gage’ll drive in through the back, not from Ponce like we did.
I need to pace without him knowing I’m losing my damn mind.
As I burst into a sea of patio customers, I hear a few random, “Hey Lexi”s and force my smile to familiar faces until I plant antsy boots on the cool stretch of asphalt that could use a re-paving, foundation cracking under time’s pressure.
Just like I am.
The girls aren’t far behind, with Zoe explaining, “Ralphie’s holding our spots.”
She didn’t need to say what goes without saying, but she’s nervous for me.
Samantha’s helpless arms hang at her sides. “I’ve never felt this anxious about anything!”
“Not even about Lexi and Brad?” Zoe asks.
Kicking inside a crumbling pothole, I mutter, “She knew he was a phase.”
“Really? Because I didn’t know what he was!”
Sammy and I look at Floaty-head and smile despite ourselves. But the smiles can’t last, and I remind her, “You were this anxious about Logan, Sam.”
She rubs her face, remembering well what I’m talking about. “I meant in regards to you. I’m second.”
I throw my arms around my dear baby sister, “No you’re not! You’re never second, Sammy.”
She hugs me back, while Zoe smiles at us. And fuck that. I pull our cousin in, make it a group-hug, whispering in its center, “I’m really scared, guys!”
Zoe whispers, “We’re here for you!”
“You’re not alone,” Sammy reassures, throwing in a rueful, “And if we need to toss some tables, then watch out!”
With nervous laughter and a final squeeze we separate to stand in our oh-so-familiar triangle.
“Part of me wants to run away. But it’s a small, nasty little part I don’t even recognize.”
Sammy holds up her hand, palm up, “You don’t get hurt — you’re not delicate, Lexi. Remember, you said that!”
“Turns out I hadn’t found just the right guy to rock me just the right way yet.” I poke my chest and the pothole, gaze dropped. “Had to have one who actually got me in here. You know what I figured out? Gage is like Sammy but a guy.”
“That’s so sweet!”
Zoe clasps my arm. “Gage is a keeper.”
“Stop!”
“What? If you think he’s like Sam, then you already know it.”
Closing my eyes I whisper, “I know.”
Like a sword cutting through safety comes his voice through the outdoor crowd, “Lexi?” My lips part, adrenaline slicing my veins as we all look to the front door, where he’s waiting. “Ralphie said those seats are yours?”
“Yeah, hang on a second!” I lock eyes with Zoe, then Sam. “Guess it’s time.”
Through the swarm of patio customers we head over, his narrowed crocodiles locked on me the entire time.
My girls glance back, check to see if I’m alright, but I’m staring at him. They walk in through the wood and glass door he’s holding open. “Hi Gage.” “Hey, Gage.”
“Ladies.”
Stopping in front of him, I scan his black t-shirt and black slacks, matching boots firmly set apart
