Cheating on Myself (13 page)

“Well, hey there.” I looked up and saw the person I’d run into. Joe. Dog Hounds Joe.

“Wassup.” Cringe. I had just said wassup.

“Are you…” He gestured to the club we were standing outside of, obviously surprised to see me there. “…going to this show?”

“Yeah, I’m really into this band,” I said, kicking myself for not listening when the slouchy teens had told me who we were here to see tonight.

Joe’s face broke into a slow smile. “Really?”

I wrapped my headphones around my cell, laughing nervously. “Yeah, totes.”
Totes? Who am I?

“What are you listening to?” He grabbed my headphones before I had a chance to hide my phone inside my purse. One ear bud was tucked inside his left ear within seconds. He lifted his bushy eyebrows. “Phil Collins. Nice.”

“It’s Pandora. I didn’t pick that.”

“Baby, don’t you lose my number.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, I’m just singing along.” There was the smirk again. “Phil Collins is a true inspiration.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

Joe handed my headphones back to me. “Absolutely not. I would never be anything but completely serious with you, Stella.”

I guess it was my buzz, but this made me laugh. I should have been insulted, but instead I started cracking up. He laughed along with me.

“You seem to have lost my number,” I said lightly. “I guess you should have listened to Phil, huh?”

“I didn’t lose your number,” Joe walked alongside me as we moved toward the front door of the club. “I’ve been out of town.”

“Ah, yes. Those long distance charges on cell phones are a real bitch. Wanted to wait until you were back in town to call so it would be toll-free?” I realized I sounded like a nag, and vowed to stop being so annoying. I was trying to flirt, and this time it was coming across as bitter and bitchy instead of coy and clever. “I’m teasing,” I said, hoping to lighten my comments.

“I wanted to wait to call until we could actually go out,” he said defensively. “I’m not big on leaving messages back and forth until we figure out a day three weeks from Tuesday when we’re both available. It’s ridiculous.”

“Did I touch a nerve?” I asked, smiling at the little rant that had just come out of Captain Cool. He had seemed so laid back both times I’d seen him, it felt weird to have him upset about a little teasing. “Guess I’m not the only one who seems serious sometimes…”

He chuckled and gestured to the tattooed guy standing in front of the door at the First Ave main entrance. “Do you want to see the show or would you rather grab a coffee or beer or something? Like…” he checked his watch, “…right now?”

I nodded and we walked down First Avenue, back in the direction I’d come from on the bus. I told him I’d been out with friends, and decided to take the bus home. How it was pure coincidence that I’d run into him.

“I’m rarely in this neighborhood,” I said. “Do you live around here?”

“No,” he said with no further explanation. “Sorry I got a little snippy about not calling you.”

“It’s fine—I was trying to be funny, but I guess it came across as naggy?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to appear coquettish.

“I’m not the kind of guy who says I’ll call and then doesn’t.”

That struck me as funny.

“It’s fine, really. I wasn’t actually expecting you to have left me three or four messages by the time I got home after the Halloween party.” I paused. “In case that’s the kind of girl you thought
I
was.”

We’d reached a small, dim, relatively un-crowded looking bar, and Joe held the door open for me to walk inside.

“I actually considered calling you that night,” he said as we settled in at a tall bar table nestled up against a window, a safe distance from the cold air that flew in every time someone opened the front door. “It’s all games, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Dating. It’s like playing a game.”

“I’m not really sure yet,” I said. I ordered a Guinness, a nice sipping beer. I didn’t need anything that would go down too easily. I really should have ordered a coffee, but I didn’t get the fresh-coffee vibe from this particular bar. “I actually just got out of a relationship. I’m not really an expert at dating.” I paused, gauging Joe’s reaction. Did he want to be out with someone who had the issues of a long-term relationship? I realized I didn’t really care. It’s not like I could hide the last decade of my life. “Actually, I seem to be really, really bad at dating.”

The smirk was back, then Joe asked, “Now what makes you think you’re bad at dating?”

“Maybe it’s not so much that I’m bad at dating. It’s more like, I seem to have some challenges choosing the right people to date.”

He looked offended.

“This isn’t a date,” I insisted. “This is a random meeting.”

“Oh, excellent. I love meetings.”

“Do you ever have meetings?” I asked. “Don’t musicians get an exemption from corporate thrills, like meetings?”

“I was a lawyer until about five years ago.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “A lawyer?”

“Technically, I guess I still am. I’ve kept up on it, just in case, but the music gig is a lot more fun. I’m a recovering attorney.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “So I really could sue you for identity theft or intellectual property usage for that Halloween costume. It would be a very sad case, and I would probably lose, but I could represent myself and save on legal fees.”

“What made you stop practicing?”

“Meetings,” Joe chuckled. “Actually, I decided to leave my practice when the Dog Hounds started to take off. We’d been playing mostly local shows, but then we began to get some national recognition—got invited to festivals in other states and stuff, and I realized one of us was going to have to focus on the business end of the band if we wanted to have any hope of making it.” He pointed to himself. “I was happy to volunteer to quit the day job and go for it.”

“Do you ever have any regrets?” I asked, wishing I had the courage to leave my own carefully crafted life and find a job and existence that was actually interesting. “Do you ever think about going back to it?”

“I think it’s every little boy’s dream of being in a band when they grow up. So no, now that I’m doing what I love and making it work most of the time, I don’t ever long for suits and client dinners and office politics.” He put his hands behind his head and stretched backward, a “look how relaxed I am” pose.

“God, I’m so jealous.”

“Do you want to be in a band, Stella?” He was teasing me. The smirk was back, but this time I wanted to reach my fingers out and touch the little dimple that appeared every time he made his charming smirk-face. He was such a bad choice, but there was something so tempting about him. So unlike
me
.

I laughed. “No. No bands for me.”

“You don’t like musicians?” He pouted.

“I didn’t say that. I don’t know how I feel about musicians.” I nibbled on my lower lip, then took a sip of my beer. A tiny sip—I was starting to feel sort of floaty again, but I suspected it was from Joe this time, not from the beer. “I guess we’ll see what I think of musicians after tonight.”

“Ooh, am I being interviewed?”

“Yes,” I said, grinning. “Isn’t that how dates work?”

“I thought this wasn’t a date. It’s a meeting, remember?”

“Yes, a deposition.” I laughed. “A deposition would be more interesting than a lot of the dates I’ve had in the last few weeks.”

“Dates? Plural? You’ve been on multiple dates with multiple people in the last few weeks?” His eyes were wide. “You’re a busy girl.”

Embarrassed, I admitted, “I’ve recently signed up for an online dating site.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not going to say.”

“Why not? I’d like to find you and wink at you or high-five you or whatever they do on the site you’re on.”

“You can just wink at me here. In person.”

Joe closed both eyes deliberately.

“Was that a wink?” I asked, laughing.

“I don’t know how to wink.”

“Here,” I reached out and put my hand on his face. His skin was soft and warm, and all I wanted to do was let my hand run up his cheek and tug at one of his soft, wavy curls. Instead, I held one of his eyes open and commanded, “Blink.” He did, and I cracked up. “That was the scariest-looking wink I’ve ever seen.” After I took my hand away from his face, Joe kept blinking.

He took swig of his beer and rubbed at the foggy outside of his pint glass. It was a nervous gesture. “So how long ago did you break up with whoever it was you were dating?”

I stared into my beer when I said, “A few months ago now.”

“It was a long relationship?”

“Twelve years.”

“Shit. That’s longer than my marriage.”

I looked up. “You’re married?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a particularly happy sound. “Not anymore. Divorced.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re much better off.”

“How long were you married?”

“Five years—she left when I went full-time with the band.” He smiled sadly, and my insides squirmed, just a little.

“That’s horrible.”

“Divorce is fun!” He said sarcastically. “Really, it feels like it all happened in a different life. I’m not the same person I was then.”

“That’s good, I guess?” I wondered, briefly, if he felt like a different person because now he could sleep with a different woman every night. Then I realized I was being judgmental, and tried to keep an open mind. This was fun, just fun, and I could loosen up and enjoy it. At least, I hoped I could.

“Definitely.” Joe nodded. “I regret not being able to make it work. There’s probably something satisfying about figuring out how to keep it together, even as you drift apart, you know? It feels like such a failure to put that kind of time into something, and then you just… give up.” He was still smiling, despite the topic. It almost made him look a little naive, but I knew he wasn’t. “I mean, it’s not that we just gave up, but a part of me wonders if it’s better to hold onto something you’ve taken time to build than to just start over at the beginning again.” I swallowed, his words hitting hard. “You want another beer?”

I was still feeling the effects of the wine and now had the Guinness layered on top, and I was not eager to turn this into the drunken first date I’d vowed to have sometime. I didn’t want to ruin it. I was having fun, despite the fact that Joe had just dredged up a lot of the things I’d been fretting over for the last few weeks.

“No, I don’t think another beer is a good idea.”

“Right, yeah,” Joe started to pull out his wallet to pay. “Can I give you a ride home? Your bus transfer is probably expired by now.”

I realized he must have misinterpreted my reluctance to have another beer as a way to end the conversation and our night. “I didn’t mean I wanted to get out of here this second or anything. I just don’t want another beer. Maybe I’ll order a coffee?”

“Oh,” he looked embarrassed. “Yeah, sure.” He spun his empty glass in his hands, fidgeting. “I thought…”

“I don’t care that you’re divorced,” I said quickly. “In case that’s what you were thinking…”

“No, no,” Joe said quickly, but I could tell I was right. He grinned sheepishly and pushed his hair back away from his face. “Well, yeah, maybe I did. Sometimes when I talk about it, I wonder if it looks like I’m still dwelling. Like I’m still hung up on her or something? Because for the record, I’m not. I got over it a few years ago, but you always wonder a little bit what might have happened if you’d stuck it out back when it all went wrong.” He laughed humorlessly. “Agh, I’m blathering. You’re making me ramble. I sound like a lawyer—can’t stop talking. But you know what? I don’t want you to get a coffee here. Maybe we should call an end to this ‘meeting,’ and I could ask you out on a real ‘date’ date?”

“I’d like that,” I said, and meant it. Joe surprised me. I’d originally agreed to a date with him because I thought it would be fun, different, amusing maybe. But now I realized there was more to him than the dopey guy dressed up in a costume trying to make it in the world of children’s music (not that I was judging). I was intrigued. But he’d also given me a few things to think about. Hearing from someone who had done what I’d done—left something decent and not quite right behind and headed out into the wild blue yonder—made me wonder if maybe I was being a little selfish for leaving Erik.

Not for the first time, I worried that maybe I’d made the wrong decision.

CHAPTER NINE

I sailed through the next few days on a Journey- and Joe-inspired high. I was feeling better about myself than I had in a long time, and I was finally starting to feel like maybe I had some sense of self back. Unfortunately, with my new self-satisfaction came a renewed doubt about my decision to leave Erik.

When I brought it up with Anders, he asked me to stop watching Oprah specials.

I decided I wasn’t going to discuss anything with Lily at work, since I’d never hear the end of it. I would keep my newfound happiness to myself and just revel in the fact that I felt fabulous—if a little lonely. I realized it was a little strange that my woo-hoo moment had come courtesy of Journey. If I ever got an award for successfully figuring out my life and finding my way back to me (yeah, I’d been reading self-help), I would be more than happy to thank them for their contribution to my life.

After getting a ride home from Joe on Friday night, we’d agreed to go out a full week later. He was headed out of town to play a few shows at public libraries in Iowa on Saturday and Sunday after our “meeting,” so I suggested the next weekend. He’d offered to plan something, and I was eager to see what he’d come up with.

When I got to the office on Monday, I was greeted with a huge bouquet of tulips  (my favorite!) in a pint glass vase. I’d sworn I wouldn’t get all dopey about Joe, but I couldn’t help but swoon a little at the romantic gesture. Erik had never done anything like this. There were no sudden impulses, no random acts of romance. I hadn’t even realized I was the type of person to fall for this kind of thing, but giddiness bubbled up when I saw them contrasted against the drab gray of my cubicle.