Still Into You: A Novel (Better Than Series Book 3) (6 page)

              “Oh, yeah…” The boys have finally noticed the college girls.  Clay and Jack punch Quarter on the shoulder and “assist” him to stand.  “We’re on it, Biz,” they tell me.

              I can just make out the sound of the guys saying “Hi” to the college girls and them giggling in response, as Jules and I exit the pool area.  I’ll just add matchmaker to my list of skills.

              “Hey, Jules, Biz,” Clay hollers out to us, “Remember, we’re going to The Snapper some time this week.  All of us.”

              Jules and I widen our eyes and both say, “YESSSS!” in an exaggerated fashion.  Over dinner, the guys made us promise to go out dancing with them one night at a local nightclub, The Lucky Snapper.  I guess being closely linked to Boxwood increased our cool factor even further with them.  Jules and I are going to have a great time giving each other shit for hanging out with Spring Breakers, even after we assured our husbands we wouldn’t.

Chapter 8-Present:  The Lucky Snapper

The next six days are unhurried and restful.  I’ve barely thought of any of the things that have been stressing me out – primarily, the infertility. We exert ourselves only to go to the beach and prepare food.  One of our afternoons is spent at a large outlet mall.  We return with bags of cute outfits for ourselves and Kitten.  I splurge on four, yes, four pairs of shoes-Louboutins, Manolos, Jimmy Choos, and a pair of Yves St. Laurent sandals with metal ankle straps. I’ve been coveting them since I saw them in last September’s issue of Vogue.

I even bought something for myself at the Agent Provocateur outlet store. It’s a black bra with crisscrossing bondage-type straps and matching panties and a garter with the same crisscrossing.  It has a name. Whitney.  My lingerie has a name!  Not the kind of thing I’ve ever bought before.  Jules gave me the nudge I needed to go through with the purchase.  It actually may be more of a present for Davis than for me.  I’m not sure when I’ll spring it on him.

I hide the Agent Provocateur bag in one of the bigger bags.  Since we’ve been here in Florida a strange thing has been happening. Evidently a good portion of St. Louisians like to vacation here.  It’s the closest beach to our town, twelve hours away.  I’ve been spotted several times as “that girl, Biz, from ‘Happening in the STL’.”  I’m glad it’s not, “that girl, Biz from the sexual assault trial.”  I’ve only done the occasional broadcast, on “Happening,” but I guess it’s enough to be mildly well known.  I make sure to always be friendly.  St. Louis is a large city with a small town gossip grapevine, but I hide the Agent Provocateur bag because, hey, they don’t need to know what kind of lingerie I’m wearing. After I’m recognized a few times, I begin to observe more and more Cardinals ball caps and Missouri license plates.  It
is
a small world.

Another afternoon we indulge in the full spa experience – manis, pedis, massages, wraps, scrubs and Vichy showers
. 
I have never been so polished or had such hydrated skin ever.  It’s probably a good thing too, after being in the heat and sun for several days. 

Walking out of the spa, Jules wonders aloud, “How am I ever going to go back to the Foundation and work all day after this vacation?”

“I know,” I agree, “I wonder if I’ll even remember what KTTA looks like.”  It’s strange.  I’ve missed work, but not enough to call in or check my email.

“Well, I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.  I’ve been answering emails…”Jules says.  I shoot her a disapproving look, “…and I’ve got a lot of work to do when we get back.”

“Why, what’s up?”  I ask.

“You’re kidding, right?”  Jules admonishes, “The Ball? The Brandon-Connelly NEVER AGAIN Fundraiser.  Did you forget? It’s five days after we get home.”

I had.

I confess, “Actually, yeah, I did.  I have my dress and everything.  I guess, I’m just so relaxed here, it slipped my mind.”

              My stress level is way down from where it was seven days ago.  And Davis will be here in two days.  I can’t wait to see him.  He may never get to the beach, I miss him so much.  He’s going to be attacked by a plumper, pampered, chilled out Biz.

              Getting back to the condo, we see Clay, Jack, Quarter and their “new” girl friends, heading to the pool.  Quarter spots us getting out of the car and diverts himself to meet us.

              “Hey, we’re going to The Snap tonight.  You coming?” he asks eagerly.

              Jules and I look at each other and both shake our heads no at the same time.

              “Thanks for asking, Quarter, but we’re all relaxed from our spa day.  I think we’re just going to order a pizza, flop out on the sectional and watch chick flicks.”

              “No.  I mean, you promised” Quarter protests. “And we only have a couple more nights.”

              I speak up, “Tomorrow.”

              Jules looks at me with surprise. “You don’t want to wait until Charlie and Davis get here to go out dancing?”

              I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow at Jules.  She should know that after this many days without Davis, the last thing I’ll want to do is take him out dancing with strangers.

              “Oh, right!”  Jules finally clues in. “Yeah, tomorrow, Quarter.  We promise.”  We both cross our hearts and hold our palms up to swear to it.

***

              We meet our three “dates” for our night of dancing at the pavilion.  They all look so handsome and young.  They’ve gone all out.  No backward ball caps or baggy shorts. 

Crisp button-ups, tight jeans (smile) and styled hair.  I notice they are alone, none of the girls that have been hanging around are with them.

              “Where are the girls?” I ask.

              “What girls?” Clay answers with a smirk.

              I make a bug-eyed smarty pants face at him.  “The girls you’ve been hanging out with,” and then add with a whisper to Jules, “and making out with.”

              Jules giggles.

              “I think you two are all the ‘girls’ we can handle tonight,” Jack tells us, turning on the charm.

              “Two to Three, huh?”  I tease.

              Quarter has been quiet this whole time, but softly interjects, “I think you can manage it.”

              Jack and Clay punch him on the bicep and ruffle his hair, both teasing and praising him for his newfound smart aleckiness.

              I agree with Quarter and tell him so, “I think you’re right, Quarter.  Let’s go dance.”

              We take two cars.  The five of us won’t fit in the sports car Charlie and Davis rented and had waiting as a surprise for us at the condo.  Clay comes with me.  Jack and Quarter take Jules in their big red pick-up with a lift kit.  I can hear her say, “Cool truck,” as they hike her up to help her in.

***

              The Lucky Snapper is a family restaurant by day, a large open air bar and dance club by night.  It’s located right at the entrance to the bay that connects the Gulf of Mexico and the Intercoastal Waterway on a marina.  Lots of patrons simply dock their boats and climb the steps to the club for the evening.  The theme of the club is, of course, fish and fishing, but with disco lights.  It’s perfect for the area.  Even if you were to come to The Snap in the winter, it would feel like summer.  Tonight, since it’s the weekend, there will be fireworks at midnight. 

              The club is already rocking when we arrive.  Locals and tourists mingle.  You can tell the difference.  The tourists look a little more cleaned up, like they would back in their cities and hometowns when they go out.  The locals are dressed like the tourists do at the beach – shorts, tees, sundresses over bikinis. The guys grab up a tall table, somehow, and hold out the chairs for us.  Jules orders a soft drink.  The guys get a bucket of beer and I decide to join them in the local favorite.  The beer is ice cold and goes down so easily.  I have to remind myself to slow down.  Clay, Jack, and Quarter are complete gentleman and take turns dancing with Jules and me.  They never leave one of us alone or even look at any of the other girls in the club.  And there are plenty of cute ones checking them out.  They must be wondering what three college guys are doing with two almost-30 year olds.

              After a few dances with Quarter, he guides me back to the table.  Jules is already there.  I am SO thirsty.  I start in on my second beer and decide I have to ask what I’ve been wondering “Quarter, why are you guys out with us tonight?  Why are you being so nice to us?”

              “Yeah, Why?”  Jules joins in the questioning, “Why aren’t you out with your hot babes?”

              Clay snorts and tells Jules, “You’re a hot babe. You’re Charlie Boxwood’s hot babe. You said you’d introduce us. We just want you to have a good opinion of us, so you will.  Introduce us.”

              Jules laughs out loud, “So you’re flirting with me to get to my husband?  That’s a good one.”  She dramatically sighs and laughs again, “At least you’re honest.”

              Jack stops Jules’ fake mini pity party. “Oh, don’t be deceived.  We totally would have fired on you both. Hard.  But then you said you were married and that…that’s just not cool.  And well, fuck, sorry, you’re Boxwood’s babes.”

              Jules’ and I laugh ‘til we cry, “Boxwood’s babes!  Charlie would freaking love that!”  The funny thing is, it’s actually true.

              As we laugh and talk, the words to the song the DJ is playing hit my cerebral cortex and the lyrics register. 

“Southside girls can always get dates.

All the streets are named after states.

Looking for my beauty queen

My southside, southside Miss America dream.”

I look at Jules, Jules looks at me, we both turn to the guys and then all of us scream in unison at the top of our lungs, “BOXWOOD!!”

Oh My God, I’ve never heard Boxwood in a bar before.  I mean, I have,
LIVE
, but not being played by a DJ.  We abandon the table and rush to the dance floor to rip it up to “Southside Miss America.”  I’m impressed to see that Clay, Jack and Quarter know all the words. 

The song is about the part of our town where all the streets have the names of states.  It’s also a lower socio-economic area with rapidly changing areas of diversity.  Boxwood wrote the song with the idea that they could change the street names in the song by wherever they are playing at the time.  It’s sort of genius.  On this version, the recorded one, they end with the girl being a “Show Me” girl from Missouri Street.  Jules is dancing and smiling and singing – LOUDLY. 

She yells out, “That’s my husband!”

The whole bar is singing the song.  How did we not know everyone knew this song?

***

We learn pretty quickly from other bar patrons that “Southside Miss America” is in the Top 100 for Pop/Rock.  Charlie never called to tell us and oddly, we haven’t been listening to the radio much.  I’m so excited for Charlie and the other Boxwood guys, Simon, Ian and Colin.  There are no harder working musicians and they’ve certainly paid their dues over the past four years.  Jules asks the DJ to play it again after a few more songs.  She videos the bar crowd all singing along and dancing and texts it to Charlie, squealing the entire time.

There is a 99.99 percent chance we are closing The Lucky Snapper down tonight/this morning.  I’ve danced almost continuously since the first time they played Boxwood’s hit.  Boxwood’s hit!  When I do take a break, I quickly down more beers with the guys.  I’m buzzed, but not too badly.  Just crazy relaxed and happy.  The only thing that could make it better would be Davis – here.

After the fireworks, they announce last call at the bar.  Jules has rushed off to use the bathroom before we leave, claiming she’ll never make it home if she doesn’t.  I wonder after she slips away if I shouldn’t join her.  I’ve had a lot of beer. 

After I throw in some cash, and argue with Clay about doing so, he pays the tab.  Glancing up from putting my wallet back in my crossbody bag, I look across the bar and spy Jules talking to a guy in a Cards ball cap.  He’s turned three quarters of the way away from me and I can just barely see his profile.  I think he looks familiar.  He has hair the color of Davis’ and the same length too.  I know it’s not Davis because this guy is shorter.  Jules is nodding and smiling.  She points over her shoulder at me and the guy quickly turns his head to look in my direction for a second.  I feel myself inhale sharply.  It can’t be!  It can’t be him!

The guy turns away and I see Jules mouth the words, ‘Bye,’ as he leaves.  The lights in the club come up fully and everyone still in the place moans and shields their eyes.  The bartender claps his hands three times loudly and proclaims, “People – Closing Time.  You don’t have to go home … but you can’t stay here.”  This only causes the remaining crowd to begin singing the Semisonic song that states the same sentiment.  It doesn’t get them moving any faster.  I don’t join them in moving, or singing.  I’m frozen.  I just keep looking at the place where the guy in the baseball cap was talking to Jules.  Even as she comes toward me, my focus is still behind her.

“Hey, Biz … I just met another one of your fans…” Jules announces.

I shake my head no.  And then say it. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?  The guy said he recognized you from your show.  He’s originally from St. Louis, moved down here a few years ago…and you know what’s weird, it just hit me…that guy had a shirt on that was just like the one Davis used to have.  Did you ever see that old shirt that Davis had that said, ‘An Awkward Morning Beats A Boring Night?’ Biz? Biz?”

Jules’ words are swirling around me.  She shakes my arm violently.  It’s as if I’ve been smacked in the forehead by a two by four.  A guy, that looks like Randall is wearing a shirt that looks like one of Davis’?  It
was
Randall!  I’m sure of it.  Where did he get that shirt?  I’ve never seen one like it before I saw Davis’ and I threw that one in the trash.  Could he have gone through our trash, back home?  Surely not…

I ask carefully, “Jules, the guy.  Did he say his name?”