Without Scars (5 page)

“Okay, you didn’t say
anything
about
this
,” Denise whispered, her gaze roaming all over Charlie. Then she plowed her elbow into my ribs so hard I bit my tongue
.
I almost didn’t recognize him. I tried not to gawk now, but he didn’t look anything like the guy from earlier today. Well, he was
still
hot, tall and muscular, but he’d cleaned up his facial hair and buzz cut. He was in a black V-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows on both sides. On his left forearm in dark cursive tattoo script was the line,
“I leave my heart here and feel even more alive.
”

Damn.

He’d unknowingly checked every box on the “How to Get Nikki Out of Her Panties” list. Unfortunately for both of us, though, I was staying in mine tonight.  I was just here to learn more about the two guys who had gone out of their way for me today.

“Am I late? Were you guys waiting on me?” I asked, after we had a quick round of introductions.

His brow furrowed for a moment. “Wow. You look amazing.”

I didn’t have a doubt but it was always nice to hear. “Thank you.” My midi skirt was so tight my ass looked like a shelf, my crop top was showing just a sliver of my hard-earned abs, and I was in stacked black heels. I’d even curled my hair. Too much for Coco’s, but dressing up was usually the best part of going out, anyway. “So…what’s up? Why are you out here?” Charlie blinked rapidly and smiled, but didn’t say anything. “What are you doing out here?”

“Jesus.” A woman, who had just been talking to Ghost while he was finishing up his cigarette, approached us and smacked Charlie on the chest. “I guess I have to take over because he’s having a ‘Me Can’t Think, Girl Too Pretty’ brain fart.”

“Whatever, Mira…” Charlie said, but he couldn’t keep a straight face as he looked at me.

“Hi, I’m Samira,” the woman said, shaking all our hands.

“Right. From
How to Fuck up a Friendship.
Nice to meet you.” She had a deep brown skin tone and dark brown eyes. I was amazed by how much of a bombshell she was in real life, compared to the toned down, laidback chick she played on the few episodes I’d watched while getting dressed. She was all centerfold hair and pushed-up boobs now. Hot either way.

“Would you two like to join us? Everyone else is stopping by the comedy show after-party first, apparently, so it’s fine,” she said to Denise and John, and they agreed. “Right now there’s nowhere to sit inside and wait.” Then she turned to me. “Anyway, how are you? I heard someone broke into your car. That sucks.”

“Yeah, but the car’s fine now, so I’m fine. Really.”

“
Yes, yes you are
.” Samira grinned and gestured at Charlie. “Hence the absolute breakdown of brain function over here.”

“Whatever, Mira,” Charlie repeated. It was funny to watch him fiddle with his phone and pretend he didn’t want to look at me some more.

“We should go check on the wait time again,” Samira suggested. “Maybe sigh passive-aggressively near the hostess a while until she’s so annoyed she
has
to seat us somewhere.” It worked because even though the hostess couldn’t put us at a regular table, she led us to two bar tables within a few minutes. Or when Charlie slipped her two twenties.

His hand brushed across my lower back after he pulled out a chair for me. Heat spooled up my insides. “Whosever turn it is to pick the restaurant usually covers the first round of drinks. Since you’re a guest, you’re off the hook for that, but you get to do the honors tonight by picking what we’re all drinking,” Ghost explained. “Pick your favorite. If it’s fruity girlie shit, we’ll make fun of you, but we’ll drink it.”

Oh boy. I guess they were going to find out anyway when I was nursing a club soda later. “I don’t mind picking but I don’t drink, guys…” I said.

“How the fuck do you manage this place sober?” Charlie asked. They were right about Coco’s.
Miami wasn’t the easiest city to party in when you were under twenty-one. So this place had become a haven for eighteen-year-olds. When you’d made it past your late teens, it was not worth spending nights out with people you could’ve babysat at one point. But coming here was a comfortable habit for me. Deep in the days of my drinking, this was where I was because no one knew me. Once I got sober, I made a pact with the bartenders to never serve me again.

“I have to. I’m in recovery.” Denise gave my knee a comforting squeeze beneath the table. Even people who didn’t know you looked at you differently when you made an admission like this. When you confessed that something almost beat you. That it could
still
beat you. I saw it in the faces of my old friends all the time: How come you just can’t handle
fun
like other people, idiot?

“Whoa. Congratulations…” Charlie mumbled as he leaned in, looking apologetic now. “You’re okay with being here?”

I smiled. “Where
in Miami
would be any different on a
Saturday night
? It’s impossible to avoid.” Alcohol didn’t stop existing because it was
my
burden, and it shouldn’t have had to. One of the reasons I liked my therapy with Lea was that it was changing the things I associated with drinking. Before, it was about squeezing through a crowded nightclub with my friends, the cute bartender leaning toward me, the slap of the glass against the bar top, the clink of the ice inside, and the frost spreading on the surface. And the pour? The red tape at the finish line. The whole ritual thrilled me. Now, it was smashed glass in a bad neighborhood, and a smell like the isopropyl kind my grandma used. The urge would always be there. Now I just had to refocus my attention.

“You’re absolutely cool being the only sober one?” Ghost asked. “Because we
drink
.”

“Definitely. Guys, I didn’t join a convent. Going out entails being around people who drink. It’s fine.
”

“Cool,” Ghost said as he left for the bar. He quickly struck up a conversation with a woman sharing a drink with her girl friend.

“Well, maybe I won’t drink as much tonight,” Charlie offered.

“Oh, don’t do that on my account.”

“Yeah, don’t. We don’t,” Denise said, winking at me. It was true. And I really didn’t mind.

“Do you want to order?” Charlie asked Samira. His eyes barely shifted away from me.

“Yeah. Flatbread. Shrimp, scallop, chicken, and lamb mezze plates. We can share.”

“Everyone good with that?” Charlie asked but he didn’t seem satisfied with the agreement until I nodded. Soon Denise and John were being cutesy and testing the limits of their self-control with a few kisses, and completely ignoring the three of us. When Ghost returned, he whispered something to Charlie, who then laughed and told Samira. I reached for my phone to find something to look at, to avoid the awkward exclusion from the conversation.

“Is it okay if we talk about this right now?” Samira asked Ghost, and he shrugged.

“Old news, anyway.”

“So, Ghost was engaged a few months ago.” Her tone was grim but she looked amused.

“Shit was never gonna work,” Charlie mumbled, trying not to laugh.

Ghost frowned but didn’t look the least bit offended. “Hey! I was
in love
!”

Samira groaned. “We convinced him to call it off because it would’ve been a huge disaster.
Huge.
Charlie and I would’ve been elbowing each other the whole time in the church, like ‘Really?’” I liked them already. These people who canceled each other’s weddings. “Anyway, he just ran into the chick’s sister. God, Miami feels so small sometimes. His ex is engaged. Again. That girl was sweet but was just in love with the idea of love. And I never saw that spring in his step or
that look
between them
—you know, when they were in the same room together—that look that just takes the floor out from under you. And Ghost knows he didn’t have that. These two
clearly do
…” She smiled and pointed to Denise and John.

“You sound like the inside of a fuckin’
Hallmark
card, Mira,” Ghost said with a dismissive grimace, but throughout Samira’s short story his expression had more or less confirmed that he hadn’t really been in love.

“I’ve been with Patrick since we were eighteen. I
know
what I’m talking about,” she said. I nodded at her. But like Ghost, I hadn’t experienced what she had described, either. I dated a guy from the ballet company during the first year. It was my first serious relationship and it ended when he signed with a New York dance company. Then I met a guy in rehab I really liked, but dating was strictly forbidden. And my (many) adventures on the
Dating for Alcoholics
website were a bust. The floor stayed firmly beneath my feet each time. I’d felt more sizzle in the total minutes Charlie had stared at me than all of those combined.

When the food and drinks came, Charlie and Ghost moved on to another conversation they didn’t want us to hear. Samira brought her chair closer to mine. Then the questions rolled off her tongue in rapid-fire fashion; I felt like I was in the lightning round of a game show. I gave her the brief rundown on my family, how long I’d been dancing, and what life was like with a ballet company.

Her phone rang before I got a chance to ask about her. “Okay, Patrick’s calling…again,” she said, eyeing the screen of her cell. The handsome face of a guy with blue eyes and black hair appeared. “I swear he gets amnesia about the whereabouts of
everything
in our house when he’s alone with our baby girl. Mind you,
she’s
able to find
everything
usually
.
”

“You have a baby?” I asked loudly, gawking at her smoking hot body. She was curvy, but everything was firm, and with a dress that short and tight she wasn’t getting any help from Spanx.

“Oh, I
like
you.” Samira beamed at me before she replied to the call with a text.

Charlie flipped his phone around and slid it across the table. On the screen was a series of photos of him making faces with a child on his lap. “There’s Booger. That’s Lux Charlotte.” His eyes were alight with pride and I got butterflies. “She’s my goddaughter.” He must’ve really adored her; no one beat a parent to showing off pictures of their own kid.

Samira sighed. “Okay, I have to go home now because my baby is still awake and misses me. The husband-baby, not the baby-baby.”

“The Fun Police reporting for duty,” Charlie joked.

“We’re going to double the fun killing, actually; we’re heading out, too,” Denise said, rising from her seat. John’s hand was on her butt and she winked at me. John handed money to Charlie even after he turned it down. Denise gave me a big hug and whispered, “Probably not a sex cult but I’d join
his
if there is one.”

“I know, right? We’ll talk tomorrow,” I whispered back, and then they left.

“Call me when you get home, and give Booger a high-five for me tomorrow,” Charlie said to Samira.

“One…” She playfully slapped his face. “Get a new nickname for my daughter.” Samira turned to me. “And two, for the love of God,
for me
, for my old life, please dance on top of something tonight
.
” She kissed Charlie on the cheek. “Even if it’s
him
. It was really nice meeting you!” She was still waving when Ghost hooked his arm around her shoulders and walked her out.

“She’s a trip,” Charlie said, but his face reddened. I was pretty sure mine had, too. He pushed the plates aside. Then he leaned until he was over the halfway point of the table, his fingers linked in front of him. “So…hi, dancer with a past.” He smiled. Wow, he was really good-looking.

“Hey, vigilante,” I said, smiling back. “Find my iPod yet?”

“Nah. No time. Too busy getting ready for tonight. Couldn’t have you looking at me like you were earlier today.”

“Oh? And how was that?”

“Not like you’re looking at me
now
…” he said with a smirk.

“So
that
’s why you didn’t ask for my number…”

“Well…I’m asking now.” He lifted my hand and placed it on top of his phone, which was still in front of me. His eyes never left my face. His gaze flooded me with nervous energy: that mix of excitement and euphoria and anxiety that turned you into a blathering idiot if you weren’t careful. I already couldn’t keep my feet still under the table or my mouth from going dry. I was
not
the awkward around hot men or new people type
at all,
so imagine my surprise at this development.

I knew this place well enough to know that the DJ was about to spin a mix a few years too old for majority of the people in here, like he always did, so when Ghost came back, I coaxed Charlie to the dance floor. To shake off my nerves. Bulldozing our way to the center, we ended up right below the DJ booth. Obviously I loved dancing. I didn’t miss being the drunkest girl at the party, but I still loved the perks of the party: disappearing into a song and not caring that it ravaged my eardrums.