“Sure thing. Nice to meet you, Celeste,” Wayne says to me.
“Nice to meet you, too. Sorry I monopolized him.”
“Monopolize him all you want, just keep him in check,” Wayne teases.
Gage makes a grumbling noise, but looks more bemused than anything.
“Will do,” I reply with a laugh, adding a cheeky salute.
He shoots me a wink, and saunters back down the hallway.
“So, now you’ve met my entire immediate family,” he says with a sheepish grin.
“It’s like we’ve been married forever already,” I deadpan, and he laughs. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and unlocks it.
“Think more about what we talked about, there’s no pressure, ok? Want to give me your number so we can talk soon?” I nod and take the phone from him, plugging in my number. He chokes out a laugh when I hand it back to him with my contact in there as Celeste the Mess. I watch as he promptly thumbs out something, and then hear my purse softly vibrate on the table.
“Next time we’ll finish our darts game, I don’t think anyone will touch the scoreboard until then. Hardly anyone uses it. I better get up there.” His smile is boyish now, and adorable as he brings me into a quick hug. I swear his lips brush my temple, in an absent minded way, like it’s an instinct. The sweet contact has a lump forming in my throat, and I can barely croak out, “I’ll come back up with you and sit for a minute to finish my wine,” in response as I hug him back.
He’s so warm, and his inked arms enfold me so securely. I’ve never been hugged like this, like I’m someone worth cherishing. Jesus, I am pathetically touch starved through my own doing, but it’s affecting me so much more than I expected because it’s him. He releases me slowly, his eyes darting to my lips, before motioning his head toward the bar.
Grabbing my wine and purse, I follow Gage back down the hall toward the bar, where he quickly hops behind it to immediately start helping. He and Iggy exchange a few words as I watch them work seamlessly around each other to get everyone served. It’s like a well rehearsed dance asthey line up glasses, pour in unison, use their shakers to the rhythm of the music, and looking as if they’re having the best time.
The people are eating it up, hollering and cheering, some of the women offering their numbers. My skin tingles uncomfortably at the thought of Gage possibly going home with one of them, even though I have no right to feel any sort of way about it, but his eyes keep darting to me. He politely refuses any offers.
I’m standing in the back and slightly to the side of the mass of people clamoring for drinks because all of the chairs are full of people. It’s not even the weekend, and I can’t help marveling at the crowd. Sipping the last dregs of my wine, I work my way through the throng to the bar to put down my glass and pay. Gage sees me right away and comes over after he gets someone else their beer. When I go to hand him my money, he shakes his head before leaning in close to speak in my ear over the noise.
“You kicked my ass at darts, so I’m buying your drink.” I involuntarily shiver at his warm breath coasting across that sensitive spot just below my ear before collecting myself.
“Fair enough, thank you,” I say back into his ear. He shudders too, before I pull away. His intoxicating smell of tequila, citrus, and wood smoke lingers in my nose like a looming phantom.
“Talk soon, Celeste,” he says with a secret smile.
“See ya, Gagey,” I reply, that smile doing way too much to my insides.
My steps are much more buoyant walking out of El Abrevadero than they were when I walked in. When I get into my car, I pull my phone out of my purse to plug in the directions for the community center where my anger management class is being held. It’s about 30 minutes away,and I’ll get there just in time. Then I see the text Gage sent me so I could have his number, and I laugh.
Unknown Number
You’re totally going to put me in your phone as Gagey, aren’t you?
The smile on my face doesn’t leave as I thumb out my reply.
Nope. You’re getting listed as Random Man Who Proposed
I don’t have to wait too long for a response, even though I know he’s busy right now. He sends back a simple laughing emoji after a minute while I’m sitting in my running car, choosing music to play on the way. I can’t help but smile at the text. The air conditioning blasts to combat the July heat, and I quickly pile my hair back up into a messy bun to keep it off of my neck. Ingrid Michaelson’s angelic voice comes in over the gorgeous piano melody, asking if we’ve ever thought about what protects our heart. She muses how it’s only a ribcage, and that we’re all breakable when it comes to love. It’s yearning and sweet though, almost hoping for the heart to be freed from its confines.
Chapter 7
Celeste
The drive to the community center isn’t too bad since it mostly takes back roads, and I find it with no issue. When I had my sentence reduced, this was one of the in person courses I could take to satisfy my requirement. The judge wanted me in a community setting, rather than doing it over Zoom, and it’s perfect that it’s pretty close and usually works in tandem with the local jail. By the time I park just before eight, the sun is getting lower, casting the sky in a kaleidoscope of swirling purples and pinks. The landscaping near the entrance is lush with rhododendrons and fragrant hydrangeas, bumblebees lazily buzzing among the blooms before they settle in for the night. I take a deep breath of the warm summer air before I open the front door.
The center itself is bright and airy when I walk in, with white walls covered in art and an enormous bulletin board overflowing with flyers. The flyers shout out upcoming events such as Bingo night, a senior citizen mixer, and a fundraising bake sale for the local community theater group. Shiny linoleum squeaks under my sneakers as I look for the main conference room B1. It’s near theback with the door open, several people milling about and getting paper cups of water from the water cooler in the back. Next to the water cooler is a side table with a tray of crackers, cheeses, and fruits. I fucking wheeze-laugh when I see the little sign next to it that says, “Don’t let your anger turn into hanger.” Ok, I appreciate the effort to lighten the mood and break the ice. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It’s clear this is not going to be like the course my foster parents Jack and Bev tried to get me to stick with when I was a teenager. That one was a very cut and dry, strictly individual course where the woman who led it didn’t seem like she wanted to be there. If she didn’t want to be there, why should I? Already there is a completely different vibe to this course. It’s very community driven, and there’s some humor from the start with that sign.
A couple of stragglers come in after me as I’m grabbing a banana, and I see the woman who is clearly the leader of the class sitting at the head of the table taking a quick head count. There are two other women here besides me, and four men, all of us completely different shapes, sizes, and colors. Everyone is going to be speaking about their anger from totally different perspectives, and it actually has me a little excited to hopefully learn.
