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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NOAH
They ask what happened.
“It’s over,” I say. I want to forget about this and move on. And I’ll do that, after a good drinking session. I know I swore after the last time that I would never do it again, but I never thought I would experience this much pain again either.
Wish I knew what I did wrong. Doesn’t matter anymore, I guess. As long as I’ve learned my lesson. And I have. No more love.
“I need to find a bar,” I say, and to Ryder specifically, “Your driver on call?”
“Let me find out where he is.” He gets on his phone, and I stand there. “He’s at the gas station down the block. He’ll be back in five minutes.”
“Tell him I’ll be out front.” I walk to the door. “You guys coming?”
A chorus of yeses rings out. It’s good to have family.
* * *
The guys cut me slack until we get in the car.
“Tell us what happened,” Blake says.
I peer out the window while Ryder mixes a drink and hands it to me. I take a sip. Too much Coke.
Blake urges me to tell him something, anything.
“She’s engaged, all right?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No, he did. Met him when I went to her house.” I take another drink. “Don’t want to talk about it.
“You didn’t speak with Amber?”
“She wasn’t there.”
“The guy could have been lying.”
“Why would he? I was a complete stranger to the guy. He and Amber have been friends since grade school. You know how it goes from there. She comes home from the big city, and they meet up again. It’s a Hallmark movie.”
“He’s got a point,” Ryder says.
“Damn right, I do.” I raise my glass to Ryder and nod. Then I drink.
“You should have hung around and talked to her yourself,” Blake says.
“She wasn’t home. And do you know how many times I’ve tried to contact her? Phone calls, texts. Dozens. Hasn’t the decency to get back to me. I’m a memory to her.”
Things turn quiet and remain that way until we reach the bar. We go inside. It’s loud. Women are here by the fistfuls. “Ladies’ night,” Ryder hollers and winks. “Can’t beat ladies’ night.”
He waves for us to follow, and he guides us to a table. I would prefer a booth in a back corner, but I’ll play along. Why not?
The waitress comes over. She seems nice. Her smile beams and her eyes sparkle as she talks. “What can I get you, fellas?” She cocks a leg and taps her lips with a pen while she waits for us to reply. Her short skirt and crop top emphasize her toned legs and stomach, which is the purpose of the outfit. She’s probably raking in the tips.
