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I swivel my neck and round my shoulders. After plugging in my earbuds, I put my phone on my workout playlist and start my routine.
Three sets of lateral fly’s later, I stop the music and look for some different tunes to keep me going. The old ones aren’t cutting it anymore. I need something new.
Sin has an eclectic taste in music. When I stepped out of her shower, which she’d refused to join me in, she had that 70s music on again. I’ll have to ask her what’s the name of that one slow song about the guy finding out his girl was in love with someone else. The words were poignant, and I liked the melody. I wonder—
Damn it! I came here to get away from her.
I whirl around when someone taps me on the shoulder. I must look like I want to snap on someone as Shane backs up a few steps, palms out.
“It’s just me man.” He peers at my face. “You okay?”
I set the weight down. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”
My smile, strained as it is, must reassure him. He pats me on the back like a concerned father. “Hey, dude, I thought you were going to call me last night.”
“Yeah, I got stuck in something.”
Shane chuckles. “Stuck in something or stuck insomeone?“ The wink he gives me is all sorts of leery.
I resist the urge to cringe by continuing with my set.
Shane shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Clearing his throat he asks, “ Uh, hey, I’m gonna catch lunch with my girl. You wanna come?”
“Yeah, sure,” I puff. Lunch with Shane, even with his one-track mind around Joyce, is better than being alone. “I just got here. I’ll need about an hour.”
Shane looks at his clock-sized watch that is bigger than he is. “Yeah, sure, dude. I’ll let her know we’ll be there around noon.”
I nod in response and start another set. Shane, getting the hint I want to be left alone, walks away, yelling across the room at someone who has just come in.
Bump in Paradies
Royce
Atexactly12:00PM,Shane and I walk into the restaurant that is little more than a hole in the wall. Paradies—German for paradise—is a rustic, cowboy-feel type of place with weathered license plates on the walls and old tin signs. Wood is the dominant theme, and it is everywhere. The tables. The chairs. And the walls. Tucked by the side of I-35 the spattering of neon beer signs gives a bit of light to the dim interior.
Given the number of people leaning their asses on the wooden fence as they wait for a table to open up, Paradise must have a waiting-list a mile long.
There is no waiting for us. Shane knows the owner, and he made a reservation. We weave our way around the patrons, looking for Shane’s girlfriend, Joyce. She’d come earlier to secure the table. Glad she did because I’m approaching hangry with a bullet’s speed.
A female squeal has us whipping our heads around, seeking the sound.
On a bench, behind a family that has just left for their table, Joyce nudges the arm of an equally petite, equally pretty blond. They resemble matching dolls as Joyce has on a crop top in blue and denim shorts while her friend has on a similar outfit in green. As one, they pop to their feet, and using the air like water, they move towards us like synchronized swimmers.
When Joyce’s friend giggles, it hits me.
This is a setup.
I vaguely remember Joyce saying something about her friend wanting to meet me.
I’d brushed it off, not giving an answer one way or the other. Now, my inaction has landed me here, to this moment.
I’m so not in the mood.
Shane wraps an arm around Joyce, bringing her in for a lingering kiss on the lips. The small blond and I avoid the PDA by smiling at each other.
“Royce,” Joyce says after breaking her lip lock with Shane. “This is Charlotte.”
“Call me Char,” the friend pipes up.
