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Despite my excitement for the evening, I couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling in my stomach. Nausea had been a constant, uninvited companion over the past few days. I frowned, hoping I wasn't coming down with something. I couldn't afford to get sick, not now. I was stepping into a new role, a new chapter, and calling in sick wasn't an option.
Brushing away the thought, I focused on the night ahead. It was time to celebrate my victory, put aside my confusion and hurt over Tony, and remind myself that there were people in my life who cared for me and shared my joy. Tonight was about new beginnings and the promise of brighter days.
I arrived at Mellow and scanned the place for Sally.
Nestled in the heart of Denver's River North Art District, Mellow was a trendy sanctuary that married urban chic with a dash of relaxed elegance. With a brick and industrial steel exterior, it stood out among the art studios and vintage boutiques that populated the hip neighborhood.
Edgy artworks from local artists adorned the exposed brick walls, infusing the space with vibrant hues. The open concept kitchen wafted tempting aromas of creative cuisines, and the low, ambient music in the background perfectly complemented the lively chatter. It was a popular hangout spot for Denver's young professionals and trendsetters.
Truth be told, I felt a little out of my element there among the hip, young crowd. Aging was a funny thing when it came to such subjects, I’d realized over the years. One minute you were young and carefree, the next you were stepping into your forties, into middle age.
It took me a moment to find Sally, but I soon spotted her at the bar with a cocktail close at hand. She stood up as I approached, her eyes widening appreciatively.
"Well, don't you clean up nice," she said with a tone of friendly teasing.
I let out a light chuckle, giving her a playful shove. "Look who's talking. You could give any Insta model a run for her money," I replied, eyeing her stylish ensemble.
Sally had opted for high-waisted black pants and a striking silver top that shimmered under the restaurant's soft lights. Her short hair was styled in loose curls and she had donned a bold red lip color that complemented her outfit perfectly.
"Think so?" she responded, striking a dramatic, hip-cocked pose that had me laughing.
We decided to sit at the bar, enjoying the bustling ambiance. Sally immediately ordered another cocktail, her usual margarita, but I declined.
"Just a club soda for me," I told the bartender. I also kept my dinner order simple and bland, choosing a grilled chicken salad in case my stomach decided to act up.
Sally raised an eyebrow at me, noticing my out of character food and drink choices. "Not feeling well?" she asked, a note of concern creeping into her voice.
I shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to put a damper on our celebration. "Just a bit of nausea, nothing serious. Probably just nerves but I don't want to risk it," I explained, trying to reassure her.
"Well, if you need anything or want to go home early, just let me know," she said, concern still evident in her voice.
“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it really is just nerves from everything that’s been going on lately.”
As the evening continued to unfold, my attention was successfully diverted from phantom figures to the vibrant atmosphere and the infectious energy of my friend. I felt lighter, freer, the excitement of my new job and the joy of her companionship overshadowing any lingering and unnecessary sadness.
As we were in the middle of a raucous laughter about a particularly ridiculous holiday decoration Sally had seen in her neighborhood, our conversation was pleasantly interrupted. A pair of handsomely charming men around Sally's age asked if they could join us. Grinning, Sally gave me a mischievous look, silently asking for permission. The bitter pill of disappointment regarding Tony was fading, and in its place, the prospect of a night of fun and maybe even a touch of harmless flirtation had its appeal.
"Sure, why not?" I said, offering them an encouraging smile.
The taller of the two slid onto the stool next to Sally. His wavy chestnut hair, peppered with streaks of sun-bleached blonde, fell haphazardly over his deep-set, cerulean eyes. His devilish smile suggested a man accustomed to getting his way. "I'm Jake," he announced with a flash of unnervingly white teeth.
His friend took the seat next to me. He was slightly shorter but broader, with a mess of curly black hair and eyes a few shades darker than a good cup of coffee. There was a certain swagger in his demeanor, a casualness that could easily be mistaken for arrogance. "I'm Zach," he said, leaning back in his seat and surveying the room with a calculated air of confidence.
Despite their overt cockiness, their charm was undeniable. There was an ease to their conversation, a practiced smoothness in their compliments, suggesting they were no strangers to the situation. Yet even amidst the laughter and playful banter, my mind kept wandering back to Tony. I forced a smile, reminding myself to be present, to enjoy the night for what it was.
Time seemed to slip by as the chatter continued, the men proving to be far more invested in the impromptu double date than I was. Zach was undeterred by my lukewarm responses, continuing his attempts at flirtation with unwavering perseverance. The final straw came when he leaned in close and moved his hand to the small of my back. His breath was laced with the scent of whiskey as he deemed it appropriate to label me a "MILF." The crude comment left a sour taste in my mouth and my opinion of him plummeted even further.
Meanwhile, Sally was falling under Jake's spell, her giggles growing louder and more frequent as her cocktail glass emptied and refilled. I could see the tipsiness coloring her cheeks and brightening her eyes. Despite Jake's equally cocky demeanor, he seemed to be treating Sally with a respect that Zach evidently lacked. Or at least, that’s what it looked like from where I was sitting.
Eventually Zach’s drunken pawing and sophomoric attempts at flirtation became too much for me. I excused myself under the pretense of needing the restroom, leaving the group at the bar and welcoming the brief respite from the relentless and increasingly off-putting advances. I needed a moment alone to regroup, to shake off the unease Zach had triggered, and return with a renewed focus on celebrating my night and not letting one boorish man ruin it.
As I gave myself a moment to collect my thoughts in the bathroom, I tried to shake off the creeping irritation. Sure, Zach was a bit full of himself, but perhaps I could let my guard down a little. For Sally's sake, at least. I reapplied my lipstick, took a deep breath, and decided to be more open-minded when I returned to the bar. After all, putting up with some annoying flirting from an obnoxious drunken bro was more than doable if it meant Sally could have a little fun.
However, when I got back, a strange sight greeted me. The seats were vacant, the men's drinks half-finished and Sally's purse abandoned on the barstool.
Frowning, I flagged the bartender. "Where's my friend?" I asked, a tinge of worry to my voice.
He jerked his thumb toward the back of the establishment. "Went out back with those guys."
