(It is still a couple minutes to midnight. I made it!)
It feels like when I was ten and walked home from a sleepover in the dead of winter. I created a heap of trouble for myself that night and I’m figuring to make more with what I have planned this night.
I tip my head back and let the burning tequila fuel my courage.
Damn…I love/hate tequila.
There is a thumping bass and a mass of gyrating bodies ten feet away on the dance floor but I’m not tempted to join.
My eyes continually scan the crowd for a specific set of wide shoulders and curly topped mop. It’s what caught my attention in the first place. It all works so well together to make him look amazingly kind and fun and everything a woman needs right then.
“Hey, can I buy you a drink?”
I look over, it’s a generic suit guy of about forty.
“No, Thanks.” I answer and walk away from his attention.
There he is.
So fucking handsome out there on the dance floor.
He’s jumping, dancing, spilling beer on his buddy who is much too drunk to care.
I throw back my fourth shot.
He grinds himself against a blonde women in a leopard lycra dress that’s at least ten years his senior.
I can’t help but compare myself; I’m vastly younger and hotter.
This thought helps me almost as much as the tequila.
This is the third night I’ve watched this scenario play out. I know his game.
He’ll rub and kiss a woman until twenty minutes to last call, then throw an arm around her shoulders and direct her out to the parking lot.
Surething and he will get into the backseat of his pickup and rock it for a good five minutes before they drive away.
He drops his bang buddy at her home, gets pancakes at a diner and drives on home.
Tonight’s going to go a bit differently.
I’m done watching from the dark corner of the bar.
I walk sexy, confident, and yes quite tipsy , right up to his group of friends.
They stop dancing to stare, as I knew they would.
He doesn’t notice me for a few song beats but then, that perfect moment happens.
“Carrie! Oh god!” He yells and physically recoils at the sight of me.
Oh I grin so big at the fear and terror on his stupid handsome face. It is everything I’ve dreamed.
He throws the older woman off his arm and I can just see the wheels beginning to turn.
He’s working up an excuse. A lie.
Some bullshit that he thinks will fix all that he’s done.
I don’t need to hear it.
I laugh in his face and throw my wedding ring at his face.
He flinches as it bounces off his forehead and into the crowd, scooped up by a man that disappears the next second.
I don’t care at all.