He can’t expect me to hang out around that big old creepy house by myself ready and waiting for him to use me. I’m not a piece of furniture. If I’m going to get my life back on track, I’m going to have to start making friends, connections, getting out and seeing the world. If I’m going to get my life back on track, I can’t be completely reliant on him.
I want to, though.
More than anything in the world, I want an easy life with just him and I and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. I just don’t know if he really wants that, too.
13
Mia:
I sip at my margarita. It’s really sour and really strong, and I immediately get a headache. Latin music fills the air in the tiny little nightclub, and Dyta has already ditched me to dance with some sexy stranger with tight pants and expensive leather shoes.
So much for girls’ night out.
I idly pick at some tortilla chips, watching the world go on around me, all these people without a care in the world, dancing and drinking on a Tuesday night. I can’t help but wonder if this is what my life would’ve looked like if I never got married.
The stark reality hits me, if I didn’t marry Bartek, I’d probably have ended up with Serafin, and who knows what that would’ve looked like. I’m sad for all the time we lost together, and I wonder if I would’ve been there for him after his accident if he would’ve ended up a different man.
It’s not like I don’t like him the way he is, it’s just that I don’t like being left in the dark.
Maybe this is his way of punishing me for doing the same thing to him.
I take it in stride, crunching on chips, sipping on my drink, and shooting Dyta a thumbs up when she throws her arms up in the air and screams for me to come join her on the dance floor.
I’m really not the kind of girl who dances.
I’d much rather be somewhere quiet. I stand up from the table and walk over to Dyta, slipping some cash into her bra to cover our tab. She looks disappointed for about two seconds when I tell her I’m going to head out, but then that handsome stranger scoops her up in his arms and she’s back to her version of dancing that looks much more like fucking with clothes on.
As I make my way through the crowded bar, a man sitting in the corner catches my eye. He’s scrolling through his cellphone idly, and doesn’t seem to be paying attention to much of anything, but I bet that’s exactly what Serafin wanted.
Fabian has always had it out for me. He was always jealous that I took Serafin’s attention, and I bet he’s been following me all day on Serafin’s orders, hoping he’ll find some dirt on me. I almost wish I had the balls to get out on that dance floor and put on a show.
Instead, I muster up all the confidence I have and storm over to the table. “Finding what you’re looking for?” I ask.
He looks up at his phone, and he seems startled by my presence.
“Hey Mia, what are you doing here?” he asks. “Did you actually manage to drag Serafin out to La Sirena? I’ve been trying to get him to come for years. I’m impressed!” He looks over my shoulder, like he expects to see Serafin standing behind me.
“He didn’t send you to spy on me?” I ask.
“I haven’t talked to him all day. I figured you guys were holed up screwing each other stupid. I stopped trying to call.”
My anger turns into worry for an instant. I thought these two worked together. If Serafin had to go out of town on business, surely he’d tell Fabian. I don’t know if it’s safe for me to say much more, but I realize standing here like a dear in headlights probably isn’t sending the best message.
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
A knockout woman with eyelashes so long they nearly touch her forehead and hair so dark black it’s almost purple comes up to the table and slides in the booth next to him, a margarita in each hand. “Who’s your friend?” she asks.
“This is Mia,” he says.
“THE Mia,” she says, showing off her perfectly white teeth as she smiles. “You really do exist? I thought Serafin was just making things up so he wouldn’t have to come on double dates with us.”
“I told you she existed, babe,” Fabian says, wrapping his arm around her. “We went to high school together.”
“Well, Mia, you look like you haven’t aged a day since then. It’s really nice to meet you. I’m Magda.” She reaches out and takes my hand, shaking it. “This place is awesome, isn’t it? Do you come here often?”
“She asks a lot of questions,” Fabian says.
“It’s called making conversation.” She winks at me. “If you didn’t know any better, you’d think these guys were raised in a barn, am I right?”
I don’t know why, but I get a weird vibe from her. She’s being perfectly nice. She’s super pretty. She obviously has Fabian wrapped around her finger, and has given me no reason not to like her, but I just have this weird feeling she’s interrogating me.
I don’t know why, but my mind instantly wonders if Fabian isn’t the first King she’s been with.
“I’m gonna head back to the house. I don’t want to interrupt your date. If you hear from Serafin can you please let me know?” I ask.
“Is everything alright?” he asks. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”
You’d like that, wouldn’t you, I want to say, but I know if I want to be a part of Serafin’s life, his friends are part of the package deal. “I just haven’t seen him since last night. He’s probably still working.”
Fabian nods. He picks up his phone and slides out of the booth, pushing through the crowd.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up, love,” Magda says with reassuring smile that kind of makes me sick to my stomach. Maybe these margaritas are just going to my head. She probably means exactly what she says, but I can’t help trying to read into it. “You sure you’re alright to leave by yourself?”
“I’m not some fucking damsel in distress,” I say.
She puts her hands up in the air. “Woah, no need to be hostile. I never let my girl friends travel alone. You really don’t know what goes on in any of those cab drivers’ minds. A pretty girl like you, all by yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little on edge. I just moved back to the city and I fully admit I have a chip on my shoulder.”
“Well, I’m happy to be the welcome wagon,” she says. She reaches in her black Gucci bag that probably costs as much as a year’s worth of rent at my apartment, and slides me a shiny black business card. “That’s my cellphone number on there. You ever want to go out for drinks or manicures, I’m your girl. And if you’re looking for work, I think you’d make a great fit at Club Taboo.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Thanks,” I barely squeak out. The wildest sex I’ve ever had in my life was last night in Serafin’s office. I don’t think that’s adequate experience to work at a place like that, but by the way her eyes are planted on my breasts and the way her hand grazes mine as she pulls away from handing me the card, I can’t help but feel like she wouldn’t mind training me.