Of course, I do not.
Answering on the second ring, he simply rasps, “Sugar.” Hearing his voice over the phone calling me sugar makes me freeze. He really sounds great over the phone. I hesitate a couple beats before I hear him again, this time biting out, “Gabby, are you there? You okay?”
“I’m here. Sorry. Fine. I’m fine,” I ramble. “I got distracted for a second. Um, I’m at Target and got a call from Lilly who got a call from Reagan and they’ve planned a girl’s night tonight. See, Lilly is pretty persistent, even though I can still say no to her. But Reagan has a baby and her husband’s on call a lot. It’s harder for her to get out, but she can go tonight. I don’t know what…I mean, if we had plans…well, if you had plans…” I pull in a big breath and try to finish strong. “Anyway, I’ve got girl’s night tonight?”
Damn. I totally did not finish strong.
“Sounds good, I’ll wait on you,” he returns quickly.
“You’ll wait on me?”
“Yeah, at your house. You still shouldn’t stay alone and I’d like to see you even if it’s late.”
“Um, okay.”
“Works out, I think we have a few leads on Harper. I might be working late tonight anyway.”
“Oh. You know how to get in and everything, right? I mean if you get home … well, to my house before me?” I stammer on.
“Yeah, I know how to get in. You go and have fun.”
“Thanks.”
“See you tonight but keep texting me. And call if you need something.”
“Oh, okay.” With that, I hear him disconnect.
As I stand next to the Fruit Loops staring at my phone, I realize that it’s getting less scary all the time. Shaking off my latest Jude trance, thinking they’re so powerful they even work over the phone in the middle of Target, I head to the granola. I have an evening out to get ready for. With a smile spreading across my face, I make my way through the aisles quicker than normal to get myself home and start my getting ready to go out routine.
Happy, excited, and a little nervous, I didn’t realize until much later that I drove home, parked my car, got my things in, and finally let Mia do her thing without my chest tightening like it usually does. I reset my alarm, text Jude, and skipped off to my shower to get ready for a night out with friends.
Chapter Seven
If He Sang Everything He Said
“Its last call ladies. We’re already closed but the bartender stayed late for you. This is it—one more round?”
This came from our super cute and young waiter, Cody. I bet he’s barely old enough to serve our drinks. He’s been flirting all night, telling us about his muscle car he’s rebuilding and how it’s going be a chick magnet. Not surprisingly, the longer we’re here, the three of us agree more than ever that yes, indeed, his muscle car is definitely going to win him a boat load of chicks.
“One more round. I’m pumping and dumping tonight,” Reagan announces to young Cody, who probably has no idea what pumping and dumping means.
Lilly leans over so far she’s in danger of toppling out of the booth and whispers loudly, “She’s nursing, like, her baby. And we all want her baby to be smart when he grows up so he can drive muscle cars like you, Cody, and nail hot chicks because of his hot car. So, she has to ‘pump and dump,’” Lilly uses her fingers to make air quotes, “so he’s smart and not stupid because she fed him Raspberry Vodka Collins.” Lilly, happy with her explanation, smiles as if she’s just explained the meaning of life to young Cody before she all of a sudden has an epiphany. “We should get two rounds since they’re closing!”
Not knowing where my reasoning is coming from since I was way past my normal level of imbibing, I slur my words a bit. “I think one more’s enough for me. How ‘bout we get four and share the last one?”
“Perfect. We’ll take four!” Reagan agrees and Cody heads to the bar. He got quiet after Lilly explained how breasts are used for feeding small humans and not simply for the pleasure of the male population.
“I can’t believe we couldn’t find his tattoo on the internet,” I almost whine. Looking down at our brown paper tablecloth, I study the scribbles drawn by me trying to replicate Jude’s tattoo to share with my girlies. Then, even though they’ve never laid eyes on Jude’s tattoo, Lilly and Reagan try to correct me and start to draw their own imaginary replicas. We’ve Googled it, taken pictures with our phones, and have even tried to upload it to some ‘Name That Tattoo’ website that Reagan was sure she thought existed because she saw an infomercial for it in the middle of the night when she was up nursing Ben. But, nada. Not one clue to his super cool, winged tattoo.
“Give it up on the tattoo, Gab.” Lilly waves her hand to me before she continues with a sly smile. “Maybe you’ll figure it out when you get to lick it.”
“Shut up.” I smile, beyond being embarrassed about anything at this point. “But I bet it tastes really good.” Lilly and Reagan agree with sage faces.
“Here’re your drinks, ladies, and I’m tabbing you out,” Cody says. “You’re calling a cab, right? I mean, I don’t want to have to wrestle you three down for your keys,” he adds, back to flirting.
“We’re Ubering it,” I exclaim.
Just then my phone, which is sitting on the table since it was being used as a Tattoo Recognition Device, starts crankin’ out All Summer Long by Kid Rock. We’ve all decided my iPhone, from this time forward, will be referred to as a Tattoo Recognition Device. I look down at my Tattoo Recognition Device, also known as the TRD, and it informs me that Jude Ortiz is calling.
“Oh shit. It’s Jude Ortiz,” I say, reading the screen of my TRD. “He’s never called me before.”
“Well he’s had his tongue down your throat and your shirt on the floor, you’re gonna miss the call. Answer the freakin’ TRD,” Reagan panics.
I slide my thumb across my TRD and say in a voice way too high to be my own, “Hi.”
“Gabby?” Jude rasps.
“Hey, yeah, it’s me. Sorry,” I apologize for … something.
“You okay? You still at the restaurant?”
I sigh big into the phone, loving the sound of his voice. “I’m great. Still at Bonefish. We got our last round and, oh, thanks Cody, we’re just getting our bill. Whatcha’ doin’, Jude?” I ask as I hand over my Visa to Cody.
“Who’s Cody?” Jude’s raspy voice turns surly and terse.
“He’s our waiter. He’s gotta muscle car and he’s hoping to nail some hot chicks with it.” I pause, putting my hand up to cup my mouth around my TRD speak low. “But I don’t know how well that’s gonna work out for him, if you ya know what I mean.”
“Sugar, how much have you had to drink?”
“I dunno. I’m gonna have to check my bill, but Cody just took it away with my Visa.”
“Who’s driving?”
“Hmm?” He sure is asking a lot of questions and it’s hard to concentrate when his voice is coming through the TRD so close to my ear. It’s like he’s talking only to me.