“Amelia?” Bel asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Uh… I don’t have much right now. I’m sorry. Grace shouldn’t have gotten involved in my… business…”
“She means well,” she said. “And I think she sees me in you. Or you in me. I’m not sure how that goes.”
“Oh?”
“I could tell you stories about my life, but it won’t matter,” Bel said with a laugh. “The offer is there, Amelia. I know it’s been a few days, but I would still love to put something up about Josh. I’m not sure he realizes how far his artwork travels. He’s done interviews before. Cliché stuff. I was sort of hoping you’d take a more fictional spin to it.”
“Make stuff up?”
“No. Write what you see. You said it yourself about him being standoffish. Write about it. Where you met him. What you said. Then he took off? That’s fantastic. Did he do that in the past? I mean, it’s a really interesting story.”
“I’m not sure… that feels like an invasion of his privacy,” I said. “Plus, I might have something better.”
“And what could that be?”
I bit my lip as I looked back at my nightstand. “I found a letter.”
“A letter?”
“On the ground. And it’s this beautiful letter to a woman. This man - or woman - was so in love with this person… I can’t describe it quickly. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever read.”
“And you want to write about it?”
“It’s in my mind.”
“Well, you do what you feel like, Amelia. I want you to write about Josh. Anything else, it’s on your time.”
“Right. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“Of course.”
The call went dead.
I set my attention back to the stories on the bed.
Josh wanted to read one.
Then he’d tell me his story.
The question was, what did I plan on doing with his story?
He was the boy (mostly a man) who came so close to tasting what was left of my innocence, only to disappear for what felt like forever.
It was tough to think about.
I ditched everything right there on the bed and reached for my nightstand.
I wanted to read the letter again.
I wanted to be Delilah.
My shift started out crazy. A table of twenty had called to give a fifteen-minute heads up. Tables were quickly pushed together to accommodate the large group. My mind was not there, but when was it really? Running around a restaurant, taking order after order, trying to make sure everything was perfect for everyone wasn’t exactly the dream I had while sitting next to my bed during the worst of nights.
I was supposed to be in a quiet apartment, somewhere in a city, near the top floor, where I would spend hours writing the most perfect and touching story for the world to experience. And when that got the best of me, I’d sneak away to a cabin in the woods where I’d hide out some more.
Dreams were good to have.
Dreams in a way saved me when I was younger.
But now… I needed something more than just dreams.
The table of twenty was a massive reunion of old college friends. Friends who were now older, in relationships, married, divorced. The group was loud, funny, and stayed for a couple of hours.
When they finally got up to leave, a sense of relief went through me.
I looked at all of them, realizing they were my age. They were all so grown up in a way. They were living a part of life I really knew nothing about. Chasing careers instead of dreams. Finding stability instead of risk.
Ed was the guy who sat at the head of the pushed together tables and had commanded the entire group while they were there. He was the last to leave as he stood there, trying to stack plates.
“We can get that,” I said to him.
He had a clean-cut face, nice hair, and the collar of his button-down shirt stuck out of the expensive sweater he wore.
“I don’t mind helping,” he said. “We made a mess.”
“You were supposed to,” I said. “You’re going to miss your ride.”
“Not me,” he said. “I’ll meet up with them in a few. Lots of stories and memories to go through.”
“That’s not always bad,” I said.
“Here, this is for you,” he said and handed me the small leather folder. “Everything in there is yours. Have a good night.”
Just like that, Ed was gone.
I walked to one of the registers and was met by Carla.
Her bouncy ponytail and bright red lips made her a fan favorite at the restaurant.
“That guy was hot. And he was talking to you.”
“He paid his bill, Carla.”
“He lingered,” she said. “He wanted you to do the same.”
“What?”
“Oh, could you imagine? That kind of guy dragging you into the bathroom. You ripping those fancy and nice clothes of his out of his pants so your hand could get to his-”
“Maybe you should go catch up with him then,” I cut in as I tapped the screen.
“Maybe I will,” she said. “FYI, you have another table that just walked in. Total opposite of the fancy guy.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“This one is filthy looking. But in a really sexy way. I’d ride him until-”
“You're worked up tonight,” I said without looking at her.
I walked away.
I wasn’t in the mood for mindless sex banter with Carla. Sometimes it was fun. Most of the time it was annoying. And all of the time she would go too far. She had a fantasy of picking up married men while their wives were in the bathroom.
I wiped my hands on my black apron and took a deep breath as I walked through the wide-open dining room.
My next table was in the back corner. The place where people sit who didn’t want to be seen. It was never anyone good though.
Until tonight.
When I saw Josh, I froze and gasped.
I thought about smiling.
But then I saw a woman sitting across from him.
Chapter 15
How Many Times?
NOW
(Josh)
She swore it was just business.
That was the hardest part of dealing with Michelle.
She was like me and talking to her about pictures and paintings wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I normally saved those conversations for Azor, but he was usually drunk or trying to pick up a woman.
Michelle was one of the first people to really believe in me and push me. She was there during a few dark times in my life. She understood certain aspects that even Azor couldn’t understand. We knew the moment we kissed it was a bad idea, but we didn’t stop. I didn’t stop. She didn’t hesitate.
The agreement was something like friends with benefits, but it was more or less me getting wasted on my artwork and needing comfort. And in her eyes, she wanted the comfort that crossed the line into something else.
Now I sat across from her at the restaurant Amelia worked at.
The worst part was that it didn’t hit me until I saw Amelia.
My mind hadn’t been completely put together as some new ideas had been swirling around. Those ideas were based on memories that I wanted to leave behind. For good. The only way I could justify it was to drink myself stupid and pass out.