Page 22 of Saint Baptiste 2

That fucking Baptiste.

It had been three days, and I hadn’t heard from him. I blocked him, but so? He had several phones, and he knew exactly how to get to my house. Knew the way there just as well as he knew his way around my fucking pussy. I really should’ve been happy. I needed him to leave me alone. I had to let him go. But... regardless of what I needed and what I knew about us, there was this part of me that wanted him to call. Wanted him to chase me. Wanted him to give a fuck. Wanted what I imagined that night to be real. But what the past few days had shown me was that I was more delulu than I thought I was. The nigga didn’t give a fuck.

With a smile, I said, “Lemon drop.” I paused. “Start a tab.”

He stood up and grunted. “Mmmh. One of them days huh?”

“One of them months,” I corrected, before pulling my ringing phone from my purse.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that, love,” He apologized as he got to working on my drink.

I didn’t say anything; couldn’t. I was caught off guard by a text from Sage. I shouldn’t have checked.

I rolled my eyes, shut my phone off and stuffed it back into my purse.

My knee started to bounce as I thought about them, sitting at his hospital bed like one big ass happy family. I was sick of this shit. I left the house because I was tired of thinking. Tired of sinking. That’s all I had done since Sage left. Sink. Further and further... and further. I struggled to get out of bed for two days. It took a lot out of me. And on the day that I finally find the strength to, this happens? For two days I did nothing but think and cry. All I wanted to do was enjoy my fucking night. I couldn’t even get that.

I thought since today I actually did something, I had found my second wind. But Sage’s annoying ass just had to ruin me. Again. She had been doing that a lot. She had a way of tearing me the fuck up and just waltzing away as if she hadn’t done a got damn thing. Like a puppy who hadn’t been properly housetrained. That’s what she was. Except she was a full-grown bitch, who just did not give a fuck about making a mess. But, that was Sage. Been that way since we were kids.

Sighing, I shook my thoughts a way and scratched at the back of my head.

I couldn’t sink here. That shit would be embarrassing. Instead, I put my focus on the fine ass bartender. He was very nice looking. Tall. Caramel. Bearded. Heavily tattooed. And I mean... heavily. There were tattoos on his neck and his hands too. On the side of his face, right next to his ear was a dainty one. A crescent moon. If I wasn’t staring, I would have missed it.

Once he finished preparing the drink, he put a napkin in front of me and sat it down on top of it. “Lemon drop. Extra vodka. Light lemon,” he said with a wink.

I lightly laughed. “Thank you. The extra vodka is appreciated.”

He smiled. “Enjoy. You need anything else, let me know aight?”

I nodded. “I sure will.”

He nodded, tapped the bar, and walked off to tend the rest of the customers.

I felt slighted.

That was new. He didn’t flirt. Was friendly, yeah. But there was absolutely no flirting.

I insecurely ran my hand up the back of my head. Maybe I should have done something other than the bun. Probably should have put on a little bit of makeup. Should have at least hidden my sad eyes behind a couple of swipes of concealer. Maybe I was a little too plain. I mean, yeah, I didn’t come out for sex. Like I said, she didn’t respond to anyone but him. But then again... she hadn’t been introduced to him yet. He had potential. He was a little different from them. He had a thing about him.

I grabbed the thin black straw and stirred my cocktail, watching as he worked the bar. Marveled over those tattoos. Wondered where they stopped. Wanted to ask him about the crescent moon on his face. Was tempted to throw myself at him. Desperate? Maybe. Pitiful? Absolutely. Especially for a bitch like me. I didn’t do that. I didn’t have to do that. But then again, I wasn’t myself. I was... sad. Sad Girl Kiki and Fun Girl Kiki were two completely different women. Sad Girl Kiki didn’t go to bars. She did her drinking at home. Sad Girl Kiki should have stayed her pathetic ass in the fucking bed.

I stood in the middle of the empty dancefloor with my arms wrapped around my body, swaying my hips to Settling by Summer Walker. I requested it. I was in a zone. In this strange space between happy and sad. It was hazy. It was chaotic. It was unstable. Could’ve been the alcohol. Could’ve been the fact that I was outside. Either way, I didn’t give a fuck. I just... A bitch felt good. I was on drink number... shit I didn’t know. I had thrown them the fuck back that was for sure.

A lot of the people that were here when I showed up had left. It wasn’t nearly as crowded. The population of blacks had decreased by one, leaving just me and the bartender. That group of rowdy rude drunk men were long gone, as was that poor waitress. I made sure I slid her a twenty on her way out for her trouble. She didn’t serve me but because she had to serve rude, funky ass drunks all night, I decided to do something nice for her. I wasn’t mean; I just wasn’t friendly. There was a big difference.

Anyway... I was swaying. And I felt good as hell. Lighter. Free. Like I was the only one in the bar. I was living in the moment. Taking advantage of it too. I had to. Didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I could end up sitting in that big ass house, stuck in bed again, a sinking, depressed mess with her... this... person I turned in to. She was intolerably draining. All she did was think, wallow, and drown.

Or worst. I could end up calling him. A magician who could take all of the pain away. But only stayed away when I was with him. That he dangerous. But that’s not what made it dangerous. It was the sad fact that the same thing that made me feel good, made me feel useless too. I couldn’t call him. I had to stay away from him. Because, that last time, I went past the point of being a little ‘delulu’. I actually started to believe my delusion. I started to think that we really could work. When I laid with him for those hours, just...enjoying him. When the sex turned into sensual love making... I thought he loved me. I mean, truly. I thought he could actually tell me that and mean it. I thought it was actually a possibility. Thought for more than a second that I wasn’t that girl who didn’t get the fairytale love. Thought I’d get it. Thought that maybe I was just one of those bitches that got it the unconventional way. You know... like the around the way girl that had to kiss a couple frogs to get to her prince or some goofy, shit like that.

Delusion had come dangerously close to insanity. The straight jacket kind because, I’d have to be that type of insane to believe I would ever get any kind of happily ever after with his ass. How? After the shit we did at Pandora’s? But God. He made me feel. Like this. Intoxicated. Without the liquor. Like freedom. Like swaying and giggling. He was a limitless high. Regardless of how he made me feel... I wouldn’t call him. Couldn’t because of that dangerous little reminder that lingered in the back of my mind.

So, what was I supposed to do? Hm? Start another one, with another one? I didn’t want to get back on that wheel. Like some hamster, going, and going. Running in place, at full speed. Around and around, and around again. I was so got damn tired of going around and around. I didn’t... I didn’t want to start another fucking cycle.

Tomorrow scared me. My choices were... horrifying.

A hand sliding across my waist brought me back to where I was supposed to be. The present moment. How a bitch slip with a system full of liquor? My God, Sad Girl Kiki was pathetic.

“Come sit down with me,” said the deep voice in my ear.

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