Page 14 of Deprivation

As I wrap a towel around myself, I pray Jake and the guys aren’t bailing on me. I reach my phone and look down at the screen, Olivia. I can’t swipe my phone fast enough to take the call. “Oh, my God. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe I get to finally hear your voice,” I shriek.

“I know,” Olivia shouts back at me. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I managed to get the role of understudy for Glinda inWickedwhen it comes to the Altria in Richmond. I should be back there in about a week or so. You’re getting the biggest hug when I get there.”

“Oh, Liv, that’s the best news ever. How much notice do you get if they’re going to use you on stage? I don’t want to miss seeing you perform.”

“I doubt you get much, but I’ll see if there are last minute seats available, if I ever get the call and you’re actually off,” she says excitedly. “To be honest, I’m just tickled to be involved withWickedat all. It’s one of my favorite productions, and I think I’ll learn a lot being part of the ensemble.” Olivia has managed to perform quite a bit in the Big Apple over the years, but I think this would be her biggest role.

“They’re going to fall in love with you, Liv. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Kat. I wish I could talk longer, but I have to run. Still have to pay the bills, so duty calls. Talk to you later?”

“You don’t even have to ask. I can’t wait until you get here.” I hang up the phone, thankful for both her call and her wonderful news. It’s immeasurable how much I’ve missed her.

I look at the clock, 6:35 p.m. It’s time to throw on some clothes and head to The Sports Page. Luckily, it’s not far from my home. I’m not a heavy drinker, nor would I attempt driving under the influence. Music and dancing are my drugs of choice. I plan to drag Nate and a few of the guys into the corner of the bar where we can dance, sports bar or not. Finding some tight black jeans and a black camisole, I decide to cover it with a lacy, sheer black top. I place my hair in a loose braid that trails over one shoulder and finish my outfit with some black boots. My makeup is not over the top. It’s the guys and a sports bar, for goodness’ sake, but I’m done feeling like a wallflower. I grab my keys and clutch and head toward the car.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I arrive at The Sports Page, recognizing at least two Ford F-150 trucks with firefighter plates. Two cars over from the nearest red truck sits Jake’s shiny black Expedition.Ah. It’s amazing how much better I feel when I know my boys are in the house. I don’t think I would have survived the last few years without them.Walking toward the door, I smile at the hostess who’s quite familiar with our bunch and our shenanigans.

“Hey, Kat, boys are over there,” she sings, pointing toward the boisterous corner of the bar where we try to keep our antics from spilling onto other patrons. I pass the large oak bar to the left. There are colorful libations dotting the shelves over the bar, back dropped by mirrors to exaggerate the view. The place is small and the food is affordable, fast, and completely unhealthy.

Jake grabs my arm and pulls me over to a seat next to him once I reach their table, sliding a beer in my direction. Across from him sit Nate Mars and Mark Snow. Nate Mars is tall and broad with a personality to match. He’s a light skinned black man, openly gay, but not flamboyant. You could get lost in his smiling, amber eyes. He tends to keep his relationships private. Unless you are part of his inner circle, you’d have no idea he’s strictly dickly. To his right, Mark Snow is the epitome of a cocky, self-absorbed firefighter playboy. He’s always down for a good time and isn’t afraid to share the details of his conquests with those around him, whether they want to hear them or not.

I look toward the bar and see my old friend, George “Huggie” Hughes. He’s been a close pal to this group since back in the EMS days, particularly with Jake and Mel. While they decided to follow a medical career, he’s always wanted to be a career firefighter. He’s fairly quiet but wickedly smart.

“Hey, you look good, Kit Kat,” Jake says with a bit of a slur.I think I might be driving this one home to Melanie when this is over. “Did you try the sleeping pill?”

“No, not yet. I was afraid to take it knowing I’d be drinking tonight. Which is silly, since I think I’m going to take one before I go to bed.” I’m so ready for a good night’s sleep. “Heck, I might need a tranquilizer to deal with Rachel and her cream cheese family on Sunday. Did I tell you they’re having a party to celebrate being married seven years? Good grief.”

“Well, I’m no drug pusher. I just want to see if it’ll help you. It’s terrible seeing you like this for so long. I know we don’t need quite as much sleep in our twenties, but you can’t continue like this indefinitely,” Jake remarks with notable concern.

“I’m barely holding on to my twenties, Jake. I need sleep now,” I joke.

Looking toward the front of the restaurant, I watch Jamie “The Hammer” Sherman turn all of the heads in the bar as he walks through the doors. Jamie’s built similarly to Nate, but bigger. He’s a strong, reserved, but determined, man whose skin reminds me of expensive, silky, dark chocolate. He doesn’t say much but would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. If Jamie is having, or ever has had, a relationship while I’ve known him, he has kept that shit under wraps.

As Jake and I continue our private conversation, we notice Bobbi Greer walking over our way. I wonder who she’ll set her sights on this time. Bobbi is a cougar, only in her late thirties but older than every man here. She works part-time in our ER, and I’ve often suspected her employment there is merely a ploy to obtain fresh meat. She slithers over to the side of the table where Mark is sitting. This may be her lucky day. She places a salon manicured hand onto Mark’s forearm, leaning forward to whisper something I’m sure none of the rest of us really want to hear. Granted, Mark’s probably had more to drink than any of the rest of us, however, I’m not sure that’s the reason he quickly stands and says, “Later.”

The two of them make haste toward the door, and we all howl with laughter, trying not to think too hard about what’s about to happen there. At least she’ll get him home alive.

Jake stands and says, “All right, ladies, I need to get my ass home before Melanie sends out a search party.”

“I can drive you, Jake, you’ve had one too many,” I quip. Jake lives about forty minutes from my home, but I’d do anything for him and his family.

“Nah, I’ve got him, Kat,” Huggie mutters. “I live much closer to him and can say hi to Mel while I’m there. I don’t think I’ve seen her in about six months.”

“Okay, Hugs. Thanks. Tell her I said hi.” I kiss Jake and Huggie as they head for the door and turn quickly to offer a hug to Nate and a quick wave to Jamie. While some girls enjoy ‘girls’ night’, I’m thankful for my evenings with the boys. Who needs a boyfriend when I can pretend I have it all with this crew. I thank the bartenders and wait staff for their usual great service and head toward the car, anxious to get home and see if I’ll finally have a better night’s sleep.

Back home, I shower again, and I’m back in bed after a half a dose of the prescription sleep aid. I place my EarPods in and start some music. This has always been my routine. It puts me in my happy place so I can attempt to drift off to sleep. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t. As I listen to “Sweet but Psycho” by Ben Schuller, I ponder whether my bar mates tonight have ever described me in such a manner. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn up the tunes.

* * *

Nick

Well, that was frustrating. I pull up to my home, parking my car in the garage and practically stomp my feet like a disgruntled toddler as I march into the house. Meeting Calina was supposed to be my key to getting this awful tension out of my body. I often find it difficult to finish dinner before wanting to get her to bed and make a meal out of her, however, tonight, I wanted to leave early for an entirely different reason.

The more we sat making idle chit chat, the more annoyed I got. I contemplated whether I needed to say, “Let’s get the check,” and head for her place or bag it and call it a night. The longer I stayed, the more agitated I became.What the fuck is wrong with me?I found myself examining her in detail. Her lips were suddenly too thin, her teeth too white, her breasts too large…Hell, is that even a thing? The evening was going nowhere quick, and all I could think about was dropping by The Sports Page for a drink.

I knew the place. It was a small, local hole-in-the-wall where rowdy people gathered to drink and watch their favorite sports teams. I’d gone for a beer or two after soccer with a few of the guys on occasion, so I knew how small it was. There’d be no claiming coincidence if I arrived there this evening. And what was the point? That girl is completely off limits, and I don’t know any of her friends. I’m sure we have absolutely nothing in common. It’s morbid curiosity at its best that has me wondering what she’ll be wearing, how she might be swaying her hips back and forth as she “got her groove on,” as she put it. I wanted to watch from a distance how this beauty behaved amongst her friends when she was unaware.Holy fuck, I’ve turned into a creeper.

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