Page 31 of Every Broken Piece
I rub my temples. My birthday is Saturday, and I was hoping to be gone by then. Saying goodbye to Amelia is going to be the hardest part of all of this. Damn it, this is why I try not to let people into my bubble.
Me: I can’t this weekend. I’m going out of town
Permanently, but I don’t tell her that. I can’t tell her anything because if this man finds my friends, he can use them to get information on my whereabouts. It may sound like I'm overreacting, but it’s happened before. All of this has happened before and I’m tired of it.
Amelia: WHAT?! NO! It’s your birthday. Can’t you go out of town the next weekend? And why are you going out of town?
I knew she’d question me. In a moment of weakness, and possibly alcohol, I told her a little about myself. Not enough toput her in danger, but enough that she’s aware I have no family I’m close to. I think one of the reasons she insisted on bringing me into her fold is because she knows I’m all alone in this world.
I can’t just walk away from her. She’s the only best friend I’ve ever had.
It’s been a week, and I haven’t heard from my extortionist again. Maybe he got the money from someone else.
One more weekend. One last night with my friends. I can do that. I deserve that.
Me: The Rusty Spur
Amelia: All right! I’ll tell the others
Chapter twenty
Tess
The worn, wooden floors are sticky with spilled beer. The band is loud, the lights keeping time with the beat. Six of us are scrunched together around a café style table, all of us leaning over our elbows so we can hear each other above the music and even then we still have to shout but we don’t care because we’re all buzzed and living off the high of a fun Saturday night with friends.
I’m glad I came. I’m glad Amelia refused to take no for an answer and for once I truly feel like part of this group. This is what it feels like to belong to people. This is what it feels like to have friends.
Conor appears at my side and deposits a bright green margarita in front of me, the rim crusted in salt with a thick lime slice sliding off the edge. I smile my thanks instead of trying to shout it. He smiles back and elbows his way between me and Josh, one of the other guys in the friend group. Without missing a beat Josh slides to the left to make room, keeping up a conversation with Bella, Amelia’s other friend.
The table is littered with empty beer bottles and margarita glasses, condensation rings, and spilled alcohol. A red plastic basket of popcorn sits in the middle. Josh dips his hand in and pulls out a palmful, shoving it in his mouth as he nods at whatever Bella’s saying.
Amelia’s standing behind Greg, hands in the air as she wiggles her hips to the beat of the music, her eyes half closed. For once I don’t want the peace of my apartment. I want loud country music, line dancing, laughter. Friendship. Belonging.
“Having fun?” Conor shouts close to my ear.
I nod as I sip my margarita and lean back to observe, a half smile tugging at my lips.
“Happy birthday, Tess.” I don’t know how it’s possible since we’re crammed together, but he’s closer now, our shoulders, hips, and even shoes pressed together.
“Thank you,” I yell.
He tilts toward me, his lips at my ear. I try to lean away but Josh is on my other side and there’s no room. Taking advantage of our close proximity, Conor swoops in quickly and plants a kiss to my cheek, then rears back and turns his head away as pink creeps up his neck.
I’m frozen, blinking furiously, the drink halfway to my mouth. I’m thirty years old today and I have no idea what to do with that kiss. Yell thank you? Smile? I don’t want to encourage him, but I don’t want to embarrass him either. What I do know is that I don’t want to kiss him.
All night he’s been super polite, making sure I always have a drink in hand, sticking almost too close. I’m beginning to think that Amelia’s right. He might like me. And if this were another life, I might like him back. He’s slim, with black rimmed glasses, a little on the nerdy side. I think he works in IT, but I can’t remember.
“Let’s dance!” Amelia holds her beer high and lets out a loudyeeee-haw, then tilts the bottle up and drains the last of it. A group of men a table over halt their conversation to clap. Amelia lifts her arm and bows low, almost tipping over until Greg grabs her and hauls her upright, eliciting a laugh from the men.
Conor makes a grab for my hand just as I’m reaching for my drink. The glass tips and we both lunge for it, our hands and arms colliding as the bright green liquid sloshes all over the place.
“Shit,” Conor says, righting the glass, then shaking the wetness off his hand. The pink has crawled from his neck to his cheeks.
“S’okay,” I say, my words slurring. “I didn’t need it anyway.” I think that was my fourth, which is two too many.
“I’ll get you another,” Conor says.
I put my hand on his forearm and squeeze. “No. Don’t. I’ve had enough. In fact...” I look around the bar, my head on a swivel, causing the lights to swirl. I have to grab hold of the table to keep the room from spinning. I turn to Conor and blink because he’s so close our noses bump. “You know where the bathroom is?”
