Page 27 of One More Chance
Chapter 13
LOGAN KNEW THAT CHARLOTTEwas going to be at the party, and the fact that he rolled in three hours late meant that she was going to be there first, ready for him.
He shook his head. Get her out of your mind, man.
He wasn’t nervous meeting models or superstars, but tonight, his stomach was wrenched tightly as he pulled open the heavy door of the Last Chance Tavern. It had taken his eyes a minute to adjust, but as soon as they did, it was as though they were drawn to hers, like a magnet.
Throughout the night he tried to sneak glances at her. And even when he wasn’t trying to sneak glances, her glossy hair would catch in the dim light of the tavern, drawing his eyes back to his first love again and again.
He knew that going to her, talking to her, would be the mature and manly thing to do, and he was going to, after the next beer...
Freddie came up beside his older brother, “She’s drinking this.” Freddie shoved a glass of strong-smelling craft beer into his hand. “Go give the lady her drink.”
Logan pursed his lips at his brother. “I was just on my way over to say hi.”
“Sure you were,” Freddie grinned and disappeared into the crowd.
It was now or never. Logan took a deep breath but didn’t get one step away from the bar before a tall bleached blonde lady blocked his path.
“Hi,” she tilted her head and twirled her frizzy hair around her finger like a teenager pretending to be coy.
“Hello,” he replied and tried to step around her.
“Logan, it’s me.” She gripped his forearms and looked into his eyes. Hers were hooded with intoxication.
He squinted and stared at the woman in front of him, puzzled. Was she one of his mom’s friends? Her leathery face was worn and tired looking. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Logan, it’s Stacy.” she giggled, puffing up her chest and leaning into him.
Logan squinted at the woman. With a great amount of imagination, he could see her in her cheerleader uniform, her blonde ponytail swinging as she sashayed down the hallways of Chance Rapids High, her gaggle of followers not far behind.
“Wow, Stacy, I thought that you left town.”
“I did,” she shouted over the band. “College wasn’t for me.” She wavered on her feet as she reached to grasp Logan’s hand. “How ‘bout we pick up where we left off.”
Logan took a deep breath. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.
“I see you haven’t lost your confidence,” he said through a smile. It was the only nice thing he could think of to say.
“That’s not all I haven’t lost,” she said and pressed up against him.
Logan had no idea what she meant, and he guessed she didn’t either. He sidestepped away from her. “Nice to see you, Stacy.” Before he could get away, she grabbed his hand and clumsily caressed his wrist with her other hand, her daggerlike nails leaving light scratch marks on his forearm. He gently removed her hand from his arm, “I have to go... talk to someone...”
“What, you aren’t even going to buy me a drink?”
“Do you think you need one?” She looked like she was one drink away from having her hair held back as she puked into the grimy toilet at the bar.
Her mouth contorted and she glared at him. “Fuck you. I don’t need this.”
She turned on her heel and wobbled back to her table. Logan watched and shook his head as she and her friends downed another round of shooters.
“Can I have your attention please?” Freddie said and tapped on the microphone. “Get out your tickets. The lovely Charlotte O’Hare is going to draw for the signed Logan Brush jersey.”
Logan turned to face the stage. Charlotte looked radiant under the stage lights. She and Stacy were the same age but were polar opposites, a stark example of a hard versus healthy lifestyle.
