Page 9 of The Renter
“I parked it in the association lot. That way, if someone drops by, they can park in the driveway,” I say, not knowing why I’m over-explaining.
“You can easily fit three cars in the driveway. We do it all the time,” she says, drying herself and taunting me. That perfect smile stays on her face, and I realize I am so curious about this person.
“My friends are at the bar down the street. They’ll take me home. But if you would like my number …” Dani lets the offer hang, waiting for me to make the next move.
I throw a towel around my waist and briskly walk upstairs to the office to grab my phone. I smirk at the thought that we didn’t even make it to my room—the primary suite. Maybe that would’ve been too weird, considering this is her aunt’s place.
When I come back downstairs, she’s already dressed and ready to leave. I think about how fast that was and hope everything is okay.I should not have come inside of her.
She types in her number, calls herself from my phone, gives me a quick peck, and then she’s out the door.
5
What the fuck just happened? I walk down the hill toward our favorite bar in Fontana, a dumb smile plastered on my face as I think about Adam. “The Renter,” I whisper aloud. I shake my head in disbelief, still smiling.
I show the bouncer my ID and walk in—a memory of being here underage flashes through my mind. No blonds, I remind myself—that’s been my rule ever since Sorin.
My friends squeal when they see me, immediately noting my wet hair. Then they start pounding their fists on the bar. It looks like they’ve kept the party going in my absence. I check the time and realize it’s 7:53 p.m. That quickie was anything but quick.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Kelsey shouts before I even sit down.
I nod, smiling, and raise my hand to get Ben’s attention. He’s a fixture at Charlie’s, one of the few bars around Geneva Lake that hasn’t gone upscale to cater to the Chicago tourists. Ben’s been bartending around here so long that he’s celebrated both my fake and actual twenty-first birthdays. Well, my belated twenty-first, after I got back from studying abroad.
“Ben, I just nailed a random man and I’m feeling high on life, so whatever cocktail suits that vibe!” I twirl my finger in a circle, gesturing for him to surprise me.
“Dish! Dish! Dish!” Sarah chants, patting my wet hair.
“I’m still processing!” I shout over the music. “But let’s just say he had me for dinner!”
We all scream, and I realize that maybe my time at home this summer will be a little less terrible than anticipated.
6
Saturday, May 7th
“Dani,” I murmur to myself, imagining her.
I missed my planned coffee on the patio this morning; my daydreams in bed kept me entertained.
This was not at all what I expected for the summer. I wanted to get away from friends and family and their incessant opinions about my divorce and what I should be doing with my life. To some, I’m the biggest asshole on the planet because I left my infertile wife. But it was down to so much more than that. I’ve felt alone for the last few years. To my unhappily married friends, I’m a hero who got out of an unfulfilling marriage to explore the unknown.
Sure, fucking twenty-somethings is par for the course for divorced guys, but I didn’t plan this. I didn’t plan on having new women in my life for a while. I wanted to focus on myself and rethink if my business was my purpose. But then this fucking goddess was delivered to my door.
Shaking my head, I can’t believe I fucked her without a condom. This isn’t how I should be behaving. While I want kids,getting a random girl pregnant so soon after the divorce would be a disaster.
No more unprotected sex, Adam.No more. You’re too fucking old to be rolling the dice like that.
I throw on black joggers with a black T-shirt to walk up the hill to the convenience store. As I walk, I think it’s interesting how hilly this area of Wisconsin is and how sharply the topography declines to the lake.
Some people call this area the Hamptons of the Midwest, with mansions worth twenty-plus million scattered along the lakefront. But that wasn’t the vibe I was going for this summer. I could have stayed at one of my friend’s lakefront homes or rented a mansion, but I wanted simplicity and solitude.
I didn’t want to bump into people I know, rehashing the same old conversations about what I’m doing, where I’m investing, or what sectors are exciting.
My midlife crisis is definitely kicking in now that I’ve slept with a twenty-something. I scoff to myself. Maybe it happens like this for the other guys I know. However, I laugh at the thought of a girl in a bikini knocking on any of my other divorced friends’ doors.
Staring at the condom section in the convenience store, I don’t know what to get. I haven’t bought condoms in over a decade. I blankly examine the options, eventually picking a brand I used before committing to my ex.
I grab one box, then hesitate. Something tells me Dani and I will be at this many, many more times this summer. Carrying three more boxes, I feel prepared—until insecurity sets in. I walk around the store, picking up a protein drink and snacks before checking out. The clerk couldn’t care less about my assortment; fortunately, the bags aren’t see-through.
