Page 34 of My So-Called Perfect Life
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she answers.
“Nothing like the stench of puke to kill your buzz,” the other one adds.
When they get the alert that the Uber is here, I head out front and direct the driver around to the back alley. The last thing I need is someone to record this woman being carried out of my bar after screaming about me infecting her.
I pick Danielle up off the couch and guide the group out through the back door. Danielle is still grasping the trash can for dear life, so I do the driver a solid and let her keep it. After placing her in the back of the car, I close the door.
Looking over to her friends on the other side, I say, “Listen, for what it’s worth, I didn’t put her in this situation. I’ve never once had any STDs. Her ex seems to be a real asshole though.”
Neither of them says a word before getting into their ride and driving off.
* * *
Before heading back,I swing by the loft and grab a new pair of pants. Thank God for this loft. Heading across town to my place with puke on my pants would not be a pleasant experience.
After I change and head back behind the bar, I’m greeted by a grinning Roxy.
“I did not give that woman chlamydia.”
She shakes her head and laughs before heading down the bar to serve drinks.
My heads swims with the events of the last twenty minutes. Danielle has me questioning whether or not it’s possible I infected her.
There’s no way.
I haven’t had a single symptom.
Shit, I don’t even really know anything about the disease.
I turn to head back to my office, and then I remember it’s currently a hazmat zone, covered in vomit. Fan-fucking-tastic. I grab the mop bucket, bleach and paper towels out of the supply closet.
Half an hour later, my office is clean enough to be used for surgery and reeks of bleach. My shoulders slump as I plop my tired ass into my seat. Leaning my head against the head rest, I close my eyes and try to wrap my frazzled brain around tonight.
None of this makes sense. Her ex was cheating on her. How could she believe this came from me? I should’ve known something was up with the woman when she caught my interest that night. Typically, I’m not that guy. I see a lot of women. A lot of beautiful, stop-you-in-your-tracks women. I’ve taken more than my share home with me, but no one has made me curious about them before. None had me wondering about their feelings like she did that night. My hands are full running the bar. With the number of bars that go belly-up every year, I need to keep my attention where it belongs—on my business. I don’t have the time or energy for anything more than a good time.
But Danielle. Fuck, she intrigued me. When I came upstairs and found her gone, I should’ve been relieved to not have to ask her to leave. Instead, I felt … I’m not sure what it was. I was disappointed, sure, but things also felt unfinished. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.
Ironically, she just told my whole fucking bar that I gave her the clap. No, wait … that’s gonorrhea. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.
My dick feels fine though.
How could I have chlamydia and not know it?
I search on my phone and discover that it’s not always accompanied by any symptoms.
Great.
Maybe I do have it.
My fingers fly over the screen and find Evan’s name.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Have you ever had chlamydia?” I get right to the point.
His laugh lasts a solid minute. God, sometimes, he can be such a child.
“No, but I’m guessing you do.”
