Page 61 of Painting Her Fate

Emma shook her head of her thoughts then sipped her drink, “they formed the band in nineth grade.” She let out a snicker, “oh God did they suck.” She downs the rest of her drink then let out a satisfied sigh, “but they found the right people to play now, well, other than Wyatt of course- and Zander.” Soft strumming begins as they go over the playlist to better accommodate the fill-in guitarist.

“Zander was in the band?”Color me intrigued.

She nods and steals a sip of my drink, wincing at the taste, “Zander helped write a few of their big hit songs and of course all the older ones.”

“That is amazing.”

Emma leans in to whisper and I feel that her tiny frame cannot consume more than one drink before she’s feeling the side effects, “do you know the song,Sweet Little Iris?

“By Sly Van?” I comment and watch her nod, “Of course.” That is why the lead singer looked familiar to me, I went to a concert a few years back- damn good band. “So, this is Sly Van? Except their undercover tonight under their original name, I take it?”

“Exactly. Their manager is probably having a pitch fit right now not knowing where they are.” Emma sighs, “anyway- Zander and Derek wrote that song together- Zander wrote many of their biggest hits, and all of the first album.” She tilted her empty glass and pouted, remembering it was empty,

“you want to know the kicker?” I nod, intrigued to find this bit of secret information- que thePink Panthertheme song because this investigator is ready. Emma continues, “Zander doesn’t keep the royalties, instead he donates it to the local Cancer Treatment Center.”

I’m speechless. Alexander continues to surprise me with every turn. He is selflessly donating hard-earned money to a place that must mean a great deal to him. It’s touching to see this hardened man in such a warm light. First the poem, now this? What other surprises might this man have up his sleeves?

Gavin came into view, fitted in a beard net of all things and a less than impressed grumpy face as he stopped at our table with Emma’s appetizers, plus two extra items no one ordered. After setting everything on the table he pointed to the drummer, “Tyler said these are for you, something about him owing you from last time.”

Emma’s eyes light as she shouts her excitement, “No way! I can’t believe he remembered!” She cupped her hands to yell to the stage, “Thanks Tyler!” she waves her hands wildly then disperses the shots, one for each of us. “Thanks Gavin.” He grumbles then hustles back to the kitchen.

I pick up the tiny glass, having a pretty good idea as to what it is. One too many of these and I’ll be dancing on the bar top.

Yes, it’s happened, no, I’d rather never speak of it again. That hangover was rubbish and I felt manky for a week. Never again.

Holding them close to clinking, Emma begins, “Let’s toast to a fun filled night, a very dirty thirty, and winning the next bet. Cheers!” We clink then throw the liquid back. As suspected, it’s top shelf tequila; the burn coating my throat and going all the way down. Emma coughed once then raised her hands in the air, hooting her accomplishment. She waved and kissed her hand, throwing it out towards the drummer. “I’m going to go say hi before they start, wanna come meet the band?” She hops off her chair grabbing two mozzarella sticks, shoving most of one in her mouth.

“You go ahead, I’ll watch our table. Tell him I said thanks for the tequila.” She snags one more mozzarella stick before heading to the stage.

“I’ll be right back.” She practically skips her way there. Once she is up there, Wyatt, who is now sporting an all-black Stratocaster guitar slung low acting, like it was very much part of him now, he gestures her to come closer. The second she does he grabs her wrist with the hand holding the food, stealing a big bite. She slaps his arm playfully, offering the rest of the bitten item to him, graciously feeding her husband with a wonderous stare. They are so happy together.

It didn’t take long for someone to sonder over and unequivocally take

Emma’s seat.

“Hi there, I haven’t seen you here before. A first timer?” The young bloke slurred. He has to be freshly twenty-one, short dark brown hair, thick rectangular glasses, and brown eyes that are ogling my chest. Yes, my breasts are nice, but my eyes are not down there.Turn off number one. I’m beginning to rethink this top.

“Yes, it’s quite the place.” I leave my tone neutral and uninterested. He brought the chair closer to mine; I’ve dealt with his type, many times over.

Nothing new, just someone looking to score in the bathroom stall. I keep my tension under wraps, but I can feel my frustrations growing with every second he’s near. My nails dig into my palms.Brace yourself for touching, you know it’s coming.

His hand touches my knee under the table, and Now I do tense, I couldn’t help it.

“I like your accent, it’s cute.” All the while his eyes are still at my chest, a drooling sly grin on his face. I can make out his mates a few tables over egging him on to keep going.

Clearly this guy is near legless. He’s consumed a few too many, and

I have no time for this. I’m sure to tamp down my bite, just a bit, “see, my mate is going to be right back, so if you could scamper off, that be lovely.” I keep my tone even enough for him to get the hint. Some men however need to be smacked silly. I feel his hand start to travel up my thigh and he leans in a little to try and look down my top.

“How about we go outside for some air.” He slides his hand closer to the heart of me and I snag it, finding that pressure point between the thumb and forefinger. I watch him wince in pain and he stops his movements, “oow,oow, that hurts.” He has a means to laugh then.

At this point I am ready to kick thistosserright where it will hurt most, but I refrain. Not wanting to ruin Emma’s birthday, I dig deep and stand my ground. I grab his chin with my free hand so he could realize whom he’s touching. Given his state, he might think I’m about to give him a good snog.

He’d be wrong.

A low growl escapes me as my fiery lass enters the fight, “get your bloody hand off me before I break it. Or would you rather I crush your bollocks? Your choice.” I try adding a malicious smirk, then I push his face away.Gross, his breath smelled just like-. Shit. Not now. Don’t go back to that place Lili, stay in the present. Don’t think of that bastard. Fight the monster. Just fight it. You can do this, fight it.

I think of Alexander then, his strength, his light contact with my body, and that impervious stare that entrances me. I’m able to snap myself back, knowing this is not the place to be sinking into the abyss of my torment.

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