The Ritual

“What’s your name?” he asks, placing his forearms on the table, leaning in.

“Rae,” I give him my middle name. Still wanting to be careful. That’s what everyone calls me here anyway.

“Rae.” He runs his tongue across his white teeth. “Well, what do you suggest, Rae?”

“Depends on what you like.” I shrug. We’re not that experimental with drinks here. The clientele usually prefers the norm. I’m not going to go over the entire list when it’s sitting right in front of him.

“I like you.” He sits back in his seat, his eyes dropping to my shorts like the last guy, and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. This is how I make my tips.

“Stop, man.” His friend slaps him in the arm, laughing. “She’s probably got a boyfriend.”

A husband actually.

If I’m lucky, he’s given me an annulment, but I highly doubt it. Ryat is more the type to have fake papers drawn up about an excruciating death on my behalf. That’s the least that motherfucker could do for me.

“So?” The guy chuckles at his friend. “What do you say, sexy momma? Go out with me after your shift?”

Momma? Does that really work for men? “I don’t get off until three,” I inform him. The fact that he thinks I would cheat on my imaginary boyfriend is insult enough. It’s clear he just wants to fuck. No one goes on a date at three in the morning.

Not going to say I haven’t thought of it. Going from as much sex as Ryat and I were having to fucking nothing sucks ass. This morning, I had to lay flat in the bathtub and spread my legs for the damn faucet to hit it just right while on full blast. I have nothing to get me off, and I can’t seem to get it done with my fingers. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

“That’s fine.” He links his hands together and places them behind his head, smirking up at me. “I’ll wait until you get off. Then we’ll get off.”

“What do you want to drink, sir?” I ask, holding in a sigh.

His friend’s laughter grows. “Dude, just order your fucking drink and leave her alone.”

“Surprise me,” he finally says.

Giving them my back, I make my way over to the bar. “Three Coronas, please.”

She nods and turns to get the beers for me, and he floods my memories like usual.

“Ryat!” I squeal when he bends down and sweeps me off my feet, cradling me in his arms in the middle of the driveway. “What are you …?”

“It’s tradition to carry your wife over the threshold,” he informs me, entering the cabin.

I smile up at him. “Never thought you’d be the kind of guy who cares about tradition.”

Entering the bedroom, he tosses me onto the bed and before I can even get up, he’s straddling my hips with a hand on either side of my head, pinning me down. “I think you’ll find that I’m full of surprises, Mrs. Archer.”

“Here you go.” She places the drinks on my tray, once again bringing me back to the present.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stopping me before I can walk away.

“Yeah,” I lie, and her light brown eyes look at me skeptically. “I’ll be fine.”

“Look.” She leans over, placing her forearms on the bar top. “I don’t know the story, and I don’t need to know, but I promise you’re better off.”

_______________

“I CAN’T LEAVE,” Janett says into her cell phone, standing behind the bar. We’ve been closed for almost an hour now and are almost done cleaning. “No,” she grinds out. “I have a few more things to do …”

“You can go ahead and leave if you need to,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, and I hope she’s not mad at me for eavesdropping on her conversation. We’re the only two left here, and the music is off, so it’s quiet at the moment.

“Yeah, okay,” she says after a long pause. “I’ll be right there.” Pocketing her cell phone, she looks at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “No worries. I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks, Rae. You’re awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She grabs her purse out from underneath the bar, throws her keys on top of it for me, and then storms out the front door.

I grab the keys and make my way to lock the front doors behind her from the inside. Then I walk over to the bags of trash lined up in front of the bar. I’m in no hurry to get back to my hotel room. It’s a shit place, but it’s cheap. Again, under the radar. Takes cash. The lady next to me always has visitors, and I’m pretty sure by the way her bed hits the wall, she gets paid for her time.

Picking up two of the bags, I carry each of them awkwardly out the back door into the alleyway to the dumpster. Setting them down, I push the lid open and then throw them each in one at a time. Slamming it shut, I slap my hands together to get the dirt off them and turn around to see a figure standing in front of me.