child, and I won't let you ruin my life. You think you're some hotshot, but every man bleeds the same way."
“So, you’re threatening me now?” I asked, my voice low and angry.
"Just telling you how it is. You're going to go back and recant the story you told about me. You're going to recant, and you're going to help me get back up in the air, or you're going to be fucking sorry."
"No, Fred, I'm not,” I said, the anger fading from me. He was too pathetic for me to be pissed off at him. “Get yourself some help. Now, if you'll excuse me."
I shoved past him, which was depressingly easy to do. The man was too drunk to try and fight me. Shit, he was drunk enough that I was surprised he could stay on his feet at all. I could hear him muttering behind me as I walked away with clenched fists.
He was a lucky man, whether he knew it or not. If I had as little control over myself as he did, I would have beaten him to a bloody pulp. I was glad I hadn't done it, but I was also ready to go home. Any desire I'd had for a drink in the Lounge was long gone.
The urge to call Jess, though? That was stronger than ever.
Chapter 11: Jess
Everything about my latest date with Drew was more than I could have hoped for. Even the getting ready part had been a blast. How often did a girl get to say a thing like that? Maybe that was just par for the course with most women, but for me, most of the dating I had done after the death of Emma's father had been lukewarm at best.
There hadn't been a lot of it, and there hadn't been any real spark with the men I did go out with. Certainly, nothing that would have driven me to gather my sister and my daughter to help me pick out what to wear. Even an hour after Drew had picked me up, I could still picture Emma standing on my king-sized bed with berry-colored lipstick smeared all over her face as she belted out Beyonce at the top of her lungs.
Normally, it was the kind of thing I would have put a stop to, both the makeup and the standing on the bed, but on this night, I had been delighted. It was the kind of over the top memory a mother cherished. As I took the seat Drew was pulling out for me, I couldn't help but smile.
“What’s that about?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
"That smile,” he said. “You've always got a pretty one, but this one is particularly radiant."
"Is it?" I laughed, feeling giddy and buzzed despite having had no alcohol to drink. "Thanks. I was just thinking about my daughter. She's in the middle of a Beyonce phase, and she was in rare form before you came to get me."
“I thought I heard a little Beyonce blaring when you opened the front door. Maybe I should have tried to secure tickets to one of her concerts instead of bringing you here?”
“No way! Are you kidding me? This is amazing!”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said. “But how do you know? It hasn’t begun yet.”
I shrugged. “I just do. I’ve never seen anything like this place before. Even if it’s bad, I’m going to have fun.”
As I assured Drew that there was no other date I would rather be on, I looked around the room. I wasn't lying. I had never been on any date that came anywhere close to the one Drew was taking me on. I had never done anything close. In my mind, things like dinner theater performances were reserved for rich people, or at least, people a whole lot fancier than me.
The theater we were in was on the small side, but that didn't take away from how impressive it was. Everywhere I looked, it was decorated with rich golds and reds. It was the kind of opulence I would have expected at the world's finest opera houses.
Twenty or so tables sat in front of the smallish stage, making this a kind of exclusive ticket event. I had never imagined myself being a part of something like this. It was beautiful, and I found myself compulsively smoothing down my little black dress. I knew I could never compare to the types of women who usually went to things like this, but I was seriously hoping that I didn't look out of place enough for people to take notice.
“Stop it, Jess.”
“Stop what?” I asked, wondering what I was doing wrong.
“Second guessing yourself,” Drew said.
I had been doing just that. “How could you know?”
He smiled. "I'm a pretty perceptive man, Jess. I can tell you're being too hard on yourself. And there's no need. You look better than any other woman in this room. You look better than all of them combined. Believe me. I can be pretty critical when it comes to my opinions on that kind of thing."
“Well, in that case, I’ll take your word for it.” I tried to play off the compliment with a joke, but I felt the heat reddening my cheeks. I just hoped Drew didn’t notice my blushing in the dim light of the theater.
If he did, Drew had the decency not to mention it. He poured us both a glass of champagne. We clinked our glasses together and took a sip. It was bubbly and delicious. Something this good could be dangerous. I’d be drunk before I knew it if I wasn’t careful.
Drew looked me up and down, just like he had the first time we met. I couldn't be sure what he was thinking, but the smoldering look in his eyes gave me an idea. The mere thought of it made my body hot all over. As perceptive as he claimed to be, I hoped he couldn’t tell what I was thinking right now. I shifted in my seat, both uncomfortable and turned on at the same time.