Twist (Dive Bar 2)

HIM: Holy shit. You've done that?

ME: No, but I've always wanted to. Lack of private available washing machine. You know, I've heard of phone sex, but not email sex.

HIM: Getting a little heated?

ME: Yes. You?

HIM: Definitely. Can't talk now, ordering a washing machine.

Joe had obviously fibbed about only doing a few days of work with his dad and a couple of shifts at the Dive Bar each week. It soon became apparent that the guy bordered on being a workaholic. If I hadn't been in town, he probably would have been renovating the soon-to-be studio apartments whenever he wasn't serving drinks downstairs. With something to prove to his father now too, I doubt I could have kept him away from the place if I tried--and I didn't.

No one else seemed surprised to find us there at it again come Monday.

Joe and Andre got busy spreading sealant around, getting the kitchen and bathroom spaces ready for tiling and cabinetry installation. Andre, as the owner of the building, was every bit as committed to the renovations as Joe was. Meanwhile, I ripped out what remained of the old fittings in the last room down the hall.

Funnily enough, destroying things continued to make me happy. A certain kind of satisfaction could be found in emptying a room of all its detritus. Clearing out the old and ushering in the new. It might have been symbolic of my life, or it might have just been my underlying violent tendencies. I don't know.

Despite our sleazy sex plans, we were talked into attending a nighttime gathering at Lydia and Vaughan's. Pizza and beer were on the schedule. The happy couple lived in a bungalow not far from Joe's folks' place.

On our way over, I thought about how despite my dislike of the outdoors I couldn't get enough of all the trees in Coeur d'Alene. The greenery both blew my mind and soothed it. Seattle was great, but this was different, less crowded and more peaceful. With Joe beside me, a lot of my fears faded. But more than that, some stronger part of me woke up. Coming to this place, meeting Joe, it had all helped to wake me up.

I loved the feeling I got, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of Joe's passenger-side window, gazing up at the greenery and the mountains in the distance. Taking in the colors of the sky as the sun sank low. I'd been focused on being hidden, staying inside for so long. It was like I was looking out at the world for the first time in years, and the view was dazzling.

Maybe my days of being a recluse were done.

Lydia, the blond bombshell, opened the door and welcomed us with, "Boys are out back at the fire pit, girls inside."

"It's tradition," explained Joe, giving the nape of my neck a gentle squeeze before ambling off to be with his bros.

"Oh." Nervousness stirred inside me--I hadn't spent any real time alone with his friends before. Never mind, I'd be fine. Of course I would be. "Okay."

"Down with penises." A smiling Nell heckled Joe from a big old leather couch. "Boo."

"You're the worst," said Rosie. "Get outside."

Oddly enough, Joe seemed unperturbed. "Ladies."

"Let's get you a drink," said Lydia with a light touch on my elbow.

I followed her through the open-style lounge and dining room, into the kitchen area, just as Joe slipped out the door. A glass door led out onto a back patio, flickering flames and the soft sounds of a couple acoustic guitars floating in from beyond. Vaughan, Andre, and Pat were already gathered outside around the fire pit.

"Wine, beer, juice, or water?" asked Lydia.

"Beer, thank you."

"Done." She passed me a bottle from the fridge, while popping off its top.

"Thank you."

We each took one of the remaining single chairs in the lounge. After working on the renovation all day, it felt wonderful to get off my feet. "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison was playing softly on the record player. Yes, real live vinyl. These people were far cooler than me. My fingers worried the outside seam on my black jeans. All of a sudden my mind was blank. I had no idea what to say so I sipped my cold beer instead.

Nell pouted. "I want a beer."

"There, there." Rosie patted Nell's small round stomach with a smile. "You're having a baby. No fun for you."

"Meh. I don't need that stuff. I'm high on life and pregnancy hormones. A toast," said Nell, holding her bottle of water up high. "To new friends."

"Good one." Lydia drank deep from her beer.

"Welcome, Alex," said Rosie.

"Thanks." I followed her good example. Nothing like cold craft beer to soothe a throat weary from shouting. "Is the bar closed tonight?"

"No," said Nell. "Eric, Boyd, Curt, and Taka are on duty tonight."

"We need nights off now and then," said Lydia, curling her feet up underneath her.

"Sanity breaks." Rosie smiled. She was a beautiful dark-skinned woman with a head full of curls that I would have died for. Mine fell straight and boring. With Nell's coppery-colored hair, freckles, and colorful old-style tattoos, the two women were a gorgeous sight to behold. Lazy me, I'd just chucked on jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I should have made more of an effort. These were Joe's friends, I wanted them to think well of me.

"Speaking of breasts," said Nell.

"We were speaking of breasts?" asked Lydia.

"We are now. Mine are driving me nuts," moaned Nell, eyeing her impressive set. The white chef's coat was of course gone tonight, leaving a body-hugging green woolen dress. "Ever since the tit fairy visited I feel like I'm going to lose my balance and fall on my face. Accidentally gouge someone's eye out with an escaped nipple or something. I don't even have anyone to appreciate them."

With a smile, Rosie wrapped her arm around the woman's shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. "I think your tits are great."

"Aw, thanks," said Nell with a certain sadness in her eyes. "At any rate, I can't wait to return to normal after I finish feeding the baby."

"You might never go back to normal," said Rosie, stopping to wet her throat with a sip of white wine. "I used to be a B at best, but I've never gotten back below a C. One of my friends is still a doubleD eight years later."

"What?" With a soft wail, Nell inspected her breasts and baby bulge. "There's nothing natural about pregnancy. I don't care what they say."

"True."

"Joe keeps sneaking looks at you over his shoulder," Lydia said to me, and gave me a wink.

"It's cute, isn't it?" said Nell. "They get so protective when they meet one they like. I miss that."

With a frown, Rosie rubbed the pregnant woman's arm. "You'll find someone else, Nell."

"I don't know." She sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure I even want to. I had my one big once-in-a-lifetime sort of love with Pat. But I took it for granted. Well, we both did. Maybe we were too young or something. I don't know. We haven't properly talked since I told him about the baby. I get nods and that's it. Dude'll barely look at me."

"Maybe he's giving you and Eric space to try and be a family." Again, Rosie slipped an arm around the woman, getting close. "Eric has pulled his act together a lot in the last few months."

Making a noise close to strangulation, Nell let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. "Give it up. We drunkenly bumped hips once by accident. I love him dearly, but only as a friend."

"I hate thinking of you doing everything on your own," said Lydia.

"You planning on abandoning me?" The redhead raised an eyebrow.

"No, of course not!"

Nell shrugged. "I have you, Vaughan, Rosie, Boyd, Joe, Eric, and his parents all dying to help. Relax. We're covered."

"Fine."

With a broad smile, Nell rested her head against Rosie's shoulder. "We're lucky, really. Me and Lydia Junior."

Eyes wide, Lydia laughed. "You would not name the baby after me."

"I might." Another shrug. "Sure, it'll be rough if he's a boy, but he'll get used to it. It'll be character building."

"Very funny." Lydia gave her a sour smile.

"She won't even give us a hint about what she's

thinking about for a name," said Rosie, tipping back her glass of wine and taking another mouthful.

"Hell no," said Nell. "You can all know after the fact. Then everyone just has to suck it up and accept it. Tell people beforehand and everyone puts their two cents in. I'm not having people go, 'Oh, I guess that's a nice enough name ... for a serial killer.'"

"We would never say that." Brows high, Lydia seemed almost insulted.

"Vaughan would."

"Yes, well, your brother's an idiot."

"You're in love with him," Nell pointed out.

"I'm an idiot too. Have you not noticed?"

Rosie and I chuckled as I eased back into my chair. Praise the Lord, I was actually relaxing around strangers. Valerie would be so proud if she could see me socializing like a normal person. Take that, anxiety. The world could be so noisy and full of static. It was easy to get lost and confused. But maybe dealing with it was just a matter of practice.

"So, Alex. Tell us all about yourself," ordered Nell.

"Yeah," Lydia piped in. "What are your friends at home like? What do you do for a living?"

"And what's the deal with you and Joe?" Rosie waggled her eyebrows.

Crap. Three sets of eyes focused on me, waiting. Doubt didn't creep back in, it fucking moon-walked onto the stage. My mind was an empty corridor, lined with locked doors. Behind those doors were all the different things I could say. Torture, thy name is polite conversation with strangers.