So, I’d walked beside her, cursing myself for my own weakness.
She brushed against me, a bit unsteady on her feet. Those careless touches were like breadcrumbs to a hungry man. Her warmth and softness, something I’d never expected to experience again. She was amazing.
We got to the pedestrian lights and I tried to move to the other side of her. It’s hard to do something like that casually and she moved as I moved, then the lights changed and we had to keep walking.
She chatted away, so bright, not realizing the fight going on inside me.
That simple thing of reaching out for her hand shouldn’t be such a struggle. I wanted to hold her and to trace that body with my fingers. I wanted to be complete.
That was the thing that got me. Not the sex, not the being unable to play guitar, but the simple act of holding her hand. I wanted to do that. Walking down the street, holding her hand, showing the world that this beautiful, amazing woman was mine
If I could fix it then I had to take the chance.
Finally, Gina came into the bar, with a smile on her face. She’d come straight from work and had on a suit. There was something very sexy about that. Her heels clacked against the tiled floor.
“Did I miss Violet?” she said. “I hoped I’d get to say one last goodbye.”
“They left a while back.”
She sat down beside me and ordered a drink.
I wanted to do this, for her, for us, but already the floodgates had opened. Memories flooding back made me feel things I didn’t want to process. I set the thoughts aside, ready for another day when I was strong enough to deal with them.
I wouldn’t say anything to her yet. If she knew I was considering the surgery, she’d be too enthusiastic.
Chapter 18 Gina
I TOOK MY EMPTY TEACUP into the lunchroom. I hated going into that place. Margie and Dianne hung out in there more than they did at their own desks and I swear they made it their personal mission to make my life hell.
“So, Gina, what are you up to today?” Margie said. She’d followed me into the tea room. On purpose, I bet. As I rinsed out my cup in the sink, she stood behind me, uncomfortably close. Usually, that made me blush and stutter. I hated myself for that but, the more I did it, the harder it was to stop.
Today though, I spun around and looked her in the eye.
“My job, Margie, which seems to be a lot more than
you’re doing since you’re in the tea room so often.”
The blood rushed to my head and I waited for the world to stop. My hand trembled as I dried my cup. She’d go nuts and scream at me or retaliate in some way. But no, she gawked at me then turned and went back to her desk. I smiled as I made my tea but then my stomach dropped. She might’ve given up but she’d have some scheme.
I’d done most of my work for the morning and the normal process was to go around the team to find out if anyone else was behind so you could help them out. Margie and Dianne were always behind and I always helped out. That was the actual process. Then they’d pick holes in my work and I’d stay back and redo it.
It was bullshit but I’d never once complained out loud. Well, only to Larry in the mailroom. Most people in the building didn’t talk to Larry because he was a bit slow but he was a really sweet guy when you got to know him. You just had to speak softly and not scare him. He always listened to my complaints and he wasn’t the type to say, “Well, this is what you should do...” or “maybe you should be a bit tougher, Gina.” Larry just nodded and gave me a sympathetic ear.
As I looked up, Margie and Dianne were going out for a cigarette break. Margie would be filling Dianne in on what I’d done. Screw them, their work could go undone. What would they do anyway? They could hardly blame for me not doing it, not without revealing how slack they were.
Instead, I went on the internet to muck around for a while. I checked my email and some other sites.
A page loaded with some mind-blowing news.
Yikes! Was it true?
As the picture of the boy band loaded on my computer, my hands shook.
Something I never told many people, and definitely not anyone at Trouble, I loved The Baxters. Most people would think that’s lame and uncool but I really loved them. I mean, I loved rock as well. I loved seeing bands at the club but those catchy pop tunes made me happy. I listened to them on my phone on the way to work and they made my morning brighter. Sometimes, they were the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning. When I needed to shut out the world, they were the ones I turned to.
I’d cried when they broke up. They’d been my teenage dream. I’d had their posters on my wall. I wore their t-shirt. I’d done all the “which Baxter is your ideal man” quizzes in the magazines.
Now they were reforming and had announced concert dates.