Some Nights – Copyright © 2018 J. L. Lora. All Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
Saona
“A fucking second honeymoon. That was Mom’s bright idea after I told her David’s been cheating on me with
a skank near Hunts Point.” I gasp for air I don’t find. The walls are not closing in on me. The walls are not closing in on me. The walls are not…
“Saona, you have to breathe.” My sister’s no longer pleading, she’s demanding, but I’m too far gone. I either rant or die.
“She’s a fucking skank-bag stripper, Sierra. And I found them. I went there, to that murder-death-kill motel, and she opened the door with her tits half out. He was sitting on the bed with his pants undone and cheap lipstick was smeared on his dumb mouth. The asshole had the nerve to say, ‘It’s not what you’re thinking, Saona.’ Not what I’m thinking my ass. Then, I had the bright idea to call our mother and she says all marriages go through tough times and maybe a second honeymoon would help. On a fucking boat. Why did I flipping call her?”
I’m gasping again and tapping on the nightstand next to my hotel bed, trying to hone in on what the emergency room doctor told me a month ago about spacing my breaths and tethering to objects and smells. All I do is wheeze.
“Drop the phone on the nightstand, put it on speaker and lay your hands flat on your thighs. Breathe with me. Come on. One. Two. Three.”
We go through the exercise several times until the air begins to flow freely into my lungs. Thank God she remembers the instructions.
“You’re okay,” Sierra coos in the voice she uses on my niece and nephew. The voice I hadn’t known she had in her until she became a mom. It’s soft and gooey and reassuring and the opposite of everything we grew up with.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“For what? For being human? It’s about fucking time. I never heard you cuss this much your entire life. You hold shit inside all the time but swearing is good for the soul.”
I cough out a laugh and my chest loosens a little more. “Only you would think that. This is so ghetto. You know how much I hate being a mess.”
“You’re handling shit. It’s good you’re not here right now. You need space.”
“But I’m back tomorrow.” The trip to Baltimore was a godsend. And to think of how much I bitched about having to be away from my home? What a joke.
“Yeah, but a lot can change in one night.”
“Who even are you? Since when do you see silver linings?” I sit back against the pillows on the bed, stretching my legs out and my arms up. The breaths are flowing freer now.
“Not going to lie, my inner self wants to grab a knife and stab David, but I want to be there for you, like you were there for me when Edwin was fucking that bitch near Van Cortland. I hate that you know what being cheated on feels like.”
Flashes of anger threaten my newly-found breath. My brother-in-law cheated on my sister while she was pregnant with their first child. But he had supposedly gotten himself together.
“Are you going to tell me to stay with David?”
“No, but I won’t tell you to leave him. This decision is only yours. Mom can’t be involved because she’ll push you to be the good Catholic wife and stay.”
Like she did with you. “How did you do it? How did you stay with him?”
I’ve asked my sister a million times and never gotten an answer.
“When you’re on the other side of this, whatever you decide to do, you and I will have a long conversation over some Brugal and coke— Oh, hell to the no.” Sierra’s tone shifts to murderous and she’s no longer talking to me. “What the fuck is this bitch-ass doing here? After what you did to my sister, you can’t come fucking chill at my house.”
Heat shoots up my neck and spreads over my face. David is at my sister’s place.
“Come on, Sisi. He feels really bad and he needs his family,” my supposedly reformed-cheater brother in-law pleads.
“He can go find that two-dollar ho he dropped his pants for. She can be his new family.”
“There’s no need for that.” David’s voice is low, but I hear him clearly.
“Shiiiiit.” What follows is my sister’s entire cussing repertoire. An extensive portfolio with curated entries, from the classics like “asshole” and “motherfucker” to innovative, new-age dirt like “fuck bucket” and “stunted dick.”
“I’m hanging up, Sisi. Love you.”
“Me too. Call me if you need anything.”
I’m going to take a hot shower, have a drink and try to get some sleep. But I take one step and my chest begins to contract. Oh no. I take another step. I need to keep in motion. But, oh shit. My chest is shrinking, and the familiar pressure builds until I’m no longer comfortable and the walls start moving in on me. All I can think is, “Breathe.” But I can’t. I can’t even count to three.
I tug at my shirt, searching for air I don’t seem to get. I’m panicking and alone. I stumble to the door. I grab my purse off the table nearby and in less than a minute I’m in the stairwell heading down.
The too-white walls make everything lighter and I concentrate on counting my way down six floors. By the time I reach the lobby, my breathing is semi-normal again. There are a few people in the adjoining bar but there’s enough room for me not to feel crowded. I can sit and have a drink, calm my nerves and then head back up to bed.
CHAPTER TWO
Saona
I don’t ever sit at the bar. It attracts attention and conversation. I’m in the mood for neither, but as the waitress heads my way, my husband’s words echo in my ears.
A man needs his wife to be a lady. He gets his dick sucked somewhere else.
He wouldn’t approve of me sitting at a bar, which is why I do it. I take the first step and the next, passing the waitress and heading for the empty side of the bar. I choose the corner-end stool, so I can look outside to the street. I lift myself onto the high seat and stare down the other end of the swanky bar with the low mood lighting and the accent brick wall. The bartender, built like a running back, places drinks in front of three women. They’re all smiles and the middle one, with skunky, bleached, almost-white hair with black-as-sin streaks, pushes her breast on top of the bar.
His mouth tilts all the way in an overt smile. Yeah, men are all fucking horny, sniffing dogs after the first pair of cheap tits.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he turns to my side of the bar, ensnaring me in a gaze that threatens to cut right through me. “I’ll be right with you.”
I nod and take him all in. His white T-shirt and black jeans that wrap around his body are not out of the ordinary. They’re pretty much a bartender staple. His begging-for-attention arm muscles are not. Those guns are probably the biggest reason he works at the swanky bar. I can’t take my eyes off them or that chiseled jaw, or those fuck-me-hard eyes.
The trio on the other end of the bar are practically drooling. He turns around to add something to the register and they openly ogle his ass. And to be truthful, because I’m not blind or a hypocrite, it’s an ogle-worthy ass. It’s nice and round, with strong column thighs.
Thighs like that are one of the reasons I watch baseball. What’s not to love about guys with muscular thighs and broad shoulders? He turns my way and begins to stalk toward me. His gait is sleek and measured, like a jungle cat in his habitat. His body moves in a symmetry that causes heat to pool between my legs.
“Hello.” He smiles. It’s the same one he used for the three vultures who are openly staring our way. “What can I get you to drink?”
Yeah, this one’s a dirty dog too.
“What would you recommend?”
“What’s your usual damage?” His smile widens and it irks me. His little game won’t work with me.
“If I wanted the usual, I would have asked for it.”
Oh shit. Oh God. Did I sound like as much of a bitch as I think I did? His eyes take a sharp, cold glint. The smile he pushes on his lips is tight and his lips part. His hand braces on the bar. He’s going to blast me and I deserve it. I shouldn’t be taking my day out on this man.
My hand shoots out to cover one of his. “I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for that. I’m not usually rude. I’m a little on edge tonight.”
Take your hand off him.
His gaze snaps to my hand covering his and he flips his palm. I snatch my hand back and my fingers slide over his, tripping over the rough bumps.
“I shouldn’t be touching you. Oh my God. Sorry for that too. I’m just messing up on all counts.”
His eyes take a warmer tone, like I’m a cat video he can’t stop watching. ” Are you having a bad day?”
“My life is just…it doesn’t matter. Just please know I’m not a raging bitch. Can we start over?”
His smile widens and oh God, it screws my insides. “We can start over.”
“Please recommend something. What do you think I should be drinking?”
His eyes travel down my face and back up to my eyes. My skin tingles under his scrutiny and I struggle not to grab the menu and cover myself. It’s not right. I’m a married…
“How about a glass of rosé? We have a great one that was featured in Baltimore Magazine last month.”
“Champagne? Because I look high maintenance?” Somewhere, David is co-signing. His boring wife with her boring drink.
But insanely hot bartender shakes his head and leans closer. “Don’t sleep on champagne. It has a sharp bite. It looks sweet and innocent but will take you for a ride.” He pauses and leans in. “It’s also hard to recover from.”
A wave of heat sweeps through my body and I’m flushing everywhere, picturing that smiling mouth disappearing between my legs.
Just stop.
“I’ll…I’ll have the rosé.” Great, now I stutter.
“I’ll bring you a glass. I’m Jax, by the way, so just yell for me across the room.”
Jax? Like from Sons of Anarchy? It fits. I’d bet he’d look so good in a motorcycle jacket or parading around naked.
He turns back around and heads my way. He’s smiling and mouth-watering and oh dear God. I pinch myself just in time for him to put the flute in front of me. His fingers don’t move from the delicate stem of the glass. They’re three times as wide. He slides them down to the base and pushes the cup my way.
A shiver runs down my arm and I can’t look at him. He’d see everything I’m thinking. “Thank you. You can add it to my tab. Room six-twenty.”
“Okay. Let me know if you like it.”
I nod but my gaze is still on his hands. He doesn’t move away. He lingers, and I know he’s looking at me but I can’t figure out why. I glance up, and yes, I was right. He’s there like he’s waiting for me and I probably should get the hell out of here now. I haven’t looked at a man like this in the past six years.
“You want anything else?” His voice is soft and I could swear it’s suggestive. My first inclination is to ask, like your dick? Thank God my good sense kicks in and I don’t say it. But, I’m horrified. That’s so not me. I’m also wet, like I haven’t been in forever. What the hell is wrong with me?
I need to get a grip. Anyway, I’m so not his type and he’s just being a good bartender. Being nice to the bitchy lady, so she can give him a fat tip.
“I’m fine for now, thank you.” Yes, keep it quick, PG, PC, out of the gutter.
“Okay,” he says but is still staring. “Yell out if you need me.”
He walks away and I’m left to stare at the rosé, not his perfect backside.
My phone vibrates with a message from Sierra. You up? Just sent David’s ass home.
Sisi, U didn’t have to. I don’t want you to have problems with Edwin because of me.
She replies in less than a minute. Fuck that, it’s my house. Edwin can go too, if he doesn’t like it.
My sister never shed her bad-bitch attitude. She has always done what she wanted, not caring what our mom or the family said. She never took shit from men and everything in relationships was on her terms. Until she got pregnant and had to get married. That’s when everything and everyone found their way inside her head. They convinced her she had to be a mother first and a wife second, even if your husband was a cheating asshole who was banging some chick in the park while you were on pregnancy bedrest.
It forced her into early labor. I held her hand through twenty hours of pain and heartbreak tears, suppressing the urge to kill my brother-in-law who had “the right” to be there.
David had sworn that day it would never be us. He’d never cheat and just tell me if he wanted to go his own way. He’d had tears in his eyes as he promised. I guess it was hard to keep hoochies on the side while having to pay rent and support a household. He needed the boring wife with the three-figure salary who took care of the bills, so he could spend his money on strippers and skanks and screw them in sleazy motels.
“You don’t like it?”
I look up to find Jax there. I power through the wave of steam that engulfs my face. “I do.”
He shakes his head slowly. “You’re not a good liar. You haven’t even tasted it.”
I laugh a little. “It’s just…champagne is my usual. I’m not feeling the usual tonight.”
He leans on the counter. “I get that. Sometimes—”
“Hey, Jax, can we get another?” Skunky yells from the other side of the bar.
He shoots me an apologetic smile. “I’ll refill her and bring you something else.”
My screen is flashing. Ten more digits added over David’s name. Please call me back. He’s texted me fifty-eight times in a row now. The preview of the last one cuts off at I love…and my mind fills in the blank with the word skanks.
I ignore it like I did the thirty missed calls and check out Sisi’s newest one.
Sorry, one of the kids woke up. Do you want me to call you?
I shake my head like she can see me. No, I’m at the hotel bar. Came to have a drink.
Ohhhhh, you should pick up the bartender. A wonky-eyed-with-tongue-out face emoji follows her reply. But my body doesn’t get it’s a joke. It conjures visions of Jax’s big hands cupping my ass and pulling me up to meet his hips. A pang of craving assaults my belly.
My gaze flashes across the bar to where Jax is refilling Skunky’s drink. If she pushes her boobs closer to him, she will tip over the bar counter and fall at his feet. He’s keeping a safe distance. Now that he’s been here and given me a real smile, I think he’s faking the one he’s shooting her way. Pleasure courses through me. I’m so petty. Back to my phone.
I want you to be okay, Manita. The Spanish word for little sister brings tears to my eyes.
I sniff them away and make light of it. I’ll be okay. Maybe I will pick up the bartender after all.
Her reply is swift. Whatever you do, name it after me.
I chuckle.
“Seems like the night is looking up.” Jax is right in front of me again.
“My sister’s kinda crazy.”
He places another drink in front of me and begins to wipe the already-clean counter. “I’m sorry we got interrupted. I was thinking about you not feeling your usual, so I brought you something completely different.”
There has to be some type of brown liquor in the dark concoction. And there’s a lime. Dear God, please don’t let it be any rum-and-coke kind of combination. I never make good decisions after rum. “What is it?”
“A Dark and Stormy.”
“Oh, like my mood,” I say. “What’s in it?”
His smile threatens to melt the crotch off my panties. “Rum, ginger beer, and lime.”
I concentrate on his words, not those damned fleshy lips, and shake my head almost violently. “Oh no. That’s not a good idea.”
He shrugs. “Maybe that’s what you need to shake you off. It’s like the song says, sometimes you need to play on the ledge, so you can live again.”
“What song is that? But more important, what if I fall?”
“The song is called Some Nights and you won’t fall because you’ll find something to hold on to. Come on, step out and breathe the wild air.”
Huh?
“Those are the lyrics. I’ll play the song for you.” He walks to the other side of the bar and I’m left to stare after him. He’s fumbling with his phone and plugs it into the audio system. I pick up the drink and take a sip. It has a nice, tingly kick.
Sisi is going on and on about this fantasy of me picking up the bartender. She’s making jokes about David’s head exploding.
No, if I pick up the bartender, it will be for me. I’m no longer doing anything for David.
Her reply is another emoji, a fist in the air one.
Across the way, Jax points up to the speakers. His shirt sleeve rolls back, giving me a peek of black claws tattooed on his skin.
Some nights when nothing’s left to say
The devil extends his hand
You leave Jesus home to guard your soul
While you go out to play.
He turns his attention to two men who sit close to Skunky and her friends.
Jax would be a type of ledge but man, I’d hold on to that body tight and with my legs around his waist. I need to start planning my next steps, not fantasizing about letting the bartender pound the bitterness out of me.
I open my notepad app and type a to-do list. The first thing is to stop procrastinating and send the email in my draft folder to McGill and Reyes asking Carina to formally represent me. I may need to find a place to stay tomorrow, in case David doesn’t want to get out.
Speaking of… I switch to the messenger app. I take a breath and click on his name. Ignore the I’m sorry, please hear me out, it’s not what you’re thinking, it didn’t mean anything, and let’s talk this out messages and type one of my own.
Pack up all your shit and leave. I’m filing for divorce. My finger hovers over the send button. What if I’m making a mistake? Am I really as inflexible as he’s accused me of being?
Some nights you just had enough. The line blares through the speakers and if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
I hit send. There’s no way I can share a bed and a life with him, not after this. I’ve been making excuses for years because he loved me, was a good, faithful man, in sickness and in health, and blah blah blah. Marriages go through tough times and you fight because giving up is not an option. But he lied, used me and wasn’t faithful.
And I was the only fool who’d taken those vows as real.
Twenty seconds later, the text message barrage from David starts again. My screen vibrates one time after the next.
I love you.
Don’t do this to us.
You know it didn’t mean anything.
I can’t lose you.
Fucking call me now, Saona.
I send a message to my sister, telling her what I did and letting her know I’m putting my phone on airplane mode. I don’t want his calls or messages. I don’t want anything from him.
“You’re not smiling anymore.” My favorite bartender, with his sexy and perfect smile is back.
“Doing what needs to be done is not always pleasant.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
I shake my head. “Thanks for the song. It helped me step out on one ledge.”
“Haven’t you heard? Bartenders are kinda like priests. We’re just here doing God’s work.”
I bet your hands can work miracles.
“How long have you been doing God’s work, Jax?” Good girl. But next time, try not to sound like a sex kitten when you say his name.
His tongue darts out and sweeps across his bottom lip, making my pussy clench. “Since college. This is a side job.”
“Oh. What do you do full time?”
“I’m a federal employee.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
His eyes narrow. “What did you think I do?”
Stripper, nude male model, porn star?
I settle for a pathetic, “I don’t know.”
The blush must color my whole face because he chuckles and hooks a finger in his pocket. “You’re funny. What’s your name?”
“Saona.”
“Sah-OH-nah,” he repeats, and I soak my panties when he makes the syllables out like a moan. “What does it mean?”
“It’s the island where my parents met.”
“Cool. Where is it?
“Off the coast of the Dominican Republic. That’s where we’re from.”
“Oh. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“You should, it’s beautiful.”
He moves away to check on someone else and something occurs to me. I open my Facebook app and go through the albums of the last time I was in the Dominican Republic. David had gone to his family’s town with his brother and I stayed in the capital. There had been those sketchy photos with his “cousin.” I search back and find the album. He’d been tagged in the photo but I hadn’t thought to look. I go to the woman’s profile and search around until I find the photo of David with his arm around her.
I open a browser window and try to log into his Hotmail account. It takes me three tries, but I get in with his father’s last name and date of birth. I search the folders until I find emails and photos from women back to when we first met.
God, I have been so stupid.
Rage takes over and I switch to my email account, pull the drafted message, and hit send without hesitation. I stare at the subject long after I send it. I want to file for divorce. Then, I forward all the messages to my account and email my coworker, asking if the apartment he was renting on Riverdale is still available.
“It’s last call,” Jax announces, coming close again. “I’m trying not to take it personal, but you didn’t drink anything I mixed for you.”
I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s not you. It’s me—”
“Oh no. You’re giving me a break up line. Did I treat you that badly?”
I laugh. “On the contrary, you made me smile tonight. I needed that.”
“Then I’m doing better than I thought.” His eyes twinkle and there goes that perfect smile again, stoking up every corner of my body.
I want him. The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. I want him to make me feel better. I need his body over mine and his mouth all over me. But big guys like him are never interested in women like me. They want skinny blondes with long legs. I’m all ass and hips and small tits.
“Do you need anything else tonight, Saona?”
He says my name so perfect I could picture it ripping out of his throat as he pounds into me. It does me in. My day can’t get any shittier. I won’t die from rejection, but I’ve been left to wonder so many things. I wonder if David really ever loved me or if he’s just kept me around to pay his bills and bankroll his life. I wonder how I could have been so blind for so many years.
I won’t be left to wonder if I could have this man I want so bad right now.
“You. I want you. Come up to room six-twenty.”
Holy shit, that came out of my mouth.
He’s staring, wide-eyed and mouth-opened, like I sucker punched him.
Oh God.
Someone calls his name and he turns around. I panic, look around and I see the elevator like a beacon calling out to me. I make a run for it.
My heart is pounding in my ears and I rush inside the elevator. I don’t breathe again until I lean against the door inside my room.
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