Lost Angel (The List #1) (6 page)

Wills was lucky enough to win a significant
amount of money on the lotto when she’d just turned 21. After listening to the
advice of her assigned advisors and legal experts she did the usual formalities
of paying outstanding debts and bills, bought her house and car, helped out her
family and donated lots to various charities close to her huge heart. Predictably
she told the publicity team that she wanted to remain anonymous.
I
don’t
even know exactly how much she won; she doesn’t like to talk about it. As she’s
not a materialistic person, I know it makes her feel uncomfortable but rationally
she also knows that the remaining money, which she stuck into savings, will be
useful in the future.     

I actually met Wills in 2009, a year after the
lotto win, when she came into Next Chapter one afternoon. I was still learning
the ropes and was behind the counter when she casually strolled up to me to ask
what erotic romance novels I’d recommend. She then flashed me the mother of all
smiles. I blushed, she giggled and it was best friends at first sight! There
was just something about her energy that drew me in. She says now that she was
just teasing me because she knew I was the new girl but I always tease back
that she was really hitting on me, which of course she denies profusely. I
didn’t have many friends at Uni and certainly none I’d call close but something
told me that this one was a keeper, someone special.

There’s a queue to get into Barbed but Wills
knows the bouncers so after a bit of flirting on her part, we just fast-tracked
entry. Once we’re inside we head straight towards the bar. There’s a dance
floor to the right of us and the majority of the left side is a seating area.
The actual bar is an island in the centre, serving 360 degrees around the room.
The hum of chatter and vibrations from the music fill the air.

Wills is leading the way holding my hand, manoeuvring
us through the crowd. It’s not too congested and there are plenty of bartenders
on hand so we soon grab two beers. I point out a space to the side of the dance
floor and we make our way over. It’s close enough for us to easily toggle
between the dance floor and the bar as and when we please whilst also giving us
an optimum panoramic of the place. The atmosphere is buzzing; they’re playing
dance music but it’s not so loud that we have to shout to be heard.

We dance to a few songs, using it as a mask to
casually give the crowds a thorough going over. Wills takes longer than me as she
filters through the men
and
women. It’s strange for me to look at men
with a different agenda. Not that I’m looking for prospective men to pull, I
just want to see who tickles my fancy, if anyone.

“This night is long overdue Wills. I always
love going out with you. And thanks again for this and these.” I point to my
hair and strum my nails on the beer bottle, taking a long swig.

“Anytime babe, I just love to see that smile.
Especially when it’s accompanied by that new little
sparkle
in your
eyes.”

“What
sparkle
? I don’t have a sparkle… I
think it’s the alcohol glazing your vision—” Trying but failing to divert her
attention as she interrupts.

“You so
do
have a sparkle! I can’t be
sure when it arrived, unnoticeable to the untrained eye but it’s
definitely
there. Oh and you need to learn to accept compliments too. As soon as you’re
ready to take that ring off your finger, you will be publicly saying ‘I’m free,
I’m single’ in other words giving any chancer an open invitation to try his
luck with you.”

“Shit… My wedding ring, I never take it off.” I
automatically raise my left fist to my mouth and rub my lips over the stones. “How
can I take it off? It’s mine. Do you think Mike’s taken his off?” Vaguely aware
of my pitchy tone and how irrational I suddenly sound, I shut up. Wills looks
at me with an arched eyebrow.

“Erm... I have no idea about Mike. That’s
pretty irrelevant really isn’t it? Who gives a shit whether he has or he hasn’t
took his wedding ring off? Will that define what
you
choose to do?” I
shrug. Wills is blunt but has an uncanny ability to tell it how it is without
actually offending me, maybe because I love and trust her. She hadn’t offended
me last year when she broached the subject of whether I’m happy in my marriage.
I regret not listening to her but that didn’t mean my trust was questionable, I
just thought she’d got it wrong. “Look, you’ll know when you’re ready, live in
the moment remember. There’s no need to overthink this. You’ve told me more
than once that you’ll never go back to him so yes, removing this ring is
emotional but it’s just a formality waiting to happen.” Nothing like cutting to
the chase. Leaning forward she gives me a swift kiss on the cheek to ease the
blows she’s just dealt.

“Ouch… Aaaand on that note, you save our spot
Miss Soft and Sensitive, whilst me and my
formality
wedding ring get us
another beer.” I wink at her and retreat to the bar.

This time it’s a little busier so I have to
wait. I decide to put Wills theory to the test. I remove my ring discreetly and
slip it in my jeans pocket. Then I start studying the men around me; some in
groups, some with dates or girlfriends or wives. I stand up straight, push out
my chest and try to look confident. Pre-separation, whenever I caught the
lingering look of a guy, I’d automatically flash them a friendly smile and look
away politely. I don’t even know if I can be a flirtatious woman. So let’s find
out because it’s my first
ever
opportunity to dip my toe in the pool of
singletons and I’m buzzed enough to try it. Let’s see if it really is that
murky puddle filled with obnoxious players I’d panicked about over the weekend.

I find my first unsuspecting participant;
around my age, cute, clean cut, stylish blue worn jeans with a loose fitting
but smart indigo shirt. He is standing alone at the bar further down from me
waiting to be served. We’re not close enough to engage in conversation so I
know a little facial flirting is doable. Okay here goes, time for my
dishevelled looking inner Miss Seductive, who’s taken to knitting through her
years of boredom, to come out of hiding. She’s only ever made a few appearances
over the years but none that have been particularly well received since getting
married.

I get his attention with some girly hair flicking
and once I know he is looking at me I casually scan the spirit dispensers
behind the bar as though I’m deciding what to order. I try to flutter my eye
lashes and look sweet. He looks away.
Dammit.
I regain his attention by
stroking all of my hair across so it drapes over my left shoulder, exposing the
right side of my neck. Slowly, I rub my right shoulder and stretch my fingers
out, gliding up and down my neck. It’s exactly what I’d do if I’ve been working
on my laptop for hours but I’m just hyping up the
sexy
so it can be
misconstrued either way. I slide my hand back down via the front of my neck,
low enough that the base of my wrist reaches my cleavage.

My peripheral vision confirms that he hasn’t
taken his eyes off me and inside I’m jumping up and down squealing because the
bartender has served him, he has his drinks yet he’s not looked away from me
once. Cha-ching! Miss Fierce has awoken from a self-induced coma, she dusts
herself off and clears her throat; ‘
Hell yeah, we’ve still got it bitches! Too
legit to quit!’

I don’t make eye contact with participant
number one, who disappears into the crowd somewhere. Time for another? I
enjoyed that! I get Wills’ attention holding my finger up to gesture that I’ll
be there in a minute. She’s chatting and laughing with some cute guy, so I know
she’s more than okay. More confident now, I quickly select participant number
two from directly opposite me on the other side of the island. Older this time,
dark hair, suited as though he’s come out straight from work.

Whilst I’m planning my approach we make eye
contact so I’ve no choice but to go with the flow. Instead of my friendly
teethy smile, I smile with my eyes and pouty glossed lips. When his intrigued gaze
lingers, I take my cue to suck in my bottom lip and slowly release it, dragging
my teeth along it. My full lips making light work of the gesture. This is
something I’d innocently done the other night whilst engrossed in the
television, eating ice cream and Wills’ jaw dropped. She went on to show me how
to do it again with a twist that makes it look ‘sweet sexy’, rather than
‘pornstar sexy’, so not a lot of tongue action. I watch as his eyes break away
from my lips to scan what he can see of my body, namely my tits! He looks satisfied
with his initial assessment and confidently starts making his way around the
bar towards me.

Ohh shit… Fuckity, fuck, fuck…
He’s called my bluff. What
am I going to say to him? ‘Sorry mate, I’m not interested really, I was just
practicing a bit of facial flirting’. My inner Miss Sensible is announcing
‘Abort, abort. Retreat. You are not ready. I repeat, you are not ready!’

I bring my attention back to getting served and
thankfully the bartender comes straight over. I’m flustered and blushing. I
order four beers and luckily he doesn’t have to move away from me to grab them
from the fridge so I engage him in some mediocre conversation about Barbed.
Then participant number two, bold as brass, stands right beside me. He faces
his body towards me whilst leaning his right elbow on the bar. I’m not sure if
it’s a sexy confidence or ugly arrogance. But one thing’s for sure; he smells
good.

The bartender places my change in my hand and his
fingers loiter in my palm longer than necessary. He flashes a killer wink and
moves on to the next customer. Jeez, I need to get back to Wills quick, I’m sinking
quicker than the Titanic here. I fumble around putting the change in my purse
then grab two bottles between my fingers in each hand.

“Hey, looks like you’ve got your hands full—”
His voice is deep and actually quite nice but there’s definitely an air of egotesticle
swag. Miss Alter Ego, my new wing woman – an amalgamation of Miss Seductive and
Miss Fierce – has gone for a much needed intimate wax so I helplessly default
to my friendly smile.

Trying to make a sharp exit, we both notice my
purse on the bar at the same time. He is right, my hands are full… So I do what
any self-respecting single lady in a hurry would do; I panic and say, “Erm…
Could you just put it in my mouth please?”

What the actual fuck?
I am deliriously
stupid. Is my brain really that wired into not vetting. Just because I mean it
innocently, doesn’t mean to say it sounds like that… He picks up my purse.

“O-oh it would be
my pleasure
sweetheart.”
Yes, I have no choice but to oblige and open wide like a fucking sex doll.
Placing the purse in my mouth, I almost gag on his words. It feels like I’m
blushing from head to toe. I practically barge my way through the crowd back to
Wills. She retrieves the purse from my mouth and introduces me to this hunk who
gives me a swift kiss on the cheek and politely leaves after typing his number
into Wills phone.

I hand Wills two of the beers and almost down
one of mine.

Of course she finds my recollection hysterical,
as do I…
eventually
. Participant number two keeps catching my eye from
across the room and smirking like he’s on a promise. Wills convinces me that
it’s not an altogether epic fail.

I reach into my pocket and slide my rubber ring
back on to help stop me from drowning again. We dance and laugh the night away,
whilst I practise my flirting. Wills gets a couple more phone numbers and by
the end of the night I realise I haven’t felt guilty for flirting or ogling men
all night. Wills had to translate some things I had either said to me or about
me, like being called ‘dench’ and ‘peng’ a few times, which apparently is a
good thing. One guy simply whispered in my ear ‘You are on fleek’, then looked
me up and down, nodding his head, licking his lips. I guessed that being ‘on
fleek’ was also a compliment of sorts.

I upped my game considerably, relaxing and
becoming more assured. Finally able to loosen up without the need for more sex
doll impressions.

The bars lights flicker on and off to indicate
last drinks orders so we stumble off the dance floor randomly singing “It’s
raining men” by The Weather Girls and it really does feel that way. We call a
taxi from outside and stand around giggling and shivering until it arrives. I’ve
unexpectedly enjoyed the attention we’ve had this evening; the subtle stares
and obnoxious glares, the lovely compliments and even the drunken chat up
lines. I’m just pleased that I feel at ease and there’s no uncomfortable mental
barrier.