Incidental Happenstance (2 page)

            “I understand why you’re worried; I do. But really—all I plan to do is find a little spot in the corner of the bar and do some people watching. I just need to be part of a crowd and soak up some of the energy. It’s been so long since I’ve been a single girl in a bar—a single girl anywhere—and I don’t even know what they do anymore. It’s hard to imagine it right now, but I’m going to need those skills eventually, and it’s been six freaking years since I’ve needed them. Tonight’s going to be a little training course, that’s all. So you and Ryan go to your fancy dinner, enjoy a night together as a couple, and have a great time without your constant third wheel tagging along.”

            “You’re never a third wheel, Tia. Don’t ever think that. Ryan loves you too, you know.”  

            “I do know, and you know that I love you both back. You’ve been my rocks this past year, and I could never thank you enough.”

            “Jace has been there a lot too, you know.”

            Tia snickered. “Yeah, like he’s not sick and tired of having to babysit me.”

            “I really don’t think it’s much of an imposition for him at all. I think he likes you.”

            Tia laughed and let the comment roll off her back. “Not likely. He just feels sorry for me, like everyone else at the Club does. I can feel their pitiful eyes on me all the time and it’s getting really old.” She curled her legs under her and massaged her temples. “Look. For the past year I’ve done nothing for myself except to drown in self-pity, and it’s way past time to knock it the hell off.  I have to discover who I am now; just me.”

            “Oh, all right,” Lexi conceded. “I can see I’m not going to talk you out of this. But I want you to call me the minute you get home, understand? I don’t care what time it is, you
call
me. I’m going to be worrying about you all night.”

            “No need to worry,” Tia said confidently, but inside, her nerves were starting to gnaw at her.

            “And no picking up any guys unless you carefully inspect their fingernails. And their wallets. Understood? Actually,” she added, “no picking up guys at all. I like that idea better.”

            “Yes mother,” Tia groaned sarcastically.

            “Hey,” she said. “Not funny. You know I could call your mother and tell her what you’re up to tonight. You know she’d be just as thrilled about it as I am.” It was an empty threat, Tia knew, and when she didn’t respond Lexi said again, “Just promise you’ll call me.”

            “I will.”

            “And consider going to the memorial. It would mean a lot to Paddy and Siobhan, and I really think you’ll regret it later if you don’t go.”

            “I’ll think about it, but no guarantees.”

            “Fair enough. And be careful.”

            “I will. Love you, Lex.”

            “Right back at you, girlfriend.”

            Tia tapped the end call button and walked to the sliding glass door that led out to her little deck. Spring had slipped in, and new life was blossoming everywhere. Green once again tinted the stark branches of trees, daffodils and bluebells sprung from the ground, and the birds were stag to sing again. The robins and the hummingbirds were back; and the world around her was being reborn. It was about time that she started living again, too.

            She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then went into her room and sat on the bed, contemplating the significance of the evening. Letting go of the past, starting a new chapter in her life, discovering her own identity—it was a lot to ask from one night at a little hole-in-the-wall pub, but she had to start somewhere. It had been a year since she’d been out in a crowd of strangers and Lexi was right—
Last Stop
wasn’t her kind of place, but then again, that was the reason she chose it. If she made a fool of herself, or started crying in her beer, she could write it off with her standard vacation mantra that she’d never see these people again, so what did it matter? There was almost no chance she’d run into anyone she knew—and that was the way she wanted it—she just wanted to be a fly on the wall, an anonymous spectator rather than a participant.

            She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a big part of her was terrified at the idea of joining the world again. She readily admitted that getting involved in another relationship at any time in the near future was more than daunting, it was downright frightening. The thought of starting over with someone new, going through the motions of first kisses, first dates, uncomfortable silences—she shuddered to think about it. Right now there was still a lot of pain associated with Nick, but she was learning to push it back and get on with her life. He would have wanted that for her, she was sure of it.

           
So get on with it
, she thought, getting up to stare into her closet. She pulled out a pair of weathered jeans and a blousy top. Not too form fitting, not too low cut, not too flashy. She grabbed a pair of simple tan pumps with a low heel, and considered her outfit complete.

            Sitting down at her vanity, she contemplated her image in the round mirror. It had taken many months, but the dark circles had finally disappeared from her below her eyes. She didn’t cry nearly so much anymore and actually had some good days once in a while. There was her work…God she loved her work…her ten year old students never failed to make her feel loved and she knew she made a real difference in their lives. She had her friends—and good ones at that, especially Lexi, and she was fairly confident that once she got back in touch with the rest of them; the next part of her plan to take back her life; they would forgive her blatant avoidances of the past year. Her parents, although they could sometimes be major pains in the ass, were always there for her and had really helped her through.

            What she didn’t have was Nick, and a sense of individual identity. After being one half of their couple for so many years, she just didn’t know how to
be
without him. That was what she needed to get back, and her most prominent reason for venturing out tonight. She was still young, after all, and couldn’t spend the rest of her life longing for something that would never be, could never be. She had to find out who Tia Hastings really was.

            It wasn’t going to happen tonight, but at least it was a start. Getting back in touch with the world, especially the single world, was going to take a concerted effort on her part. She didn’t know if she remembered how to flirt, how to flash a smile that sent a message in the level of the eyes, the toss of the hair, or the tilt of the head. She didn’t know if the old pick-up lines were replaced by new ones, or if it was still acceptable to refuse a kiss on the first date. What she needed was to get out there and relearn what it was like to be young, single, and ready for whatever the future held.

            She applied some clear gloss to her lips, a brush of gold shadow over her green eyes, and pulled her long dark hair back into a simple knot. The clock read 7:00 and she grabbed her small bag, keys, and cell phone from the table by the door. “Time to start living again,” she said aloud as she stepped out into the unseasonably warm May evening and headed for
Last Stop
; the first stop on her journey into her own future.

            It was early when she arrived, but she still had to park more than a block away. She had hoped to slip in when the place wasn’t too busy and grab a seat in the corner somewhere, but obviously the clientele here was already celebrating the start of Memorial Day weekend, a three-dayer, and the official start of summer in the Midwest. Inside, gratefully, the place was dark enough that she slipped in unnoticed, and the bar area was nearly empty. Most of the patrons were playing pool or darts, or were sitting at round tables in groups. Tia ordered a Sam Adams, the only beer on the menu that didn’t have some form of ‘Light’ in its name, and settled in to observe.

            The bar was a horseshoe shape, and she perched on a stool closest to the door. Shania Twain crooned from the fuzzy-sounding speakers of the jukebox, and a trio of tattooed girls in skin tight jeans and tank tops stuffed bills into the machine and argued over their next selections. There were three pool tables, and each hosted a testosterone-filled good-natured match. Most of the men wore baseball caps, faded jeans, and t-shirts advertising sports teams and various brands of mostly cheap beer. One proudly labeled its wearer as a member of the FBI—Female Body Inspector. There were a couple of cowboy hats and plenty of flannel shirts, and, as Lexi had predicted, most of the guys looked as though they’d put in a hard day’s work. They were rough around the edges without a doubt, and certainly not the sort that hung out at the country club. That was the point, though, and she sipped her Sammy and watched as a group of girls sauntered over to the pool tables to flirt with the men. Feeling a bit voyeuristic, she settled in to watch the interaction, which quickly turned to giggling, hugging, and one girl plucking the eight ball off the table just as a pretty decent looking blonde struck the cue ball.

            She let her gaze wander around the room as Keith Urban’s
Some Days You Gotta Dance
came blasting out of the jukebox. What could only be described as a whoop and a holler rose up out of the crowd as most of the women and a few of the men flocked to the empty spot of worn wood that doubled as the dance floor, formed a line and started to dance.  Although she wasn’t really a fan of country music and had never done so much as the Electric Slide, she found herself caught up in the sounds and the way the bodies moved to the beat. There was a comfort level, a camaraderie between the dancers as they switched partners, swung and twirled, and their boots stomped rhythmic beat into the floor. She found herself tapping her leg with her fingers to match the rhythm. When one of the pool players wandered over and asked her to dance, she smiled, thanked him, and politely declined.

            Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and she felt eyes on her—the sense that someone was staring. She swept her gaze across the bar, and then she saw him. He was sitting alone on the other side of the bar sipping what could only be a martini. The fancy glass with the floating olive was definitely out of place amongst the Miller Lite mirrors and sports paraphernalia adorning the dark walls. He held her glance for just a moment and then quickly turned his gaze away. A flicker of recognition passed over her, and she tried to place the face—hoping it wasn’t someone she knew from school. She looked over again to find him turned away from her, watching the dance floor behind him.  Her quick glance was enough to see that he was good looking, but he desperately needed a new hair style and a shave. He had a dark brown mullet, circa Billy Ray Cyrus—did people actually still wear their hair like that? She thought that fad died when Bono finally cut his off back in the 80’s. But when he turned his head, something else caught her eye, and she noticed a much lighter tuft of hair waving out just over his ear. He was wearing a wig; she realized—is that what you called it on a guy? She found herself intrigued. Why in the world would any man, who obviously had at least some blonde hair, choose to: A) wear a wig and B) make it a mullet?  And why was there something so familiar about his face? Well, she decided, she was here to observe, after all, and he was as good a candidate as any. She watched without being too obvious as he studied the dance floor.

            As she focused in on her target, Tia wove ridiculous stories in her mind. Maybe he was an undercover FBI agent on a surveillance mission just waiting for his mark to slip up. She glanced around the room at the pool players, dart throwers, dancers and drinkers. Could one of them be a fugitive from the law? Or maybe the guy was just going horribly bald, and was trying to delay the inevitable, or to look younger for the ladies.
Yeah, right
, she thought, smiling to herself—as if any self-respecting woman in this day and age would be seen with a guy sporting a mullet! She settled back into her stool and sipped her beer. Suddenly, this observing was getting a bit more interesting. But then, Lexi’s warnings started creeping into her mind and her thoughts grew darker. Maybe he was in disguise because
he
was a fugitive. He could be a serial killer stalking his next victim, hoping that the nationwide manhunt would be focused on a guy with a really bad hairdo—he’d commit the crime, and then dump the wig and be walking around with a luxurious head of long blonde hair…she shivered then at the idea that he had been watching her.

            Getting a grip on her own mind she laughed at herself and her sudden bout of paranoia. What were the chances, really? But then she thought about her car, parked over a block away on a dark and deserted street lined with closed businesses and crisscrossed with unmarked alleyways. A tingle ran up her spine, and she suddenly realized how alone she was here amongst all these total strangers. She decided then that she wouldn’t leave the bar alone; she’d ask the bartender to recommend someone who could walk her to car or, if she chickened out on that and she needed to, she could always call someone to come and meet her. It would be one more thing Lexi would hold over her head and gloat about forever, but Tia knew Lexi would come if she asked. In the meantime, mysterious mullet man was a curiosity, and if someone did come up missing tomorrow, she could at least give a good description of himhe room atand foil his mullet ploy.