Page 12 of Falling for Fury
Casey grabs my arm. “I have an idea.” She giggles under her breath as her permanent sunshine tries to warm my icy exterior. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a few chicken breasts.
“I am going to make chicken parmigiana tomorrow night. Want to help me prep?” Her eyes shine as she winks at me, but I just get more frustrated as she gets out a pair of cooking gloves and sets up the chicken with baking paper on a chopping board. “Here.” She hands me a mallet and then grabs another out of the drawer. Of course, she has two mallets.
She starts on one chicken breast, slamming it down on the chicken breast before looking up at me. “Give it a go. Pretend it’s Geoff. Or Greek sex-god. Even JJ. Whatever helps.” She smiles at me, and I can’t help it, her sunshine cracks my rain cloud, and I drop my jacket and join her as we mallet the chicken together in silence.
It’s dark out by the time we are finally on the way to the bar. Casey didn’t bring up the crying or the anger again. She just let me beat the shit out of some chicken breast, and we left as soon as Rosie dragged herself out of the bathroom. My shoulders feel a bit lighter, my chest a bit freer, after getting rid of some of that prickling energy.
As we walk the few blocks to the bar, I play with the two rectangle business cards in my pocket. The corners poke into my palm as I chew on my decision whether to keep my petty dislike for Noah and refuse to take his olive branch of a job offer, or if I swallow my pride and apply for a job because let’s face it… I need to get paid. You also need to get laid.
Immediately ignoring that inner voice, I release a groan and scold myself for not accepting the kindness for what it is, and I pull out the card Noah gave me and send off a message.
Is that desperate? I send the text, anyway, and wait for a reply. Rosie and Casey chat amongst themselves, mostly about what we are going to order when we sit down at the bar, reminding each other. “I have work tomorrow, so we are not ordering Espresso Towers or Pints. Two drinks, enough to make Ads laugh once… or we settle for a smile and leave before 11pm.” I shake my head as I listen to what I have heard plenty of times before, when they inevitably call in sick the next day. Rosie is a junior editor at a major publishing house in the city, whereas Casey co-owns a Pilates & Yoga studio with her sister Grace. They are both qualified physiotherapists, and the studio has so far been successful for about two years.
While Casey and Rosie get lost in conversation together, I take the space and fresh air to breathe, cooling the blood in my veins, willing the bubbling anger to dissipate so I can enjoy this night with the girls; be that happier, calmer version of myself.
When we finally arrive at the bar, Lucas’s response comes in.
Noah mentioned me? No, Noah told Lucas a lot about me? The guy doesn’t even know me! Breathe, you are not your anger.
I type back a few messages asking more about this, but backspace and try again. I type out five different responses before I decide I will just ignore the comment.
We find a table with an easy enough viewing of the screen, grab a drink each, and get comfortable as Rosie grabs some menus. I don’t tell them about my messages with Lucas because, well, I think I’d rather see if I actually get it first. It isn’t a job in a law firm. I haven’t quite worked out why I’m glad about that, and I’d rather not risk the disappointed looks or judgement that I’m not actively looking for a job at a firm and settling for a hospitality position.
I make to look around the room and realize it isn’t as busy as usual. The bar is located in an old corner pub, but renovated into a modern sports bar. TVs line the walls, betting machines and modern décor that seem at odds with the sporty old pub building.
There are only a few guys over near the left bar, cheering at the screen like typical frat boys, slapping each other on the back and spilling their beer. An old couple furthest from the sports screens and a few scattered people sitting at the bar.
Rosie smacks the menus down and stares into my soul. “Were you serious about trying dating again? For real.”
“Ugh, yes, Rosie I will, God. Why are you so interested in my sex life?”
“There is a group of appear-to-be-hot, likely-single guys over by the bar. I couldn’t see all their faces or ring fingers, but they have hot backs—good asses—quite tall. I think you should go say hi,” she says, lowering her head to the table, whispering as though we are discussing a top-secret case. Casey makes her way back from the bathroom and sees us with our heads lowered, Rosie with a look of playfulness on her face, and mine stuck in a face palm.
“Oooo, what are we talking about?” she says in a loud whisper, her smile growing on her face.
“Nothing!”
“I am encouraging Ads to go over and flirt with those dudes.” She gestures to the guys by the front bar.
“Ohh… you mean Matt and his friends?” My head snaps to the bar. One of the said frat boys, actually the only one of them dressed in a business suit, is my brother-in-law Matteo.
Huh. “MATT?” I shout.
“Ads! Are you watching this game?” He is excited and very drunk as he makes for our table at a fast pace. He throws his knuckles out that I meet before I look to the screen again, my smile growing with excitement at the display of sexy athleticism on the TV.
“What are you doing on this side of town?” I ask him, confused why he isn’t at one of his nice bars near his rich-people village.
“Celebrating, finalized a deal today that is super exciting, that I can’t tell you anything about—” he winks, and I roll my eyes, “and the guys wanted to come to Pucks. We decided one beer, but then the game came on, and I guess now it’s however many beers until the game is finished.” He sips on his beer and continues, eyes remaining on the screen.
“What are you ladies doing out on a Monday night?” he asks the table.
“Just here for din—”
“Trying to get Addison laid,” Rosie interrupts me. Matt spits out his beer as he chokes to regain his breath, and I turn my death stare on Rosie, who shrugs her shoulders as if to say, What, it’s true. “Any of your friends single, Matt?”
“Who are you asking for?” he accuses Rosie with a look laced with meaning. I look over at the group, just out of normal curiosity. It should be illegal for one friend group to have so many tall-appear-to-be-hot-from-behind friends.
“Well… if there is more than one, perhaps we can each have a single Matt-friend?” Rosie says to Matt, wiggling her eyebrows as he chokes down a laugh. Casey just smiles, shaking her head and reading the menu, now thoroughly used to Rosie’s antics.