Between Dreams (8 page)

I broke away from his grasp and regained my composure. I may have been buzzed but I wasn’t stupid.

“I’m not going to your house. You’re a stranger. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

I spun around and began to stumble down the road back in the direction of the bar. I hoped Chrissy was still there because there was no way I could drive myself home.

“I’ve already introduced myself,” he shouted after me. I stopped and turned back around. He ran the couple of steps to catch up to me and together we began walking towards the bar.

I slurred, “I know but we’re still in the stranger stage. I can’t go back with you to your house when we’re still in that phase of our relationship.”

Relationship? What a funny choice of words.

He took the last swig of the whiskey and threw the empty bottle into a nearby bush.

“Okay, so how do we come up with a solution? I mean, how do we move into the friend stage?”

I looked at him skeptically. “So now you wanna be friends with me?”

He jammed his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure. You seem like a pretty friendly person to hang out with.”

I smiled at his answer, thankful for the cover of night that could hide my lovesick puppy expression.

“Okay then, we should learn things about each other, like…where are you from and why are you in the Heights?” I asked, the curiosity burning inside of me.

We walked about a half a block in silence before he began to speak. “I’m from New Jersey.” I waited a few more minutes but nothing followed. I wasn’t buying it.

“You don’t sound like you’re from New Jersey. I mean, you don’t have that god awful accent like the cast from
The Jersey Shore
.”

If I was giving him any heat, he wasn’t allowing himself to get burned. He pulled a pack of Marlboro Reds from his shirt pocket and placed a cigarette in his mouth. He explained, “First, God has nothing to with their accents, second, that’s because most of that cast is from New York, so they’ve acquired that annoying Long Island accent.”

He pulled a lighter out from his pocket and stopped while he lit his smoke. Once the red amber flared up we began walking again. I never thought smoking a cigarette could look so sexy.

“I still don’t know if I believe you about the whole Jersey thing, but why are you here in Noddington Heights? You never explained that part.”

Squinting his eyes at me, he shook his head. “I’m getting the feeling you have a lot of trust issues.”

He calmly took a drag of his smoke and slowly exhaled.

Sexy should be this guy’s middle name.

“I’m getting the feeling you’re a liar, like most men.”

He smiled at my accusation as he continued walking. “My family lived here years ago. I’m staying in the old McAllister house down on Court Street. I actually just came here to handle some family business. I plan to head back home at the end of the week. At least, that’s what my plane ticket says.”

He patted his back pocket. I could feel my anger working its way back up. I was really starting to enjoy this guy’s company. Here he was, discussing the possibility of becoming friends just to tell me he’s leaving.

I no longer attempted to hide my disappointment. “Well, if you’re just going to leave in a week then I really don’t really see the point in being friends.” I picked up my pace and began to walk a few steps ahead of him.

He didn’t attempt to catch up to me, and instead shouted, “Well, if I had a friend, maybe I wouldn’t leave. I mean,
if
that friend wanted me to stay all they’d have to do is ask.”

I no longer heard his footsteps behind me. I continued walking, too stubborn to give in and play his game. I was so sick of boys and their childish ways. I didn’t even know him and now he wanted me to beg him to remain with me?

I defiantly thought,
I’d rather go on a date with Jason back at the bar.

I kept walking without looking back. I was all the way down to the Market now and Adrian was nowhere behind me. I glanced in the direction of the bar and saw there were still a bunch of people loitering out front. I could hear Chrissy’s loud laugh, so I knew she was still there. She was probably not missing me in the least. I considered crossing the street and heading back to the bar but then I thought about Adrian. I didn’t want to leave our conversation half-finished like this. I turned back around and began marching back up Main Street.

A few blocks later I smelled the scent of a burning cigarette. My guess was that it was a Marlboro Red…

He was sitting on a fire hydrant as if he were expecting me to return.

How arrogant.

I marched right up to him. “Look, I don’t know you well enough to make that decision for you to stay or go. If you want to stay, then cool. If not, then have a safe flight. People from Jersey seem kind of annoying anyway, so by the time the end of the week gets here I might be dying for you to go back.”

It was odd how I was at a loss for words initially and now I had no shortage of insults to fire at him.
Familiarity really may breed contempt.

He just sat there on the hydrant, looking as if he were enjoying this conversation way too much. He took one final drag of his cigarette and flicked it into the gutter. He brought his green eyes up to mine and smiled. “I guess we’ll just take it day by day then.”

I plopped down on the sidewalk next to his feet and together we sat in silence. A strong gust of wind blew in, sending a shiver down my spine, reminding me that winter wasn’t quite over yet. I crossed my arms, trying to stay warm. Adrian stood up and looked down at me.

“You didn’t tell me anything about you.”

I looked up at his pretty face, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

“Friendship is a two way street you know,” he prompted.

“What do you want to know?”

He sat down next to me on the sidewalk, his arm touching mine, once again igniting the spark I couldn’t deny. “Anything and everything. You seem like a pretty complex person, Sidney. I’m dying to peel back those layers and see what’s underneath.”

I buried my head in my knees so he couldn’t see my face turning salsa red. I didn’t know if he was referring to my emotional layers or my clothing. I began thinking of what I could tell him.

“Well, I’m totally obsessed with music and I can pretty much relate every song to my life,” I spilled out.

Gosh, what a stupid thing to say
, I immediately thought.
Here this guy is asking for something personal about my life and I tell him that I like music. What an idiot I am.

“That’s interesting,” he pondered. “So what song fits best in your current situation and please, don’t select an Aaliyah song.”

We both burst into laughter recalling our earlier encounter at the bar when Chrissy cut the rug dancing to the played out ‘90s music.

“I guess it would be that Lupe Fiasco
song,
‘Battle Scars.’ As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back. Obviously that song reminded me of Ray and I still remembered Adrian’s reaction to Chrissy mentioning Ray at the bar. Not to mention the song I had chosen was about someone being at war with love and how the wounds you receive on a battlefield are similar to the wounds you may receive in love. The enemy is within and the fire you receive is friendly, the wounds never heal, and they don’t fade.

How pathetic did that make me sound?

“So it must be about you and a boyfriend then?” he deduced.

“Yeah. Ray.” I guessed now was as good a time as any to delve into the drama of Sidney and Ray. “He’s a musician. He’s down in L.A. now, working on an album. As you can guess, there’s a lot of temptation in the industry he’s chosen. Let’s just say we’ve had our fair share of struggles due to that issue.”

There. I had said it. If Adrian wanted to board the next plane to New Jersey, then so be it.

Suddenly, I felt a slight vibration on my hip. I looked down and realized just how close Adrian and I were sitting to each other. He shifted his weight to his left side and reached into his jean pocket as he pulled out his cell phone. It was lit up, signaling a call was coming in.

He slid his finger across the screen and rejected the call, putting the phone back in his pocket just as quickly as he pulled it out. He jumped up anxiously and said, “Okay. We’re not strangers anymore. Let’s get you some coffee so you can sober up and then we’ll get you home.”

He began walking before I could argue with him. I turned and looked at the silhouettes at the bar one last time, deciding if I should just go back and find Chrissy. But then I saw Adrian wasn’t waiting this time and in a split-second decision, I followed him.

***

I had known the old McAllister house well. Every Heights resident did. It was a historical landmark, being the first library built in town. Established in 1853, its operation only lasted a few years during the gold rush years before being sold and converted into a residence.

Before I was born, the owners used to offer tours to the local school children during field trips. After its proprietor passed away, it had just been sitting there vacant for the last twenty or so years.

We strolled up the narrow walkway, passing the giant flag pole and up the wooden stairs that led to the stately wraparound porch with two massive white marble pillars on each side of the red front door. The porch light illuminated his beautiful face, which allowed me to sneak another glance.

I whispered, “I can’t believe you’re staying in this house.”

He smiled as he put the key in the keyhole. “Why…and why are we whispering?” he whispered back.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to wake your parents or anything.”

The smile dropped off of his face instantaneously, “You’d have to try a lot harder than that, Sidney.”

He turned the key and the lock clicked. Opening the door, he signaled for me to enter first. As I passed him he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You can’t wake the dead.”

I stopped in the entryway and turned to face him. I felt so terrible for even mentioning his parents. “Oh my god, Adrian. I’m so sorry.”

His smile returned. “I don’t think God has anything to with it, but thanks for your condolences.” He put his hand on the small of my back and gave me a gentle push into the foyer.

He turned on some lights and then headed towards the back of the house. I glanced around at the old estate. It looked pretty clean for being vacant for the past two decades. It had original hardwood floors with a matching staircase. The molding around the ceilings and windows were exquisite. The carvings in each piece were so unique and original you could tell they were done by hand and created by a master carpenter years ago. The living room was directly to the left with the staircase immediately in front of me. There was a long hall with several doors to the right. I walked to the left of the staircase, passing the living room, dining room, and eventually ending up in the kitchen.

It was a little outdated in appearance, like it had been remodeled in the 1930s. Adrian was at the yellow and teal-tiled counter preparing some coffee. I took a seat at the small dinette table and rubbed my eyes. The high from the alcohol was starting to fade and I was now fighting off drowsiness. I began to wonder why I had even come back here with Adrian. It was a good thing my home was only three blocks away. I could leave any time I wanted, which prompted me to begin taking mental notes of the nearest exit.

“So, I came here temporarily, it wasn’t my intention to stay very long,” Adrian said, catching my attention.

He poured two small cups full of coffee and walked them over to the table and sat down. I took my cup and drank it down greedily. I needed the caffeine.

“The truth is that I’m only here long enough to handle my affairs.”

I scratched my head, wondering why he was telling me this. Did he plan on getting me back to his house under false pretenses that he would be staying and now he was feeling remorse for lying to me?

“But I can stay longer than the original one week. There’s a firm in Sacramento that offered me a six-month contract. If I need to extend it for a year they’re okay with that.”

My head was spinning, this was too much information at one time. I didn’t even know how to process any of it. I laid my head on the dinette table and closed my eyes.

“A firm…like what kind of firm?” I slurred slightly, forcing my eyes back open and glancing over at him.

Adrian cocked his head to the side and gave me that crooked smile of his. “Is there anything other than a law firm?”

I sat up. “Okay, Warren Buffet,” I began. “A firm typically means a large corporation or enterprise, so if you want to get technical about it, then I think I asked a very valid question.”

I could feel my adrenaline returning. I wasn’t sure if it was the coffee or just him pressing my buttons.

He was impressed. “Okay, Webster’s dictionary, who’s getting technical now?”

“As I was saying, are you a
lawyer?
”

He drank his coffee and then set the mug on the table. “Not quite yet. I still need to pass the bar exam. After college my father got me a job in his
firm
…primarily as a paper pusher, but it gave me the experience I needed and prepared me for the bar exam. When he and my mother passed away last spring in a car accident, my life was placed on hold until I could figure things out. Here I was twenty-two years old and the owner of the most prominent law firm in all of New York City…”