Broken Heart (Broken Heart #1) (16 page)

I left Dave to walk around on his own, and I found a place to sit in the back of the gallery. They had a nice comfy couch with large square pillows and an ottoman to put your feet up. I could get

used to this. I placed my aching feet up on the ottoman and removed my shoes. My feet were hurting me so badly; they were throbbing through the facade of those beautiful silver pumps

shining in the night. My pinky toe was swelling up like a float at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. This was a nice time. It was peaceful and soothing, and they even had classical music playing

throughout the gallery; the piece was Meditation from Thais by Massenet. It was one of my favorite classical pieces. I leaned my head back against the couch and thought about the first time I had

listened to classical music. It was in high school; I was a sophomore. One day, my history teacher told us to listen to Bach and Vivaldi as we worked on a research paper on the history of classical music. He said the music would enhance our memory skills and take us to a different place in our

imagination. It was beautiful. The strings of the violins softly entered into my ears and penetrated straight through to my soul. I felt so free and calm. I imagined myself in another place, far away

from the open farmland where I lived; a place that was hidden and near the water; where you could only here the melodious sound of the waves gently making contact with the supple sand…a place

where I knew fighting and screaming were nonexistent; a secret location where only my mother and I could have gone, where she couldn’t feel any more pain. I remember asking my teacher if I

could borrow the CD so I could take it home. He did, and I played it sometimes at night alone in my room, which wasn’t often. It was only on the days my father wasn’t drunk and those were rare.

I always hoped and prayed for the day that my mother and I could go to that place, but that day never came. Maybe heaven is a place like that; maybe, she’s there right now. 

The soft, soothing classical music was rudely interrupted by Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to Me.” I like that song, but the DJ really ruined the mood when he made that switch. The waitresses began

skating around, and some of the people in the gallery looked like they were losing their minds yelling and dancing. All of those thin, elongated bodies in those red body suits showing their big

boobs became the center of attention. Some guys were running around after the waitresses, and they were laughing and hollering like lunatics. Jolie laughed and acted as if nothing was going on

around her. She sat and watched in delight. Hell, it was her opening, and she liked it. I knew she was a freak!

I turned to my left and saw Dave talking to a very pretty woman. She spoke with her hands and acted out her story. You can tell she was telling him something interesting because Dave was

totally into her. She was slim, about 5’9 with light brown wavy hair, shoulder length. She dressed very stylishly with a silver, skin-tight dress studded with sparkling rhinestones.

Her shoes had three-inch heels, and she didn’t tip over once even after a having a few glasses of wine. 

I shook my head and laughed with content. I was happy for Dave. He needed a woman in his life. I changed my mind about having a drink. I became bored and the relaxing classical music I was enjoying was replaced by a groin grinding let me do you song, that at one point I was willing to

join, but was too embarrassed to, so I didn’t. I didn’t see any of the waitresses. They were so busy skating around and shaking their boobs up and down they forgot to go around and serve the clients.

I decided to go to the bar myself. I slid my pumps back on hoping I could last in them without breaking a toe to the short walk to the bar. I stood at the bar and

I’m not going to lie, I was shaking it to Jason Derulo. There goes that Latin rhythm again. I can’t sit still when I hear a good beat.

“May I have an apple martini; can you throw some olives in there, please?” I asked the bartender who had his back towards me as I swayed my hips back and forth to the beat of the music.

“Sure.” He turned around slowly and smiled blinding me with a gold grill in his mouth. He was cute and of course, another typical looking bartender, tight t-shirt, muscles and blonde flowing hair that covered his round blue eyes. He had a tattoo on his wrist that read hell raiser. He looked up at

me as he blew his bangs in an upward direction and said, “Twelve-fifty,” then he stood there gaping at my breasts. 

“How much?” I heard someone say behind me. 

“What?” he asked, tilting his head to the side looking behind me. “Why?

Are you paying or just enjoying the view?” he asked rudely. 

I turned around to see who wanted to buy me a drink and who was checking me out. It was him…he wanted to buy me a drink, the blue-green-eyed god himself. Good Lord! I was speechless, and my eyes met his for a split second and then he looked away, and he said sarcastically to the bartender,

“Here you go, keep the change, hell raiser.” He threw a fifty-dollar bill on the counter and stood behind me. 

I turned away from him as I whispered, “thank you.” politely. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I was so surprised to see him there that my body was shaking, literally. What the hell was he doing here?

I can’t believe he is here and he bought me a drink…I felt as if he would have known how happy I was by the huge, intense, all white teeth, eyes popping out of my head, smile on my face. 

“May I join you?” he said as he sat next to me on the stool at the bar. 

I looked over at him, smirked and stood up and had enough nerve to say, 

“You know, I found a really nice comfortable couch in the back of the gallery.” I pointed towards the back and started slowly walking away. Oh my God, I actually invited him to sit next to me? How the hell did I manage to do that?

He followed me, and we both sat down. He watched me sit first and then he sat next to me, facing me directly. It was hard not to look at him without feeling like I was just struck by lightning. He

had an aura about him; A shining bright light that surrounded his whole incredible body. I felt star struck. He was so handsome that I could actually say he was “beautiful.” He was wearing a black

suit with a light grey shirt and black tie. His eyes were gleaming like emeralds in the dim light of the gallery. He was so sexy it spilled over everywhere he went…and he knew it.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he said with a skewed smirk on his face; “John Jay College and the men’s bathroom at STK, right?” I looked down at the floor in embarrassment and horror. He must have noticed how I felt and then he said quickly, “Why don’t we start over? Let me formally

introduce myself, Hi, I’m Michael…Michael Hunter…my close friends call me Mike…and you are?” he asked softly as his heart-shaped lips parted with anticipation for my response. 

“That’s a very formal introduction, Mr. Hunter. I’m Jenesis, Jenesis, spelled with a J,” I answered. Oh my God! How corny am I? Jenesis, spelled with a J. How elementary was that! He smiled a perfect smile at me, and I lost myself for a moment.

“Nice to meet you, Jenesis, spelled with a J. Do you have a last name? Oh wait, I remember…Heart…Jenesis Heart, right?” he replied as he extended his rather large hand to me.

“That’s right…great memory…Jenesis Heart, spelled like the heart-shaped heart, no middle name.” Okay…now I’m dying of embarrassment.

I smiled casually, and I reached out to shake his hand, and he held my hand in his. His touch electrified me sending shock waves throughout my body. I was rattled just by his touch alone. 

“What brings you to a boring place like this?” he said, catching a glimpse of my lips that rested on the rim of my martini.

“Oh, it’s not so bad, I like the art, but I could do without the artist.” I shrugged my shoulders as I placed the martini on the small pedestal table near me.

“I see you’ve met Jolie. She’s harmless, trust me.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, moving in closer towards me. He held his hands together studying my eyes that were batting every eyelash at him.

“Oh…you know her?” I had a feeling he did…and trust you? I don’t think so. I don’t trust anyone. I sat back a little moving away from him on the sofa. I was starting to feel intimidated by his good looks even though I wanted to be close to him…I couldn’t.

“Actually, I do. I worked with the lawyer who drew all of her paper work to rent this gallery. She is odd… but deep down inside… she’s a nice woman.” He laughed as he spoke. His smile consumed me. The more he spoke the more I wanted him.

“I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders in discontent.

“My job allows me to meet a lot of interesting people…like you,” he said as he waved his hand in the air to get the waitresses attention.

The waitress handed him a martini and smiled at him with her kittenish brown eyes. He looked at her, handed her a fifty-dollar tip, and gave her a soft, all white teeth, warm smile.

“Wow, big tip for one martini, don’t you think?” I said jokingly, but what I really wanted to do, was knock the tray from under that red big-boobed booby. “Is that how they do it out here in New York?” I asked with a hint of condescension. 

“Well, that’s New York for ya, but…when I wave my hand…she’ll run anyone over with her roller-skates to get us drinks…get it? Where are you from?” His blue-green eyes widened with curiosity.

“Pennsylvania,” I replied hoping he would change the subject.

“Where?” He was eyeing me and making me nervous.

“Lehigh County,” I answered quickly. I was starting to get nervous and now I really needed a drink.

“Nice, I love going to the Poconos. There’s a ton of things to do out there,” he said as he eyed me up and down, staring at my slinky silver pumps and stripping my tan legs of my silk stockings with his eyes. I waved my hand to the waitress to test his theory.

He was right…she did run some people over to get to us. I grabbed another martini to help ease my nerves. I was becoming anxious about our little discussion. I didn’t want him to ask me about

my parents. Somehow, I felt that that would be the next question, and I definitely didn’t want to answer.

“I didn’t ask you…do you work?” 

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh, you don’t want to tell me?” he said as he curled his lips to the side and leaned his shoulders back against the couch. His shoulders bulged out of his suit. I was hoping he took the jacket off, so I could get a better look.

“I work in a police precinct…I’m a secretary. I work nights,” I said a little ashamed. I took a quick sip of my martini and avoided eye contact. 

“Cool…” he said smoothly as he sipped his glass with his heart shaped lips.

How I wish I were the rim of that glass.

We laughed and smiled at one another as we kept our conversation flowing. We always managed to capture an extended glance into each other’s eyes. Even if we were silent for a moment sipping on our martinis, our eyes would always have something to say. My eyes wanted to say come closer

and kiss me tenderly on the lips. I really wanted to know what he was thinking about and what his eyes were saying to me. A song that was playing sounded familiar to me, it reminded me of my

mother and I when I was a child. I glanced up at him, and I saw his beautiful lips moving. He was singing the song silently to himself. My God! He’s just so adorable!

“You know these old songs. My mother loved this song. She would sing all of the time when I was a kid.” Of course, when the devil wasn’t around. 

“It’s pretty old, though.” 

“Yes, it’s an 80’s song. I’m a young guy with an old person trapped inside of me. I love the oldies, 80’s, and 90’s music. My mother played music all of the time. We used to dance together.” He

lowered his head for a moment. I wanted to change the subject; it seemed as if the mention of his mother saddened him so I asked for a drink.

“Hey, another drink? Let’s wave at the waitress…maybe someone will trip her on the way over here?” I laughed and he shook his head.

“Your bad…I like that.” He winked at me.

As the night went on and the conversation got deeper, Michael mentioned his mother and what a great relationship they had. She passed away after a long battle with breast cancer five years ago. He said that his father was not in his life and had left when he was three. It sounded like the typical

scenario. Why is it that the father is never around? Or he’s a drunk or a cheater? I listened to him and enjoyed his honesty, but I didn’t say anything about my father or my mother. What was I going

to tell him? That my father was a drunk and beat my mother every night? He must have noticed that I didn’t offer any information about my parents, so he didn’t pursue the conversation and I cut

it short. We were soon interrupted again by a waitress who offered us another drink. Soon the drinks kept coming and I was overcome with the heat of the liquor I had consumed. 

I took my shoes off and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I think the martinis are making my feet swell,” I giggled like a little schoolgirl, and he was enjoying every minute of it.