In Between Dreams (15 page)

She showed the bouncer her ID, and he let her right in. She noticed he was not as attentive to her as bouncers often were in her past. Her overall appearance had declined in the last couple of months.

She scanned the room for Sierra. The restaurant was full of small groups of partiers with a sprinkle of lonely singles who looked longingly around the room for a friendly face. It was like the singles were a link between pearls of groups in a sort of misshapen necklace that wound around the room. It only took her a couple minutes to see her friend at the bar with a couple guys who were apparently trying to impress the lovely Latina. Sierra was laughing loudly at what was probably a pretty lame pickup line.

Bailey walked through the crowded room to her. She put her hand on Sierra’s shoulder. The music was in Spanish, but the tempo was something Bailey could dance to. That was
if
she danced, which she rarely did.

Sierra turned around and threw her arms around Bailey. “You made it,” she yelled in her ear. Bailey knew Sierra was past her first drink. She was overly affectionate, a definite tell.

“I did,” Bailey yelled over the music. “You started without me.”

“I did,” Sierra squealed, and handed Bailey the shot she was holding in her hand. Her hair was curly and in a full side ponytail. Sierra shined outside of the office. “Catch up!”

Bailey nodded and poured the cold liquid down her throat. It stung on the way down, and Sierra shoved a lime into her mouth to chase the taste. Bailey relaxed a bit and resolved to herself to have a good time.

“We’re over there.” Sierra pointed at a booth in the corner of the room. “Make sure you say hi to my boyfriend!”

Bailey’s eyes followed Sierra’s finger to a large booth that was built a little higher than the rest like a skybox at a sporting event. This was the type of booth reserved for the regulars and considered a prime location for the evening’s festivities. It had a large shelf behind it where coats could be thrown with mirrors behind it reflecting the lights of the bar. It was a surreal effect right out of the ’70s. There were a couple women at the table, and they both strongly resembled Sierra. They were Latina and had her full hair and lips. They all sat shoulder to shoulder in the booth against one side of the very large bench seat. It could easily hold six or seven around the table. There was a slender black man who was wearing a polo shirt and seemed entirely out of place. His face portrayed that he wasn’t familiar with his surroundings. He was trying to make conversation with the women at the table to no avail. To his right was a tall Mexican man who had the blue glow of his phone reflecting on his face. He looked very uninterested in everything going on around him.

Bailey shuffled through the crowd to the table and sat next to the man who was on his phone. He looked up and gave her a head nod before looking at his phone again. She took a seat and looked across the table at the women.

“I’m Bailey.”

“I’m Ana,” the prettier of the two girls said. She had on light makeup and some jewelry to accent her bright red dress. “This is Lolita.” She pointed to the other girl. Lolita was wearing black and silver eye shadow and dark eyeliner. Her head was weighed down by her gold hoop earrings and her chain necklace. The jewelry made her head look smaller. She was in all black. Lolita was quite obviously trying to be mysterious, which was the least mysterious thing a woman can do.

“We’re Sierra’s sisters,” Lolita said with a quick but pleasant smile before scanning the room. Lolita was more interested in what was going on in the bar than meeting friends of Sierra’s.

Bailey nodded and looked at the men of the table; the slender man was pleased someone finally looked at him. “I’m Quentin.” He held out his hand to shake Bailey’s, and she stretched across the table and gave him a quick handshake. “This is Mark, Sierra’s boyfriend,” Quentin said, pointing to his right. The texting man looked up and smiled forcibly at Bailey. His eyes made the round trip from phone to face to phone quickly.

“Oh my God,” Bailey said with excitement. “I cannot believe we haven’t met before. I’ve heard great things.”

Mark looked up again and nodded. “I’m here to please the woman. You know how it is.”

Bailey brow wrinkled instinctively. “Not really,” Bailey said. “I don’t really have a girlfriend at the moment.”

“Oh my God, you’re a lesbian?” Lolita screamed. She had misinterpreted Bailey’s attempt at humor.

“Oh. N-no. Hardly. I like men,” Bailey stuttered quickly. She felt out of place, and she just got there. Meeting new people was sometimes awkward for Bailey, but in a loud bar, it felt impossible.

It had been over two years since she went on a date or met anyone new. Bailey was awkward in social situations due to lack of trying. She found small talk boring and always felt awkward when the topic of her sleeping disorder inevitably came up. But she promised herself she was going to have fun, so she shook off the uneasy feeling.

Another man walked up, passing Bailey on her left, and put his arm around Mark. He was shorter than Mark but had similar features. “Mark,
hermano
, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay—your girl just got here.” Mark pointed at Bailey, and the new man looked at her. “This is Bailey. Bailey this is my brother Emilio.”

His girl?
Bailey thought as she shook the man’s hand. She wasn’t anyone’s girl. She wanted to have fun with her friend. She cowered away from the man as the handshake broke. This was a setup; Sierra was always playing matchmaker.

Sierra walked up as Emilio moved around Bailey to sit on her right. Sierra sat in the seat beside Mark, and Emilio put his arm around Bailey. Sierra slapped Emilio’s arm and Bailey’s back at the same time.

“What was that for?” Emilio queried with an exaggerated sound of pain.

“Don’t claim her like territory,” Sierra growled, and pushed Mark to scoot over. “You invited your brother to be a horndog to Bailey?”, she scolded her boyfriend before striking him on the back of the head.

Bailey laughed in relief. She was very grateful she had Sierra. She always made things interesting, and she would not allow anyone to take advantage of her.

Bailey made conversation with the growing number of occupants of the table. Mark had finally put his phone down. Even though Mark had initially acted aloof, Bailey really liked him. He was the exact right guy for Sierra. He was into sports and rap music, but he obviously put up with girly stuff for Sierra. That made Bailey happy for the two of them. She thought Emilio was a little on the creepy side, but he was harmless enough. He tried too hard, which made him much less attractive to Bailey.

Lolita gave off “dumb blonde” vibe to Bailey, but she was really good at beckoning guys to come over to the table. Her scanning the room was rewarded with a barrage of drinks to the table from potential suitors. Lolita was the sugar of the table that drew the flies.

Ana was reserved and soft-spoken; from the ring on her finger and the overheard conversation, Bailey surmised she was married, which was why Ana continued to shoot down Quentin’s attempts at flirtation. Bailey offered to switch places with her so Quentin could have an unattached person to hit on. The table seating arrangements shifted awkwardly and gradually. Bailey moved away from Emilio to sit next to Quentin.

“Where are you from?” Quentin asked to get start the conversation.

“I was born in Atlanta,” Bailey told him. “But I’ve lived here most of my life.” She was trying to be friendly without giving off any signals. She was in no mood for romance at this juncture in her life. She was trying to salvage the evening. A few laughs, a few drinks, and a temporary distraction would be nice.

“I have family in Atlanta,” Quentin said. “It’s a cool city. But it’s a little hot for me.”

“Seriously, the humidity is killer.”

The waitress came over with another round of shots. Sierra took two, and Bailey and Quentin took one each. Quentin knocked his shot glass against Bailey’s softly. “To new friends.”

“I like that,” Bailey said with a wide grin. They each licked the salt off their glasses, took the shot, and chased it with a lime. Quentin grabbed two more and gave one to Bailey.

“Gotta drink them before Sierra gets to them,” he said before licking the salt off this glass and starting it all over again.

Bailey laughed and followed his actions.

Quentin made a face as he took the lime out of his mouth and decided to continue the conversation. “How long have you been working with Sierra?”

“Two years or so.” Bailey was struck by how long it had been. She loved working with Sierra, and their instant connection made her feel like she’d know her forever.

“Is she a hard-ass at work?”

Bailey smiled at the question and looked over at her boss. “You’d be surprised.” Bailey laughed looking back over at Quentin. “She is a hard worker and doesn’t pull any punches in the feedback arena.”

It was nice to have a normal conversation with someone who didn’t know her as Sleeping Bailey. It felt really good.

“What do you do?” Bailey asked.

“I’m in the middle of my residency to become a podiatrist.”

“A foot doctor?” Bailey teased, and took a swig of her margarita. “Tell me, do you wake up one day and say, ‘I want to look at feet for the rest of my life,’ or what?”

Quentin nudged her a little. “Yeah, actually the primary requirement is that I have a foot fetish.” Bailey’s head rolled back with a loud laugh at the comeback. He’d been asked the question before.

“Oh, good. I think that a profession that conforms to your fetish is always the best plan.”

“So you have a fetish for black ink on gray paper?” Quentin quipped. He had forgotten about Ana for now. Bailey looked over at Emilio to see
if he was upset about their flirtation. Emilio had moved on to a group of girls that were attending a bachelorette party across the room.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Bailey couldn’t even finish her short sentence before bursting out in laughter. She was on her second margarita after a series of three shots and enjoying the feeling of someone being interested in her. She leaned into him and continued her laughing fit, and he joined her. He put his hand over his mouth, and his shoulders shook up and down as he cracked up.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in years,” Bailey admitted when she came out of her fit.

Quentin shook his head. “You need to get out more often,” he suggested with a wink. Something in his eye made Bailey know he meant that she should get out with him. She was beginning not to hate the idea.

Another round of shots was brought to the table by the waitress as well as a plate of tacos. “I’m not going to be able to drive tonight,” Bailey said honestly as she picked up a shot.

“I’ll take you home,” Sierra promised. “By me, I clearly mean Mark.”

“No wonder you’re not having fun,” Bailey pointed out. “Designated driver,” she said, directing her comments at the phone watcher.

“I’m always DD with this one,” Mark said, and pointed his thumb toward Sierra.

Sierra was not offended in the least by his comment. Sierra gave the group a large ear to ear smile. “It’s true. I can’t hold my liquor.”

“You could if you drank less of it,” Ana remarked with a giggle, joining the conversation.

Sierra choked on her shot at the remark, and the whole table burst out laughing.

Quentin grabbed two tacos from the plate and handed one to Bailey and took one for himself. “Legitimately delicious,” Quentin said, raising his eyebrows before shoving the taco into his mouth.

“Clearly,” Bailey said, and scrunched up her nose.

She hesitantly brought the taco to her mouth and took a much smaller bite that Quentin had. She liked Mexican food, but she didn’t
like anything too hot. She knew if Sierra liked it, it must have a spicy kick.

She was pleasantly surprised with the flavors that engulfed her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Bailey said with her mouth still full.

“Right?” Sierra clapped her hands. “Now you know what I’m talking about.”

“So good.” Bailey was impressed with the food. She needed to get a new menu that didn’t exclusively involve microwave dishes and delivery. Her taste buds were malnourished.

Ana and Lolita nodded as they took massive bites of their tacos too. Bailey smiled to herself. The night had been a success. Tacos and tequila were exactly what she had needed.

The night continued with good conversation. By the end of the evening, Quentin was asking for Bailey’s number, and she was glad he did. She wrote her number on a napkin before saying her good-byes. He kissed her on the cheek, and a flash of Daniel came into her mind without warning. She jumped a little. She took a breath to erase the memory and smiled up at Quentin.

“You okay? Was I too forward?” Quentin asked, rubbing her shoulder.

“No,” Bailey said, like it was nothing. “Not at all. I had the cold chills.”

“Too much tequila?” he asked with a wink, and she nodded with a gracious smile.

Sierra and Mark drove her home after 2:00 a.m. She threw herself in bed and looked at the ceiling and was grateful for a fun night. She felt her eyes droop, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next day Bailey woke up with a pounding headache and a realization she’d left her car on a random street near the restaurant. After nursing her hangover with water, a painkiller, and a couple vitamin C pills, she headed to the closest bus stop.

Seattle had a great public transit system. There were bus stops everywhere, and the city was very easy to navigate. She took the bus
down to Pike’s Marketplace and decided to walk around to get some fresh produce while she was there. After eating the tacos from the night before, she wanted to expand her meals in the kitchen.

Seattle had great local produce and fresh fish that wasn’t overly expensive. After a couple hours of shopping, she walked the short two blocks to her car with an iced coffee and a large paper bag full of pears, cucumbers, nectarines, carrots, beets, asparagus, and a couple a pieces of salmon.

When she got home, she still had a headache from the night before. She picked up her phone for an impromptu phone date with Jason. She wanted to give him some good news, opposed to her normal boring chitchat about her worry of losing her job or her countless stories about her dream world.