Stealing Phin (6 page)

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong,” I frowned.

“Any why the hell not? We tell each other everything. You know where I stash my emergency vibrator, for God’s sake.”

“Rule number one,” I confessed. “I know I’m not supposed to think about Douglas because it just makes me sad, but I can’t help it. The tour was fun and distracting for a while, but as soon as the distraction is over, I just feel depressed all over again.”

“That’s natural. You just broke up. It’ll take time to get over him.”

“It’s not just that. I’m not only feeling sad. I’m feeling guilty.”

“Guilty about what?”

“About going out on a date.” I hesitated before making my full confession. “I think I want Douglas back.”

Dez stopped in her tracks and have me a serious look. “Did you hit your head against a rock today?”

“No. Why?”

“Because I think you must be suffering from amnesia,” she inhaled sharply. “Let me refresh your memory of the events that led to the demise of your relationship.

“Your boyfriend-slash-boss sent you home early to get ready for the nice dinner he was going to take you out on for your anniversary. Then, he called to say he was sorry but something came up at work,
again,
and he was going to have to postpone.

“You, being the nice girlfriend that you are, decided to surprise him at the office with Chinese food from his favorite place.

“You walked into his office to discover that something came up all right. You caught the bastard getting a blowie from his hot nineteen-year-old-floozy secretary.

“After throwing his egg foo young onto the floor, which I thought was your only mistake—you should’ve thrown it
at
him
—you dumped the two-timing asshole and quit your job. Bravo.

“Did I miss any details out? Perhaps the one detail that might actually justify his cheating and make you want to take him back? I don’t know—maybe the floozy is like a sperm vampire who needs to suck on it to survive, and he was just trying to save her life? Enlighten me, please.”

Dez’s face was red with anger by the time she finished. Even her cleavage looked angry.

What I wanted to say to her was that it was more complicated than that. I loved Douglas. He was my first true love. I planned to marry him. To have a family with him.

It wasn’t just a boyfriend or a job I’d lost that day. I’d lost my future. I’d lost my sense of self. I wasn’t Douglas’s girl anymore, and being his girl had made me happier than anything else.

And now, I wasn’t sure what made me happy, or who I was without him.

But I didn’t say any of that. Thinking it was one thing, saying it out loud would make what was already painful too much to bear. Plus, it’d just sound downright pathetic. Especially after Dez’s run-down of the facts, none of which I could exactly deny.

“I’m sorry, Dez,” I said instead. Even if she didn’t understand, I knew she was only trying to look out for me. She was like the protective big sister I never had. “I promise to try to get out of my own head. It’s just that my heart won’t stop pumping out the pain.”

Dez sighed. “Tell you what. How about I buy you rounds of tropical hurricanes until you can’t feel
anything
. Then, I’ll put Carlito in charge of making you to feel good again.”

I nodded and smiled, worried that if I said, “Okay, that sounds great!” she’d know I was lying.

When we entered the Lava Lounge, the place was packed with tourists and locals alike. Modern reggae with a danceable beat pumped its rhythms throughout the room. Red rope lights decorated the ceiling and walls imitating lava flowing from a giant mural of a volcano. The crowd was young and hip. The vibe was cool and fun. My spirits began to lift. I became determined to have a good time.

Estevan and Carlito spotted us and waved us over to a table they’d claimed. They both looked smart yet casual in polo shirts and khaki shorts.

Estevan’s eyes just about popped out of his skull when Dez and her girls plopped into the seat next to him. “Se ven deliciosos,” he said to Dez’s breasts.

“I don’t know what you said, honey, but keep on talking. Your accent turns me on.” She slid her pink tongue lightly over her teeth and put her boner-inducing moves on full-throttle. Leave it to Dez to make it impossible for the poor guy to stand up before we even had our first round of drinks.

Carlito pulled the chair next to him out for me. “Sit down, my little dancer. I will order us a special drink. The bartender, he is my cousin and owes me money. We will drink for free tonight.” He whistled sharply and yelled an order at the bartender.

A few minutes later, a waitress delivered a tray of shots.

“What is it?” I asked as I sniffed the clear liquid.

“A special Costa Rican drink called Guaro,” Carlito said. “It is sweet—made from sugar cane. You will like it.”

Estevan raised his shot glass. “To sexy American girls! And to pura vida!” He downed his drink and sucked air in through his teeth as the alcohol went down. The rest of us followed suit.

“Whoa,” I coughed. “This stuff is strong!”

“Strong, but good,” Carlito said. He leaned toward me. “Good for making you forget all your
serious stuff
.”

I smiled as the warmth of the alcohol immediately began numbing me from the inside. “Sounds like exactly what I need.” I let myself sink into the numbness all too willingly.

“I’ve got two questions,” Dez said. Her eyes were already shining from the potent shot of Guaro. “What the fuck is pura vida, and can we get another round of shots?”

Three rounds of Guaro later, the Lava Lounge began to rock beneath my feet.

“Pura fuckin vida, amigos!” Dez slurred as she clinked shot glasses with Estevan. She winced as she took the shot down. “This guava stuff is potent. Can I get this duty free?”

“Guaro, not guava,” Estevan laughed. “It would be dangerous if it grew on trees like fruit. All our howler monkeys would fall off the branches drunk.”

Dez leaned toward him. “I’ll make
you
howl like a monkey tonight, muchacho.”

The two of them began to make out violently. Any minute now and the volcano in Estevan’s pants would explode.

Carlito took my hand in his. “You have pretty hands, amiga. Delicate.” He pressed his lips to it. Then he held my hand closer to his eyes. “This is a nice ring. It looks valuable. You should be careful wearing such jewelry here. The monkeys are great thieves. And they love shiny things.” He slid his hand up my thigh. I jumped at his touch.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.” I clutched my hands together and walked unevenly across the room. I fingered the ring on my right hand—the promise ring Douglas had given me on my birthday, six months after we started dating.

I
promise
to
love
you
like
no
other
man
could,
he had said when he gave it to me.

I’d never taken it off since. I knew I should give it back to him, especially since he’d broken his promise. But I just couldn’t get myself to take it off. It felt like a part of me.

Unable to make it all the way to the restroom without keeling over, I made a pit stop at the bar and leaned against the counter. “Agua, s’il vous-plait.”

“It’s
por
favor
,” a voice said.

I looked to my right and nearly vomited on the spot.

It was
him.

Of all the bars in this town, why did he have to come to
this
bar on
this
night…and when I was
this
drunk
? There was no longer any doubt in my mind that the entire world was conspiring against me.

“What the heck are you doing here?” I squinted at The Hottie. “And who do you think you are, talking all Spanishy and stuff? Mister Señor whatever-your-name-is.”

“My name is Byron,” he said. “Byron Michaels.”

“Well, Byron Michaels, did you come here to trick other girls into thinking you’re gay so you can get them to take off all their clothes for your amusement?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,
Lord
Byron
. Don’t play deaf.” The bartender set a glass of water in front of me. Or maybe it was two glasses of water. Hard to tell.

“What made you think I was gay?”

“First of all,” I pointed a finger in the air, “you’re a flower hunter. And you happen to be hunting for my favorite flower, did you know that? I bet you didn’t. Because guys never pay any attention to that sort of thing. I must have told Douglas fifty times that I love orchids, and he always got me roses.” I waved my hand under my nose. “Which I hate, by the way. They smell like old piss.”

I made a grab for the glass of water, but the damn thing kept moving around, so I ended up knocking it over. The bartender rolled his eyes at me and left to fill another glass.

“Second of all,” I continued, “you didn’t try to get with Dez. And if you don’t want to get with
that
,” I pointed in the general direction of where my friend sat, “then, I hate to break it to you, but you
must
be gay, my friend.”

“I’m not gay,” said Lord Byron. He smiled despite himself.

Why did he always have that look on his face? Like he was getting a kick out of some joke that I didn’t get. I wished he wasn’t so damn handsome. It’s always easier to despise someone when your mind and your body are in agreement over it.

“Well, I know that
now
,” I rolled my eyes. “There isn’t a gay bone in your body,” I said a little too loudly. “I saw your…your…” My eyes drifted down to his crotch. Big mistake.

Suddenly, my train of thought left the station, and all I could think of was Lord Byron in his boxer briefs.

“My what?” Byron said with a crooked grin after I’d been openly staring at his crotch for I-don’t-know-how-long.

I gathered what few wits I had left, thanks to the Guaro, and narrowed my eyes at him, which only made me see double again. “You
know
what.”

His grin widened and he chuckled. “You’re funny.”

At first I thought he was making fun of me, but even in my Guaro-induced haze, I could see that he was at least half sincere.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I snorted, not wanting to accept his compliment. I still didn’t trust the guy. He was too good-looking to be trustworthy. “Funny Phinegan Swift.”

“Well, Phinegan Swift, let me buy you a drink,” he segued smoothly into a pick-up line. How schmoozy of him. “It’s the least I can do to make up for bogarting your massage session. You should’ve stayed, by the way, those girls know what they’re doing.”

“Oh I
bet
they do.” I gave him a knowing look. “I bet they were
all
over you.”

“Well, yeah. That’s how a massage works.”

I was a fan of sarcasm in general, but the sarcasm in
his
voice made my blood pressure rise. I always felt like he was laughing at me? It could be that I was always making a fool of myself one way or another whenever I ran into him. But still—I wasn’t going to let that lessen my hatred for him. I sensed he was trying to play me. He had game, that’s for sure. The way he spoke, the way he moved all sent clear signals—he was going for the hook up.

But the same thing that bothered me the first time I saw him in the airport bothered me now. Those eyes of his held something back. Something that he kept hidden behind a veil. No, more than a veil—a brick wall. They were the eyes of the type of person you could never really get close to, never quite know the heart of. I didn’t trust people like that. For better or for worse, I wore my heart on my sleeve. As much trouble as it got me into sometimes, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It made me feel true to myself.

“Thanks for the offer, Lord Byron, but I’d rather drink with a herd of nutria than with a schmuck like you.”

“Nutria?”

“They’re jungle rats.”

“I see.” That stupid amused look was back on his face. “You really know your jungle rodents.”

“Besides,” I huffed, ignoring his comment. The guy got me way too worked up. Why was it so easy for him to get under my skin? “I’m here with a date. A nice guy who isn’t s schmuck or a jungle rat.”

“A date, huh,” Byron said with an arch of his eyebrow. His expression changed. A moment ago, he seemed to be enjoying the conversation, but his face and tone abruptly turned cold. His smile became a smirk. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was judging me.

At this point, my attempt at acting cool and apathetic backfired. Saying that I was on a date had an immediate ill effect on my conscience. Maybe Byron wasn’t really judging me—I was judging myself. Although I’d been able to override the nagging feeling that what I was doing was wrong—that I wasn’t any better than Douglas for going out with another man when I knew in my heart I only wanted to be with him—the guilt came crashing down on me.

Not two days ago, I had dumped my boyfriend for being unfaithful to me, and here I was doing the exact same thing. Douglas and I may not officially be together, but he still had my heart. I wasn’t ready to move on. Not now, and not ever.