The Falling Kind (4 page)

              “I will,” I groaned as we headed back to the clinic for Sam to pick up her car.

              “Do you want a ride home?”

              “No, I should walk. I could probably use the exercise,” I replied nonchalantly. I wasn’t really out of shape by any means, I had a pretty slender five-foot-seven frame. But long days at the clinic and slow afternoons at the beach didn’t exactly do much for my cardio intake.

              “Fine. See you tomorrow night after you get off work. I’ll grab Brandt and we’ll be over to your place by seven forty-five?” she said with a raised brow.

              “Sounds good,” I replied, waving to her as she pulled out of the lot. I thought about what she said on my walk home. Even if I did see a guy I was interested in, was I finally ready for that? Not that I had my sights on any type of band fling or something flighty like that, it wasn’t my style. But clearly I wasn’t going to meet anyone with something more substantial going on at a dive bar in West Cove. That’s where dreams went to die.

              I entered my condo and dropped my stuff, feeling more exhausted than I should for seven-thirty on a Monday. I fed all of the animals, gave them all some attention, then headed up to my bedroom for a good night’s sleep. Instead of passing out right away though, my mind wandered.

              There was honestly a time when I thought I would
never
be ready to date after Ian. After everything that had happened, for awhile I thought I was too love-stricken to move on. I thought giving my heart away like that to someone could only happen once in a lifetime. I figured after loving someone like that, it wasn’t possible to ever feel that way again.

              Shortly after that period of time though, I felt the opposite. Not love-stricken about it – but guilt-stricken.

              Because deep down, I knew it was all my fault.

I was solely responsible for Ian’s death.

CHAPTER 4

              After a restless sleep, I awoke to a cloudy morning and a very hungry, squealing pig. I reluctantly got up, fed Dexter his breakfast, cleaned up the tortoise tank and got ready for work.

              My shift at the clinic from eight to five flew by. All of the appointments were pretty routine. I missed having Sam there on Tuesdays, but she always had class on Tuesdays and Thursdays so she didn’t work on those days. Eva was at least growing on me. She’d only been working at the clinic for about eight months. She was a little bit older, in her late thirties, and she was unmarried. Aside from her soap opera obsession, she loved parakeets more than any other bird lover I’d ever met. We didn’t necessarily have a lot in common, but she had a great sense of humor and was fun to be around.

              “So, any details for me on the hunk from the other night?” she questioned as I sorted through some charts towards the end of my shift. “Possibly a date tonight?”

              “Nope, no juicy details for you,” I said wearily. These people see me leave one time with a guy and they can’t let it go. “I’m headed out tonight with Sam for a concert. It’s at some dive bar in West Cove though, so if I don’t show up for work tomorrow, somebody needs to come look for my body.”

              “Those West Cove boys would enjoy doing something to your body, all right,” she said with animated eyebrows. “You watch out tonight. See, that’s why you need that hunk of a man, to take care of you in a place like that.”

              “Brandt is going with us, we’ll be fine,” I stated, setting down the charts and grabbing for my purse.

              “That skinny little friend of yours that comes in here for lunch sometimes? He’s going to save you?” she asked with a laugh.

              “I’m not the one who will need saving. Sam is going nuts for some guy in a crappy band. Who knows how the night will end,” I said, only half sarcastically. Sam didn’t always have the best taste when it came to dating material. They were always cute, but sometimes had little else to offer.

              I said my goodbyes and made the short walk back to my condo. I took a quick shower and dried my long hair, opting to keep it down for the night. I tried to pick out something dive-bar-concert-worthy, but I had no clue what this place was really like. Sam and Brandt rang my doorbell just a few minutes before eight.

              “You’re wearing pants?” Sam asked me with a scrunched up face as I answered the door. I guessed by her tight black dress that she expected me in something different.

              “I don’t know, I’m just trying stuff on,” I said in a frustrated tone, throwing up my hands. “I don’t usually frequent seedy bars on the wrong side of town. I feel like I’m suppose to wear leather or metal or something.”

              “You’re not a biker chick for heaven’s sake,” Sam said, leading me back upstairs to my closet. Brandt just shrugged at me in his khaki pants and light green button down shirt as we left him in the living room. “We’re going to flirt with hot guys in a band,” she said, rummaging through my hangers. “You need something tighter… Shorter.”

              “You’re the one flirting with band guys,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll be hanging out with Brandt in the back corner of the bar trying not to get mugged. I’ve never heard anything good about the bars in West Cove, other than they’re fabulous places to score cheap heroin.”

              “That’s why Brandt is with us, for security so no one takes advantage of us,” Sam further explained, holding out a short navy and white striped sundress. “This doesn’t look all that daring, but it’s the shortest thing you’ve got. You’re my wingman. Please wear this instead of the pants?” she pled. Her giant hazel eyes begged.

              “Whatever,” I said, shooing her out. “Give me two minutes.” I heard her tall heels thump down the stairs as I slid the strapless dress over my head. It was at least longer than the dress Sam had on, but not by much.

              I only had on light makeup, versus the black eyeliner and smoky eyes Sam had, but I felt comfortable. After all, I was just going as the supportive friend, so I didn’t want to overdo it. The least amount of attention I could bring to myself, the better. I grabbed a small clutch purse with my ID and very little cash and ran downstairs to head out. Brandt was currently on the floor, scratching Dexter’s tummy, while Sam was fixing her makeup in my hallway mirror.

              “This pig is amazing,” Brandt said, playing with his snout. “How much longer do you have him?”

              “Only until Friday,” I said sadly. “Nikki found a home for him.”

              “Maybe someday you’ll focus less on real pigs and you’ll find yourself a human one instead,” Sam teased.

            
 “
A girl can dream,” I said with a laugh. “Dexter, here,” I insisted, pointing to the baby gate area he stayed in with a litter box while I was away. He followed my command and stepped right in. “This one is at least listening to me,” I stated with a smirk. “I’d rather have a pig.”

              I shut off a few lights and we headed out for the night, climbing into Brandt’s yellow Hummer.

              “Does this band play anywhere other than West Cove bars?” he asked Sam as he drove us towards the locale. “I’m afraid we’re all going to end up on the news tomorrow. Look at this place.”

              I gazed out my window, taking in the liquor stores with barred windows. There was a lady on the other side of the street looking disheveled while pushing around an empty shopping cart. There was good reason why we stayed around downtown Mountain Ridge. This definitely wasn’t our scene.

              “According to their website, their next three gigs are at Local Joes, so this is our only option,” Sam sighed. “But I promise you Syd, when you see this guy it will all make sense. I would do the same for you.”

              “I know you would,” I replied earnestly. Sam was one of the best people I knew, so of course I didn’t mind joining her for this adventure. She would do it for me without hesitation.

              “What’s his name?” Brandt asked, following his GPS instructions down an unlit side street.

              “Here we go,” I teased. “It’s either Luke or Ethan or Barry.”

              “Or Tyler,” Sam interjected. “I know, it’s embarrassing. But I love you both for being here with me,” she said sincerely. “This is it.” She pointed to a small blue building. There was a jankity sign out front that read
Local Joe’s
. The wood siding was peeling off and two of the parking lot lights appeared to be burnt out.
Lovely.

              “There are a decent amount of cars here for a Tuesday night,” Brandt said, pulling into one of the few vacant spots left.

              “May we all live not to regret this,” I teased as we climbed out of the SUV. A few heads turned our way in the parking lot. Turns out we weren’t blending in as well as we’d hoped, but I blamed Brandt’s loud attention seeking car for that.

              Brandt held out some bills to the bouncer checking IDs, covering our five dollar entrance fee. The place inside was bigger than I expected. There was a long bar area with people lining up for drinks, and a few tables set up towards the back of the room with chairs. There was a decent-sized stage full of instruments with a somewhat sad homemade drop cloth hung up baring the words
Soul Punch
. I snickered again at the name. It was so dumb.

              “The usuals?” Brandt asked towards Sam and I, pointing to the bar. We both nodded. Sam was scouring the room for any sign of her band target. Within a minute, the room went completely dark.

              “Dammit, we really are going to be murdered here,” I muttered, grabbing onto Sam’s arm in the dark. Seconds later a small spotlight turned on, illuminating the stage.

              “That scared the piss out of me,” Brandt said, walking up behind us. “I spilled Sam’s cranberry vodka all over myself.” Brandt looked annoyed as he handed us our drinks. He wiped his clothes down with a bar napkin.

              A loud voice came over the speakers, introducing the band. Immediately following that were drums so loud I could barely hear the vocals. Sam grabbed my arm, pointing to the guitarist. He had on dark jeans and a grey tank top, and his brown messy hair looked chaotic. He was so into the music though, it was as if he didn’t even realize how many people were looking at him.

              “He’s cute,” I shouted to Sam over the music. She stared at him all googly-eyed, sipping on her cranberry vodka.

              “Please come with me to talk to him after the show,” she pled.

              “I can’t imagine risking my life here to leave empty-handed,” I agreed. I never would’ve approached a guy for myself, but it was easy for me to do for a friend. There was no pressure.

              I glanced around the room. It was a diverse crowd, that was for sure. There were a lot of young girls who looked underage. They were wearing too much makeup, probably in order to help them pass with their fake IDs. There were also groups of guys, most of them full of piercings and tattoos, and some couples awkwardly trying to dance to the hard rock music. I definitely didn’t see anyone else like us around.

              The band played four or five more songs in a row. Sam was right, the music wasn’t great, but it was tolerable. The guitarist guy she was ogling looked really into it, but a couple of the other guys in the band looked like they were really overdoing it. The band finally announced a brief intermission and jumped off the stage where they headed to the bar for some shots.

              “Do you want to talk to him now?” I asked Sam, trying to read the expression on her face.

              “I can’t, I’m too nervous,” she said excitedly. “Can we just wait until after the show?”

              “That’s fine,” I nodded, finishing up my drink. Sam’s glass was also already empty.

              “Some giant security guy is staring at you, Syd. He looks questionable. I swear he is wearing what appears to be a shirt from the Baby Gap,” Brandt said, gesturing towards the bar area. “He’s huge. He’s been staring at you for at least five minutes.”

              I narrowed my eyes towards the bar area, trying to see who he was talking about. Was that…
Cole
?

              The guy across the room nodded as soon as I made eye contact with him, confirming I was right. “Oh my gosh, I know him. That’s the guy from the clinic the other night,” I explained to Sam. “Give me a minute.”

              I walked towards Cole and he walked towards me, meeting each other right in between the bar area and the main room.

              “How did you know I would be here?” he asked with a smirk and a raised brow. “I left you my number, you could’ve just called.”

              “I was just about to ask if you’re following me,” I countered. “What are you doing here?” He couldn’t have possibly known I would be in this bar tonight.

              “Tyler, the bassist, is a buddy of mine. We come to all his shows,” he replied, staring at me curiously. “You really didn’t know I was here? Are you telling me this is a completely random encounter? Like a cute story you could tell your friends about how we met?” he asked, referencing our conversation from the other night. He smirked at me, waiting for my reply.

              “I guess it is,” I stated, mildly amused. It was awfully coincidental to run into him again.

              “So then we can start over, like we don’t know each other then,” he said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “I can ask you out now like you’ve never turned me down, right?” His eyes lit up as he said it. “I’m Cole Mason, nice to meet you in this random, yet insanely romantic spot. I love unexpected meetings like this,” he teased.

              I laughed. “I’m Sydney Summers, pleasure to meet you. What did you do to your arm there?” I asked, playing his game. “That looks like quite an injury.”

 
            
 “
Yeah, it’s nothing really. I think I was just rescuing a helpless kitten from a burning tree. Something like that. I’m always doing things like that, saving animals and stuff. I’m really into that kind of thing.”

              I laughed again, amused by his sense of humor.

              “Does this mean you’ll go get tacos with me now? It’s like the universe is practically forcing us together, right?” he said playfully. “It doesn’t have to be a date, I didn’t mean to add any pressure to it like that. It can be more like a ‘thanks for fixing my arm so I don’t get sepsis’ kind of dinner. We can sit around talking about the awesome soul-crushing melodies of Soul Punch.”

              I let out a slight giggle. The more I heard the band name, the more it was growing on me in a funny, ironic way. The stupidity of it somehow brought me joy every time someone said it, simply because it was
that
bad. I thought back to my conversation with Sam yesterday, when she begged me to just give some guy a chance.
Any
guy. I promised her I would, more in an effort to get her off my back, but this seemed like a better idea than finding another guy in the crowd to try it out on.

              “I would love to go eat tacos with you Cole Mason,” I replied. He smiled at me and it was infectious.