Reaching quickly for the toilet paper, I clean up and put my bottoms back in place. I glance again at my reflection to make sure my clothes and hair are straight. My makeup is smudged, and my lipstick is gone. No getting around that.
I’m just at the door, when I pause and see a bottle of cologne sitting on the counter. Picking it up, I give it a sniff. Fresh citrus. It smells just like him. I spray it all over my shirt before heading out the door.
The bedroom is empty, but I hear noises in the kitchen. Looking all around, I spot my purse on a chair and grab my phone out, quickly punching up the Lyft app and scheduling a ride home. The good thing about being downtown is cars are swarming all around my location like ants. I feel the buzz and look down to see “Javier” will be here in a black Cadillac in two minutes.
Patton is at the bar, loading the chicken into a bag with hot sauce. An unlit cigarette is in his fingers.
“Well, thanks again.” My voice is high, chipper. “I’m going to head on down. My ride is almost here.”
Dark eyes meet mine, only this time they’re surprised. “You’re leaving now?”
“I ordered a Lyft.” I hold up my phone and do a little wave. “I guess I’ll see you in the office on Tuesday.”
“Raquel, wait.” He stops what he’s doing and starts to circle the bar, but I’m backing toward the door, praying I don’t trip over anything. “You didn’t eat.”
“No, really, it’s better this way. No hard feelings. Scratching an itch or whatnot.”
The door hits my back, and I stop, feeling around behind me for the handle. He stops walking toward me, and now he’s really frowning. I think he’s mad.
“Scratching an itch.” He repeats the words after me, albeit slower.
My fingers curl around the handle. “Have a nice night.”
I’m out the door, closing it behind me and pressing the elevator button repeatedly praying he doesn’t follow me out.
Sweet Jesus, help me. I’ll never be able to say no if he comes out and tells me to stay. My eyes are squeezed shut,
and my stomach is tight and cringing until the bell finally dings. The doors slide open, and I jump inside, hitting the lobby button and the doors closed button repeatedly.
My breath catches when I see his door start to open, but thank God, the elevator closes before he even makes it out. I slump against the wall clutching my hand over my face.
“Do you know what time it is?” My sister’s voice is sleepy when she answers, and I quickly look at the clock.
“It’s nine. Are you already in bed at nine?”
“First, it’s ten here. Second, it’s a holiday weekend, so it’s busy as fuck. We open early and work straight through.”
I wince realizing she’s right. Labor Day at the beach is bananas. “I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to someone who loved me.”
She lets out a loud groan, and I hear her flopping around in the bed. “What is it?”
Oh God, can I even say it out loud? To Renée, who cautioned me repeatedly about him?
“Rocky.” Her voice is impatient. “I’m tired. Either tell me what’s going on or let me go back to sleep.”
“I slept with Patton.” The words blurt out fast. “Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I’m sorry. I think I’m still asleep. It sounded like you said you slept with Patton.”
“I know. I know! I know I know I know. You told me not to fall for him, and I totally fell for him. Oh, God, Renée. What am I going to do?”
She’s unexpectedly calm. “What happened?”
I quickly recount the day at the lake, the way he rescued me from the wave runner, then Sandra setting me up at South Street today. “You told me to make friends with Sandra.”
“I also told you Patton Fletcher is the devil. Why did you go back to his apartment?”
“He was going to make me hot chicken.”