She rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, let that go, already. He’s fromClayton—he’s not John Gotti.”
I frown at her. “Was John Gotti a drug dealer? I don’t think he was.”
“Oh shut up with your facts. You know what I mean.” She pokes me in the chest. “Let’s get back to the important stuff—namely Jamie, he of the starched and pressed chinos, and how you’re into him, and he’s coming out of the bathroom right now.”
“Cora—”
She backs away, points at me. “Go with it!”
“I’m goinghome!”
“Yeah, you are…in themorning!” she says, turning and vanishing into the crowd on the dance floor.
“Cora! I’m not—” and then I cut myself off because Jamie is headed this way, shaking his hands.
“Those hand dryers are the single least effective thing on the planet, I think,” he says by way of greeting.
“I know, right? I think Vinnie has a Go-Fund Me to have them replaced with those fancy Dyson air blade things.”
“I’d fund that,” he says. And then, after a long, significant look, he nods at the exit. “Want to get out of here? I could use a walk and some fresh air.”
“Sounds good,” I hear myself say.
Because it does sound good to get out of the close, humid air of the bar, away from the noise and the crowd. It would be nice to spend time with Jamie, and enjoy some quiet conversation.
He heads for the front door, but I catch his hand. “Back door,” I tell him, leading him that way. “No point fighting through the crowd.”
I wave at Matty as we pass him. “See ya later, Matty,” I sing-song.
He just juts his chin at me with half a glance. “See ya, Elyse. You’re walking home, right?”
“Well, I’m not driving anywhere, that’s for sure,” I promise him. “I don’t even have my car here.”
“Good.” Matty is fifteen years younger than Al but just as big; he’s not much friendlier than Al if you don’t know him, but to us locals, he’s a teddy bear with a heart of gold. Matty and I went to school together all our lives, but he never left like I did. He’s always making sure nobody drives home after too many drinks, and has been known to deliver people’s cars to them after they walked home.
“Keep an eye on Cora for me, will you?” I ask.
He snorts. “Yeah, okay. Let me just go right ahead and stop her from doing crazy shit.”
I laugh. “Just don’t let her hurt herself, or do anything too stupid.”
“I got you.” His eyes go to Jamie, and then back to me. “You’re good?” His voice is quiet, and he seems somehow more threatening when he uses his quiet voice; I’d fear for Jamie, if I said no.
I smile at him. “I’m great. Thanks, Matty.”
He just nods, and goes back to the video game on his phone. “See ya ’round.”
The alley behind Vinnie’s is bordered by a chain-link fence, beyond which are the backyards of the houses of Oak Junction. The road here is paved in some sections, original cobblestone in others. A single whitish-yellow streetlamp hangs from a power line overhead, casting a broad shadow over the alley beyond the pool of light. The music and chatter from Vinnie’s are loud, even out here, and my ears ring in the relative quiet.
A dog barks in the distance, and another answers.
As if on some unspoken cue, Jamie and I begin walking, turning left onto Carlisle and heading north. We are quiet for a minute, and then he asks me about my favorite music, and that leads to a story from Jamie about seeing Dave Matthews Band’s concert at The Gorge in 2002, days after his twenty-first birthday, which was part of a road trip a few friends had surprised him with. We talk about all sorts of things as we amble slowly up Main Street, leaving downtown behind. His hand is in mine—our fingers are twined together, and it seems like the most right and perfect thing ever.
My head is fuzzy, and I’m a little tipsy still, but I’m lucid enough to absorb every moment of this—Jamie’s low, quiet, smooth, pleasant voice relating a funny story, his hand in mine, the sense of anticipation just from being with him. I watch him as he talks—he uses his left hand to gesture, not letting go of mine with his right. He’s animated, and an amazing storyteller. His features are even, symmetrical, and handsome. His jawline is strong, his hair no longer quite as neatly combed as it was when I first saw him, and he’s all the sexier for it. The shadow of stubble on his jaw makes me weak in the knees, and when his eyes cut to mine, I feel all melty.
“Is there somewhere around here we can get a cup of coffee?” Jamie asks.
I laugh. “At this time of day? Yeah…no.”
