Same Time Next Week (Ch 43)
This is a long chapter and it is not safe for work!
Shelby lay on her back on the couch in the den, her legs hanging over the arm, staring at the dust on the overhead fan, listening to the TV drone on and on. Something was on... she wasn't paying attention to it. It was boring.
She was bored.
She had run out of things to do to distract her from the fact that it was Thursday and she wasn't with Jackson. This part of the day was normally spent trying to get things done so she could concentrate on him later–cleaning up, going shopping or to the salon if she needed to, getting a little ahead on her business class, which was turning out to be interesting.
Her shifts at Antigua were to get her back in the business, back in bartender mode. The classes, she hoped, would give her insight into opening her own bar, running her own show. The thought excited her, made her heart go pitter-patter. It was the first thing, besides Jackson, that she'd been excited about in a long time.
She had already read ahead in her course materials, though. Studied for the exam the next week. She knew the subject matter backward and forward. The house sparkled, even the garage was clean and organized and the lawn was clipped and the pool was clean. The last of her boxes had long since been unpacked, her media organized by genre and then alphabetized by title.
Shelby rolled her head toward the TV, trying to remember what was on, what she was watching. It must have gone off, because she'd never in her life seen That 70's Show. She let it distract her for a few minutes, laughing at the fashion and the humorous one-liners until it went off and something else came on. She reached for the remote and snapped it off. The house was silent. Too silent.
"I should go out," she thought. "Hang out somewhere. Have some drinks. Relax. Remember this feeling of being by myself, having my own life, doing my own thing."
It was not a bad idea. Not the thing she wanted to be doing, but not a bad idea.
Shelby hopped into the shower for a few minutes, psyching herself up for going out alone. Her body was conditioned, accustomed to a certain schedule. She felt a little off, like there were things she was supposed to be doing, but she wasn't. Maybe a trip out of the house would take her mind off of those things. And pass some time. For sure, she probably wouldn't sleep that night.
She tossed on some clothes, a t-shirt, some jeans, slip on sandals. She needed a jacket in case she ended up by the water, which was always a little cooler than being in the city. Her fingers brushed across something soft. She grabbed at it, pulling it out, a familiar scent woven into its fibers. One of Jackson's hoodies had somehow been mixed up with her laundry. She smiled at it and sniffed it, catching his scent. She pulled it on and zipped it up, rolling up the sleeves. It was way too big on her, but she felt warm and comforted by it.
She got into the car, pulled out of the garage and onto the road, headed toward Orlando, listening to the pop station on the radio. One of Rod's older songs was playing. She turned it up, singing along, smiling. She drove and drove, windows down, a breeze blowing through the car, music on. Past nightclubs and bars and watering holes.
Nothing sounded good.
Jackson would have a place in mind and she would meet him there, or they'd go together. He'd give her some history on the place, or talk about a memory he had of the first time he went there, or when one of his friends got drunk and did something stupid there, and that's why he liked or remembered it. They'd walk in, hand in hand, bold as anything despite his face being a familiar one, especially around Orlando. Sometimes people recognized him. Most of the time, people walked right by or gave a smile and a wave. He'd smile back, wave back, nod back and go on with life. So unassuming and not celebrity.
He was never too good for a dive bar or a six inch Subway sandwich. He ate a turkey and Swiss the same way he ate a Parmesan crusted sea bass. Shelby had no idea what living in LA was like, but it was puzzling to think that he would go back to being stalked. It seemed like things in Orlando moved at a much slower pace and people were way more laid back.
After dinner, they would hit up Dessert Lady or some other place where they served decadent and delicious food. Sometimes they would eat in, have coffee or wine and sit and talk and stare into each other's eyes. Putting off the evening on purpose. Dragging it out. Teasing each other.