LEAH
My Uber parked along the curb where Fleet and Mackinac Street intersected. I thanked the polite but silent driver and slipped out of the car.
The little sedan zipped back into traffic as I straightened my dress with a little huff.
Peering up at the neon sign, I frowned.
The sign read Hawkin's Bar + Club in large, red neon letters.
Weird. This was not the name of the place Isabelle had mentioned she'd meet me.
I pulled out my phone to compare the address she sent me and the drop-off location of the rideshare. Yeah, this was definitely the right address.
What the hell are you getting me into, Isabelle? I cursed her in my mind.
I dialed her number, rolling my eyes.
She answered immediately. "Leah!" she said cheerily. "Are you there?"
"I'm somewhere," I grumbled. "My Uber took me to the address you sent but there's a different name on the building. I thought we were going to that new speakeasy place?"
"Yeah . . . about that."
A slightly nauseous feeling crept into my stomach. Was she about to ditch me?
"Isabelle," I hissed.
I better not have left the sweet comfort of my sweatpants just to get dumped by my best friend.
"Just hear me out!" she said quickly. "My sister set me up with this blind date arranged tonight, but I had this last-minute client book an appointment tonight and it was an emergency and she's one of my All-Stars so I couldn't turn her down—"
"Jesus, Isabelle, take a breath." I huffed.
"Sorry, I just don't want you to be mad at me."
Glaring up at the neon sign, I placed my free hand on my hip. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Are you telling me I am here to go on your blind date?" I said.
She hesitated before meekly admitting, "Yes?"
"Oh, my god. You are so fucking fired."
"You can't fire your best friend."
"Yes! Yes, I can! Isabelle, no." I groaned. "I can't go on a date with some rando that wasn't even meant for me. I can't pretend to be you! You're tall and gorgeous and very brunette."
"Please, Loca! I need you. My sister will be pissed if I don't do just this one thing for her. You know she's trying to get her matchmaking business launched."
After several deep breaths, I nodded to myself.
Isabelle did plenty of favors for me in the past, some of which were worse than this.
I recalled an especially vivid and haunting memory of her scrubbing my vomit out of the carpet fibers of Danny's condo. He threw a party for his fancy investor friends and he kept begging me to take shots with them. After the last one, I was too sick to even make it to the bathroom.
When Danny found me crumpled on the bedroom floor, the remnants of my tumultuous stomach, he chewed me out.
'Do you have any idea how expensive this fucking carpet is? Probably more than you'll ever know. Get it out before I lose my shit.'
Isabelle came in and helped me clean up. Since I could barely hold myself upright, she scrubbed my sickness from the precious carpet.
Okay, fine. I owe her.
"Alright," I muttered. Touching a hand to my curled hair, I nodded. "I will handle this . . . but I expect a bottle of wine after this."
"Hell yeah! Thank you so much, dude."
I stared at the bar's tinted windows as a seed of dread bloomed in my chest.
"So, what's this guy's name?"
"Oh, right. He's, uh, Tom? Yeah, that's it. We were supposed to meet at the end of the bar. He's dressed in a red shirt."
"Red? Wait, is that why you told me to wear the red dress?"
Her nervous chuckle scratched through the line. "I mean, it really does look stunning on you."
I squeezed my eyes shut to suppress the heated irritation I felt toward her right now.
"Look, I'm sorry, Leah. I just couldn't tell her no, and you're the only friend I have who would do this."
"I think Ryan would have truly been delighted to assist."
"Funny. But seriously, I appreciate you. Now, I have to get back to my client before I lose my tip."
Shaking my head, I sighed. "One more thing."
"Mhm?"
"Was Sebastian really okay with you doing this blind date?"
"We're off again," she said casually. "He was an asshole to me last weekend when we visited his parents. I called him out on his shit and he stormed out."
"He's always an asshole when you visit them," I reminded her. "I thought you were going to just tough it out?"
"Yeah, that sounds as depressing as I felt." Isabelle sighed. "I made the mistake of mentioning it to my sister, and she immediately took advantage of me."
"Sounds like someone else I know," I muttered.
"Hey! Who knows? You might like ole Tom."
"We are wearing coordinated colors. I highly doubt it."
"There's nothing wrong with red, Leah. It's a very masculine color."
I rolled my eyes as I entered the bar.
Dim lighting from wall sconces and modernistic light fixtures draped a warm haze around the spacious club. The high-top tables and black leather booths scattered around the room all faced the center stage where a live jazz band played.
In the back of the club, a bartop ran the length of the room with stools and numerous rows of liquor bottles. Three bartenders darted about behind the bar, all wearing black vests and chic hairstyles.
This place was quite upscale and elegant.
Isabelle's voice rose in my ear. "Are you still there?"
"Unfortunately, yes," I grumbled. "This place is nice."
"Oh, good. My sister picked it."
"Well, she's at least got good taste in that regard."
I couldn't believe I was about to go on Isabelle's blind date. Who does that?
"Keep an open mind," she said. "Maybe this was meant to happen and you're about to meet your soulmate."
"You're full of jokes tonight."
"I live to entertain, my dear! Okay, I got to go."
In one last effort to delay my fate, I said, "You know, I could be on a hot date with a doctor right now."
"Wait, seriously? When the fuck did you meet a doctor?"
"Last weekend when I busted my ass."
"Oh. So your doctor was hot? Lucky bitch!"
My lip curled. "Yeah, don't get any ideas. I'm inside now. Gotta find Tom Red Shirt."
"Have fun, Loca!"
"Only Ryan gets to use that!"
The line clicked off.
Slipping my phone back into my clutch, I sucked in a deep breath and started for the bar. My eyes glanced over the tables as I walked.
The club was about half-occupied. Everyone was dressed fashionably and upper class.
I fidgeted with my scarlet midi dress, hoping I didn't look too out of place here. I hated nothing more than unwanted attention.
As I neared the bar, I forced myself to look for the shirt that matched my dress.
A dark red collared shirt filled the very last bar stool. My eyes wandered over the unfamiliar figure from behind.
I almost instantly noticed a balding spot in the middle of his head. His shoulders were also slightly hunched and he wore a kind of leather shoe I'd never seen before.
Is this a sugar daddy kind of thing? I wondered, a bit curious.
On the one hand, it was probably to this guy's benefit that I was here instead of Isabelle. She was very picky about the men she dated or slept with. She would've already tucked her tail and ran if she was here now.
Lifting my chin, I approached his stool.
An outburst of deep laughter drew my attention to a passing booth. Four men sat around the circular table with drinks, a low-hanging light casting them all in a golden glow.
The sight of a certain puff of gelled brown hair and thick muscles stopped me dead in my tracks.
What the hell is he doing here? I thought.
A hot flash engulfed me as I dropped into panic mode. This could not be happening. Jarrod could not be here. Of all places.
My life is one, giant joke.
Just as I was ready to turn and scamper out of the club, a head turned in my periphery. I turned on instinct to acknowledge the smile directed at me.
"Isabelle?" he asked.
Fuck.
Swallowing hard, I stole one last glance at the booth.
Jarrod hadn't noticed me. Maybe I could keep my back to them and he'd never know. After all, he'd only seen me twice.
"That's me," I said, fixing my eyes on the stranger's red shirt. "Tom, right?"
He didn't bother to conceal the way his predatory eyes slid over my body. I cringed internally.
"You look a little different than they said you would."
Arching a brow, I slid onto the barstool beside Tom. "I thought this was a blind date."
"Well, I didn't have a picture. But I was very specific," he told me. Shrugging, he took a sip from a glass of white wine. "I have a type, you see."
This was already going so swimmingly.
"Doesn't everyone?" I said, deciding to play along.
I was at least entitled to a drink after this shit show. So, I'd give him the benefit of the doubt for as long as it took me to chug a vodka cranberry.
"Leggy brunettes," he said. He turned completely on the stool and tipped his glass toward the band. "They're good, aren't they?"
I blinked at him for longer than socially acceptable and then turned to wave at a bartender.
One of them came right over with a smile. "What'll it be?" she asked.
"I'd like a vodka cranberry, light on the ice. Please."
"Right away, Miss."
Tom continued looking at the band. I wondered if I should just forget the damn drink and leave. This was a huge waste of time.
I didn't want to make this effort and humiliation for nothing, though. If nothing else, I would get a damn drink.
Without tearing his eyes from the band, he leaned over to whisper close to my face. I subtly leaned away from his Pinot Grigio breath.
"You know," he said, "you should stay away from hard liquor. It's bad on the heart and makes you fat."
"That's very unfortunate," I told him. "I drink liquor all day, every day."
He chuckled and pulled away again.
I opened my clutch to pull out my phone. Isabelle was going to get so much hell for this.
LEAH: U SUCK. This guy is the worst
"So, what do you do for a living?" Tom asked.
I tried to imagine what Isabelle would say in this position.
"I do hair during the day. At night, I host seances in my house." Shrugging, I added, "I'm a medium."
His eyes widened.
The bartender placed my cocktail on the counter and I eagerly wrapped my palms around the cold, dripping glass.
Tom cleared his throat. "That must be very lucrative," he said.
"So lucrative. You wouldn't even believe me."
Did he miss the sarcasm jading every word, or was he just obtuse?
I looked over to see Tom's facial expression but instead locked eyes with a pair of reddish-brown ones.
Jarrod and I gaped at each other for a second. My face must have shown utter horror because he quirked a questioning brow.
Realizing this might be my chance, I straightened in my seat and mouthed, 'Help me.' His face scrunched in concern but the bartender interrupted us with his drink order.
Tom then faced me again. "So, do you go by Isabelle or can I call you Izzy?" he asked.
I rolled my lips and withheld a laugh. Isabelle most certainly would've left by now.
"Funny seeing you here, Isabelle."
My head snapped to the side. Jarrod's dazzling smile was mischievous.
"I thought Thursday nights were when you sacrificed babies?" he asked, rather loud for club conversation.
A couple down the bar glanced in our direction. I lifted my cocktail glass to conceal the silent laughter in my mouth and toasted him.
"You're right. Thursdays are for sacrificing babies," I acquiesced. "I should be drinking blood instead of vodka right now. I'll have to repent when I get home."
Tom looked between us in horror. He shook his head and stood up from the stool.
"I don't know what the hell is going on," he said, "but I want no part of it. Good day."
Smiling with extra saccharine, I waggled my fingertips after his back. Jarrod took advantage of the newly vacant stool and slid in beside me.
"What the hell did I just partake in?" He chuckled.
"If you want the full story, I'm going to need another vodka."
The corner of his mouth twitched up. "As long as you don't decide to take a late-night shower."
My lips puckered at the reminder. "Don't worry, Doc. I haven't forgotten my promise."
"And I haven't forgotten to text you. Promise."
"I was getting suspicious, not gonna lie." Smiling a little, I brought the glass to my lips.
"Ah, ye of little faith! I've been very busy. I hope you believe me when I say I've thought about you every single day."
"You don't have to flatter me," I told him.
"I'm not trying to." Then he grimaced. "Okay, I am trying to flatter you, but I have honestly thought about you every day. Probably more than I should."
I pinched my mouth shut to keep it from flashing him a traitorous smile. I couldn't deny the relief of knowing I wasn't the only one.
Finishing off my drink, I nodded my head towards the booth he'd come from. "Boys' night?"
He followed my gaze. "Business meeting. Those are the other physicians I work with. We have our monthly meetings here," he explained.
"What a fun place for that," I said.
Smiling, I looked down at my lap and plucked at where my dress clung to my waist. My thoughts got panicky as I feared I looked like a big red whale perched up on this bar tool.
"It must be fate that our paths keep crossing, Miss Harris."
I glanced over at Jarrod and he smirked, sipping on his light wheat beer.
"I wish fate had better timing," I said.
He chuckled. "Please explain who I just helped you chase off."
"I'd hate to take away from your business meeting."
"By all means," he said, staring down at my lips, "take me away. Far, far away."
Grinning, I rolled my eyes and nudged him in the side. He made smiling effortless, infectious even.
"Seriously, though," he prodded. "Is there a throng of men in this city who believe your name is Isabelle?"
I choked out a laugh and turned away to hide my red face. "No! Oh my god, this is so embarrassing."
When he said nothing, I forced myself to look at him again. He was leaning back on his stool with a cool smile.
"I'm waiting, Miss Harris."
I sighed, though a small smile clung to the corner of my lips. "I was tricked into going on a blind date for my friend Isabelle."
"Wow, okay. A lot to unpack there." He blinked but laughed a little. "Tricked, how, exactly?"
Shaking my head, I focused my gaze on the band. I was mortified.
"Isabelle was set up by her sister. She ended up scheduling a last-minute appointment and I guess it was too late to call off the date." I shared a mortified smile with him. "So told me we were having a girls' night and invited me here. By the time I got here and she explained, I figured I might as well."
"I take it he wasn't Prince Charming?" Jarrod teased.
"I don't think I've ever been directly told I wasn't someone's type. On a date, no less."
His amusement faltered. "He said that? What a jackass."
"Well, when you meet Isabelle, you'll understand. If you were expecting her, but met me instead . . . probably be a little lost."
"That doesn't give him the right to be rude to you," he said, brows knitting together.
I nodded. "True. Thanks again for your rescue, by the way."
Although Jarrod relaxed, some of the tension lingered in his coiled muscles.
"I have to admit," he told me, "the witchy seance thing had me intrigued."
I laughed. "I'm glad Tom didn't see it that way."
"Me too," he admitted. His eyes glittered like raw amber under the full sun. "I kind of wished I gave him a harder time, though."
"No, it's okay," I said, smiling at my lap again. "I was tired of the facade. Role play just isn't for me, I guess."
Realizing what I said, I blushed down to my toes. I risked a quick peek at Jarrod's face and caught him grinning madly.
For a moment, neither of us said a word. Then he shifted closer to me, our elbows brushing. His eyes were so gorgeous and bright with color. I wanted to stare into them all night and tomorrow, too.
"I have a proposition," he said. "Since you look so stunning, we shouldn't waste the night. Let me finish my meeting and we can get that coffee now."
My brows lifted in a blend of delight and surprise. "Yeah? I'd hate to make you feel rushed or anything."
"Not at all," he assured me. "We won't be much longer. Don't let anyone else take my seat, okay?"
"You got it." I bit my curled lip.
He strode back to the booth and slid one of the pints across the table to another guy. One of them glanced my way. I smiled and faced forward.
What started as such a weird, annoying blind date turned into the best time I'd had in ages.