The Loose Ends List(24)

“We never did anything to make her jealous.”

“She’s miserable with herself, and we’re not. That’s all it takes with Brit.” Janie motions to the bartender for another drink.

Somebody comes in through the side entrance. The room erupts in greetings. I assume it’s another regular, since they seem to greet everyone with this kind of enthusiasm. Then I spot him from the corner of my eye.

“Holy shit. Oh my God.” I duck between the bar stools and pretend I lost an earring.

“Are you even wearing earrings? What earring?” Janie is making it worse.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I dart around the bar to the utterly disgusting unisex bathroom and close the door. I need to breathe, but I can’t because I’m inside a shit tank. Why is Mystery Guy here? I look horrible. And after trudging through a foot of bat excrement, I smell like dirt and donkey.

I squint to look at myself in the credit-card-sized distorted mirror. I have a vision of Mom telling me I should always carry a lip color and a compact because you never know when you’ll need to look presentable. I should have listened to her.

Somebody pounds on the door.

“Maddie, what the hell? Are you having an irritable bowel syndrome attack?” Sloppy Janie yells at the top of her lungs.

I open the door a crack and yank her in. “Shut up. Get in here.” She squeezes in and pushes me against the moldy wall.

“What is your problem?” She blows her hot rum breath in my face.

“You know the guy who just walked in?”

“Yeah. His name is Enzo. I just met him.” Janie pushes me out of the way and squats to pee.

“Okay, well, he’s mine.”

“Fine, maniac. You can have dibs on random Jamaican bar guy.”

“Listen, he’s on the Wishwell.”

“No he’s not.” She washes her hands in the grubby sink and wipes them on my shirt.

“Yes he is. I saw him a few times. You need to pretend you’re not wasted and help me here.”

“Maddie, you have a blotchy rash all over your chest. Get ahold of yourself. It’s just a guy. Remember the thing we always say, ‘They’re just boys’?”

“I know. I have to get out of this shithole bathroom. I need air. Do you think I could fit through the window?”

“You’re acting like a loser girl. Come on.”

Janie flings open the door and yanks me out into the open.

I stand up straight and walk back to my seat as nonchalantly as I can. I take a sip of my warm ginger beer. You should have done something with your hair, the Mom voice says.

“Enzo, come meet my cousin Maddie.”

All of a sudden he’s standing in front of me.

“It’s you.” He smiles.

“Hi.” I smile back.

He tilts his head slightly to the right. His eyes are gray-green, with freakishly long lashes. He’s even more beautiful close up.

“So why weren’t you on the cave tour?” Janie says.

“Did Tits take you to see the bats? I haven’t done that in a long time,” he says.

“You’ve done the Wishwell before?” I say. After being blindsided by Paige, I can’t assume he’s not a patient. Maybe the first trip didn’t take.

“It’s a long, not very exciting story. Drinks?” He squeezes in next to me and flags down the bartender. He’s so close that his arm brushes against mine, and I can smell him, clean and soapy and slightly spicy. It’s intoxicating.

“Are you British?” Janie asks, studying his face as if his expression will give her the answer.

“Guess the accent is hard to hide. I grew up in England, well, half grew up in England.”

“I knew it. I’m really good with accents. What kind of name is Enzo, anyway?” She’s carrying the entire conversation.

“It’s Italian, short for Vincenzo. How about Maddie? Is that a nickname?” He’s looking at me again. Not Janie. Me.

“Yeah. It’s short for Madeline.”

The bartender comes over.

“What are you having?” He looks at me again.

“I’ll have rum and Coke,” Janie says.

“How about you, Maddie? Rum and Coke?” He eyes my ginger beer.

“Um. Whatever you’re having is good,” I say.

“Two Red Stripes.” He drops Jamaican money on the counter and leans toward me. Our hands are so close, if I move my finger the width of a straw tip, we’ll be touching.

I take a sip of beer. It tastes like rotten bread crust.

“I have to admit I’ve been calling you something else.” He smiles.

“Oh, yeah? What?”

“The Girl in the Purple Dress.” He remembers me from the elevator. I will not reveal I’ve been calling him Mystery Guy.

A loud song comes on. He leans even closer, and I feel his warm breath on my cheek. “So, how’s the Wishwell?”

“It’s growing on me,” I say. I shift in my seat. “I feel like somebody’s new cat. You know how they hide under the bed for a while, but then they’re good?” I don’t know why I just blurted that out. It was getting too intense, with his breath and his eyes.

He laughs. “I know what you mean. We’ve had a lot of house cats. They all do the same thing.”