Ashes and Wine

“Hey, baby. Let me buy you a drink or two.”

Typical male ‘introduction’ directed towards me on these not-so-typical Friday nights. Sophie convinced me that this one little club would be different from all the rest. Scratch that. She attempted to convince me, is what I meant. Deep down I know every single club or bar she has illegally dragged me to has, at least, a handful of disrespectful creeps lurking about for some easy, drunken points to earn towards they’re self-esteem. Or even just to make up for the sad, lonely love-life they had in high school. Well, that’s the way I look at it anyways. I don’t like to think they do this for any other kind of unmoral reason. Anyone else you might ask about these kinds of men would all say they are just in it for social status or some kind of kinky self-satisfaction. Yuck is correct, my friend. But, as much as I should hate to admit this, it does raise my self-esteem to know they come up to me more than any other girls I see in these places. When I told Sophie this sheabout had fit, cursing God about something like not gracing me with as good of eyes as I had looks. I honestly don’t know what she’s talking about. I’m no Jessica Alba or Camilla Belle, that’s for sure.

“No thanks. I don’t drink.” I gave him a small smile and turned my attention back to my ice water, swirling my straw around. The pounding music caused the water to ripple a tad in my glass, and that was really the only thing keeping my focus. I have always been too over-observant for my own good. Many people told me my eyes never stay still. The guy at my left cleared his throat. My attempt to try and make a point that I wanted him to leave apparently did not come off strongly as I wanted.

“Come on, babe. Just one little drink never did hurt no one.” High school dropout. Call it a stereotype, but I’ve learned by now that many guys who speak with slight grammar mistakes slipping in now and again are more likely to have ditched, dozed off, not cared, or all three; therefore, resulting in a dropout. Sighing, I turned towards him and tried again. “Honestly, I’m sure you are a really nice guy, but I’m taken. Thanks anyway.”

He… gurgled? I think it was supposed to be a laugh. Disgusting. He placed a hand on my shoulder, slowly inching it towards my breast. Classy, no? He doesn’t even know my first name and he’s trying to pull something. “He doesn’t seem to be too quick in comin’ back to see you.” All right, he asked for it. I held his gaze with my eyebrows raised and said the one thing that sent them all running. “I’m underage.” And like magic, he was off my shoulder and across the room in less than twenty seconds.

I’ve learned how to handle myself in these situations pretty well, I guess. Sophie did teach me a thing or two before taking me to the first of many clubs when I was 16. But I picked up a lot more just by watching other classier women reject men. I was even saved from this one guy by some woman, who looked a couple years older than Sophie did. She had acted like my mom scaring him right off. Afterwards she told me I shouldn’t have even been there. She even asked me a bunch of questions like, why I was there, how old I was, and if I had anything to drink yet. I was totally convinced she was my mom and felt like running off like the man did not long before. That was two years ago though. And even today I was still being dragged to clubs, occasionally bars, and some collage parties that Sophie wanted me to come to. I know what you’re thinking, why doesn’t she take someone her own age along? Well, Sophie is what you would call a party girl. Ever since she was old enough to legally drink, she has been hitting up the clubs. Don’t get me wrong, she knows when to stop, but once she gets going sometimes it’s next to impossible to get her to. Many of her friends end up leaving her there, but for me? That’s what I go for. I’m what you would call the designated driver. Normally the driver is all bummed because they can’t really drink, but the minute the bouncers see me I’m bombarded with ‘X’ stamps, so what does it matter? I mean don’t get me wrong, I do try to have a good time; it’s just I don’t want to put myself out there. Right now Sophie said she had to use the bathroom, so I’m waiting for her. When she comes back we’re leaving… if she comes back. God, I can’t wait to get this over with so I can go on vacation next week…

Wow. Awesome, she got distracted. I stood and walked over to where she was slurring/flirting. I don’t know why she does this. You’d think that at the age of 23 she would want to try to get a college degree, or start an internship somewhere. I guess she thinks just because her parents haven’t told her to leave the house yet that she can stay a kid longer than everyone else. Her brother, who’s my age, well he’s a different story. As for a little intro for you, he definitely has looks on his side, that’s undeniable. He has longer super curly hair that’s dark brown. And, he wears these frameless glasses that send over half the population at school over the edge. He’s got the whole sexy nerd thing down. Go ahead and laugh, but if you’ve seen him, you’d agree. Speaking of nerds, he is by no means cocky, but he’s smart and not afraid to show it. That’s probably what I admire most about my best friend Nick.

I finally got Sophie pulled away from the guy who was hitting on me earlier. Yes, he ran when he saw me, and Sophie pitched a fit saying I was no fun as I dragged her to the car. At last I pulled up to her parent’s house and I looked over at a knocked-out Sophie. Sighing I got out of the car, quietly shutting the door behind me, and walked up the stone steps that led to the double doors. They hid the one man I needed most right now. Before I even had the key fished out of my clutch, he walked out the right door and pulled me into a hug, smelling of Polo Black and Herbal Essence. I laughed before asking him, “Did you use my shampoo?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “How was it?”

Laughing again I shook my head. “Oh, as awesome as usual. Come on, let’s go get Soph.”

As we were walking to the car he cleared his throat. “No sweatpants this time?” I feigned glare and let a pout slip on my lips.

“You know that was one time only. And you also know I was dragged from my house unwillingly.” He chuckled and threw an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry. Calm down. You look very nice tonight.”

“Thank you.” I opened the car door, and Nick unbuckled Sophie. He picked her up then started walking up the path. I shut the door and ran ahead of him to push open the front door. “Must have been quite a night.”

I closed the door behind us before answering, “Why do you say that?” I watched him set her gently on the couch before he replied. “She’s heavier than usual. It was like dead weight. And you look exhausted.”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you expect? I was out with your sister.”

“This,” he said nodding, “is true.” We simultaneously glanced at her before heading up to his room. I sat on his bed in my dress while he dug through his drawers for something for me to wear that night. I practically live there on weekends, so Nick is nice enough to give me some clothes instead of letting me go through the trouble to steal them. He threw me some basketball shorts and a tee. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. For bringing her back that is, because you know I don’t entirely love that you went with her in the first place.”

I just pursed my lips and let that one slide. He always tries to get me to stop going with her, but I just cannot do that. After standing up I walked over to him and turned around, lifting my curled brown hair. He reached up and unzipped my dress to where I could reach it. Smiling I turned around and kissed his cheek before heading for the bathroom to change.