Words: 1.8k. Notes: Likely part one of a short series. Feedback appreciated.
Billy could tell that it was an afterthought, being invited out for post-work drinks by his co-workers as they were pulling on their coats and leaving the office. He tried to blend in, but something about him made him an outlier. He couldn’t put his finger on it despite the copious amount of time he spent in front of the mirror every day trying to make sure that he looked the part. While he politely declined and told them to have a good time, Billy didn’t want to just go home and stew. He would just wind up arguing in silence with his conscience that had been gnawing at him lately like a cookiecutter shark that had sunk its teeth deep into his ankle, trying to scoop out his flesh. He considered calling Amber, suggesting they get together, but they saw the situation at work so differently. Feeling every bit like the loser he feared he might be, he started his car to go home, alone.
In an effort to distract himself from the conflicting thoughts that had been keeping him up most nights, Billy stopped at the bar near his apartment. He had flirted with pretty girls there before which not only boosted his ego, it was also a great distraction. He scored a perfect street parking spot and took that as a sign that he was supposed to be there. As soon as he walked in though, he wasn't as confident.
A burgundy slip dress with embroidered roses all over it stopped him before he was even at the bar top. Billy could practically feel the mesh straps between the pads of his fingers as he sat down on a stool, having helped you out of it countless times.
One drink, he promised himself. He didn't think things ended terribly and it had been over a year anyway. Mentally, he told himself to focus on himself or to drum up conversation with the striking curly haired model-type two seats over.
Instead, out of his peripheral, he saw you pulling a cream colored cardigan over yourself and holding it closed with both arms around your chest while some guy talked thisclose to your face. He felt a pain in his stomach and half stood up before remembering what you had said to him once in the passenger seat of his car, “Billy, I'm not a little girl. I can defend myself.” If it had annoyed you then, he had to assume that it would annoy you now to have your ex-boyfriend step in.
He couldn't entirely help himself though. As you walked toward the bar, leaning over to ask for your bill, he called over, “Hey, is that guy bothering you?”
It took you a second to register that the voice was directed at you. As soon as your eyes found Billy, your face lit up like hilltop mansion.
“No, but this guy is. Hi!” Meeting him in his spot, you wrapped your arms around his neck to the best of your ability and held him tight for a second. His large hands slow to completely let you go. “Billy, it's so good to see you.” It had been over a year since he ended things, dragging it out until you were both miserable.
“I live around here. What are you doing here? Can you stay for a drink?”
He saw you look to the guy behind the bar as he tapped his finger against the register screen, presumably calling up your tab.
“On me.” He tapped his hand to his chest like he was swearing an oath.
“Okay, one drink.” You caved and plunked down on the stool beside him. “I wasn't going to come out tonight, but it's a last hurrah for Zoey.” Pointing over your shoulder to the table you had been at with work friends. Billy remembered Zoey well because she told him he was pretentious twice and not like it was her opinion, but simply a fact. “She got a job at a fancy gym downtown. Not an Equinox, but a place like it. A place you'd get a membership too.” You teased before thanking the bartender for the bill and opening up your little black purse. Billy noted it wasn't the one you had been wearing when you two were together, the brown one from the Gap that was falling apart.
He took a second to order you a gin and 7Up, hoping that your drink order hadn't changed even if your purse had. He saw you roll your eyes, directed at your lap, when he requested Hendricks and not just “gin”.
“I have a gym in my building actually.”
“Ah, so no on-site massage therapist.” You mused while putting a creased twenty on your bill and pushing it away. You weren't really fishing if he had a girlfriend. For some reason, you assumed that he did.
Picking up the drink, you reached over to tap it gently against his own drink, but after your first sip you took Billy in with a softer smile than you had greeted him with. The curve of your lips flattened as you took him in. He had on an expensive overcoat, his wrist was weighed down by a shiny silver watch, and in a bar with brighter lighting, you would have been able to see your reflection in his shoes. He mentioned living nearby which meant he was in an up and coming neighborhood and in a building with a gym. It seemed like he finally had the life he really wanted when you two were together, but he didn't seem happy.
“Are you meeting someone? What are you doing here?”
“I just…I…” Billy almost said he needed to just get out, but he worried it came across pathetic. He was usually quicker on his feet, years of working in sales had gifted him that skill, but it was hard when his ex-girlfriend was reading him like a take-out menu. “Just wasn't ready to go home yet.” He settled on.
“Bad day at…?”
“I'm still at Purdue.” He clarified from behind the rim of his glass, watching as you nodded and didn't look at all surprised. “No. It was a good day. It's been a great year.”
“But something's not right?”
At first, he framed you in something that resembled annoyance, but Billy physically shook it from his face after a second. It actually felt really good to have someone see him, to not have to perform for a second.
“What gave it away?” He laughed and emptied all, but one sip of his drink.
Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, Billy notes that they were decorated with pearl studs that looked real. He wanted to know if they were a gift from a guy.
“We were together a good chunk of time. I knew you pretty well.” Two years and a bit wasn't nothing. “What's going on, Billy?”
The glass was back on top of the hardwood bar and Billy’s hands were clasped together instead, leaning forward as he wrestled with opening up. He knew he should talk to someone. Someone without an agenda or a bias. Someone like his ex-girlfriend who he had left wounded due to no fault of her own.
“I have everything that I wanted now.” He was sleeping with one of the hottest, if not the hottest, woman he had ever seen. He was making more money than he ever had been before. He wore designer labels. He drove a nice car. Yet, Billy was beginning to hate himself. He wiped at his forehead and swallowed hard before admitting, “I'm not good - I'm fucking miserable.” Sheepishly, Billy checked up from his Gucci shoes to see you keeping your mouth too full to talk, gin slightly pushing out your cheeks. “Shit. You're about to say I told you so.”
Swallowing as quick as you could, you hurriedly shook your head from side to side.
“No.” It's urgency made it sound a little bit like a lie. You did want to revel in that, but you didn't want to kick a man when he was down. “I'm going to say that I am sorry’, that sucks.”
“You don't want to gloat a little bit?”
It wasn't hard to remember any of the conversations between the two of you where Billy lamented being unsatisfied and you asked if he really thought “items” and “status” would change that. It was hard for him to look at you as a voice of wisdom then because you were usually in the black uniform scrubs you wore to the spa you worked as a massage therapist in.
“That wouldn't feel good for either of us. Besides, we were never going to work out, Billy.” He seemed to want you to behave like a pissed off ex who hated him, but that wasn't you.
“Why's that?”
“I am just a massage therapist. I was never going to be enough for you.” The words came out so simply like you were talking about the weather. You washed them down with your last sip and were up on your feet.
“What the hell? That's not true.” His brows squished his eyes and brought his whole face together like he was insulted or had just bitten into a lemon wedge.
“Cause you're not enough for you.” You finished the thought and watched him take it in, making him instantly sober. “No pharmaceutical company or spending spree at Saks can fix that.” In the past, he hadn't believed you, but the umpteenth time was enough. You weren't his “wholesome” girlfriend anymore, you were someone who saw him and Billy realized now that nobody else had since he broke up with you. He surrounded himself with empty husks who worshipped greed. They only liked him for what he could do for them. “I really got to go. I have a stacked day tomorrow.” Billy was forced out of his head as you hugged him again, kissing his cheek chastily as you did. “It was so good to see you, Gorgeous. Thanks for the drink.”
Billy raised his hand to say ‘goodbye’, but you were already rushing back over to your small group of friends to hug them ‘goodbye’ too.
Turning around to leave, Billy made your heart jump. He was coming toward the door as if to see you out.
“Hey, do you think if I ever sort my shit out…maybe, we could get together some time? Just hang out?” His eyes looked hopeful, but childish. It didn't match anything else about him.
Billy could spy Zoey glaring at him from a good ten feet away while you decided how to respond.
“Sure.” You decided, knowing that either Billy would never reach out or, if he did, you could set up boundaries. “I'll always be there for you, Billy.”
Watching you leave through the sliding patio window behind him, Billy felt stupid for ever forgetting that. You would always be there for him.
