Page 3 of Everything She Wanted

“Cheers.” He clinks his glass to mine and gives me a little wink that sends a shiver down my spine.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” he asks.

Fun? Is that even part of my vocabulary anymore? My life is mostly working and trying to make my family happy—an impossible task.

“I love live music actually.” I look over at the trumpet player, who’s packing up after just finishing his set.

“Really? Me too.” He glances down at his watch. “There’s this new jazz place that opened near here with a late show this evening,” he says, taking another sip of his drink.

“I was going to head there in a bit if you want to join me.” I see a glint of something in his eyes, and my heart flutters. I smooth the napkin on the bar before putting my drink down. My pulse speeds up. I know I shouldn’t be having this conversation—I’m here to focus on my work. I tell myself it’s harmless.

What would Fantasy Nisha do? She would go for it.

“That sounds nice, actually.”

What kind of guy are you going to attract dressed like that? Not a husband. My mom’s voice leeches into my thoughts abruptly, threatening to ruin whatever this is.

I squash it down with another gulp of my drink. I won’t let my old life and limitations take over now.

The bartender rushes over.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Rachel wants you for a few photos.” He fidgets with his apron and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, of course. Just give me a sec.” I flash the bartender a reassuring smile.

“My friend is helping to promote this place. She helps local businesses with social media marketing.” I look over at his gorgeous face.

“That’s awesome. Good for her.” He seems sincere in his praise, which is refreshing. Some people don’t get it.

“Maybe I could meet you there in a bit?” I slide off the stool and gaze up at him, not sure what to do with myself.

“Sure. It’s called Prohibition. Just over on Howe Street, about a five-minute drive from here.” He gives me a look that makes me lightheaded with anticipation.

I walk away gracefully, swaying in a way that I hope is both alluring and aloof. My heart is racing, and it takes everything in me to play it cool.

The photos with Rachel take longer than expected, but there’s still time to go to the jazz club, even though old me would never do anything like this.

Rachel offers to come with me, but I tell her I’ll be fine. I know she’s tired after a long day and night.

“Make sure to text me if you need an escape hatch,” she calls out, as she leaves me waiting for my Uber.

“I will,” I call back. I relish the security of having someone to rely on.

I step out of the car in front of Prohibition. I walk in, pay the cover, and gaze around the venue in awe. Low blue couches surround circular tables, and blue high-backed seats line the stone bar. Black drapes adorn the walls, and a vintage chandelier adds to the opulent feel. It has a clandestine vibe that makes me feel even more like Fantasy Nisha: sexy, illicit, dark, and daring.

The club is heaving with people, and I have no idea how I’m going to find mystery man again. I scan the crowd, starting with the bar, and after a while I finally spot him seated on a couch, looking like a daydream I couldn’t even dare to let myself imagine. One spotless shoe rests on his knee, and he holds a glass of amber liquid while glancing down at his watch. He looks up and scans the room.

I almost don’t want him to see me so I can just stay here and observe him from afar. No such luck. His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a little smile that sends a thrill through me. I gather up my courage and take slow steps toward him, even as my mind races with reasons I should leave. I promised myself I would never do casual, having it ingrained in me to ‘find the one,’ but maybe this could be something more. It probably couldn’t hurt, since I’m approaching the big three zero and don’t have any prospects on the horizon—a fact my family finds every opportunity to remind me of. Luckily, the few drinks I had earlier dull my senses enough to subdue my anxious thoughts.

He stands to greet me like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“You made it.”

I’m mesmerized as I take in his eyes again, matching the blue all around me, and speckled with what looked like a scattering of stars from a distant universe.

“I’m glad you came.” He gestures to the seat next to him, but there isn’t much space, so when I sit, I’m pressed right up against him and the woman next to me. My already short dress shifts even higher, and I try not to pull it down self-consciously. He moves to face me and gives me more room. The jazz band is between sets, so we have a chance to talk.

He subtly looks me up and down as if he needs to drink me in. I take a moment to do the same and notice his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, the dark grey poplin contrasting with his slightly tanned skin and bright eyes. I want to run my fingers over the cool, crisp fabric.