The roar of the crowd erupting drifted through my living room's open windows. Sounded like another win for the home team. The delay on the television showed Big Papi hitting a homer in the bottom of the ninth. Now we were guaranteed a good night out on Lansdowne.
I took a swig of my #9 and turned off the TV. "You ladies ready to par-tay?!" Hannah shouted from the bathroom as she ran the straightener through her kinky hair. I don't know why she bothered. She'd ultimately end up putting it in a bun anyway.
"Hell yeah!" Jordan replied from my bedroom. I walked in to find her applying the final touches to her flawless makeup. "How do I look?"
"Like a man-eater." I countered with a smile as I slipped on my heels. "How do I look?" I asked as I surveyed myself in the full length mirror on my closet. I was wearing a new top. It was a dark purple, deep cowl neck that tied at the neck in the back, and then hung open with another tie just above my backside. I felt completely ridiculous and exposed, but Debbie had insisted I looked "dead sexy" and wouldn't let me leave the store without it. I had intended to return it later, but I'd found it in my closet today and thought "what the heck."
"Like a million bucks." Jordan assured me as she peered over my shoulder into the mirror with a wink. Jordan and Hannah were by best friends from middle and high school. We'd survived the grueling academics and pathetic social life our tiny all girls Catholic school had to offer. I found it pretty amazing that we didn't kill each other over those seven years and remained friends to this day, but since there were only eleven other girls in our class to choose from, we stuck together. We stayed close through college with e-mail and were happy to be reunited in the New England area post-graduation. Hannah graduated as a Friar and stuck around Rhode Island as a writer for the Providence Journal. She came up to Boston for the occasional "girls' night out." Jordan graduated from Cornell, and was currently attending Harvard Business School. Despite being the nerd of the group, she was a hard ass and the beauty knew how to make men fall to their knees.
I scrolled to a party playlist on my ipod and hit play. Hannah danced into the room, gin and tonic in hand. "So, where to tonight?" As I had predicted, she had swept her hair up into a twist, exposing her long, graceful neck.
I shrugged. It didn't matter to me, I was just happy to be with the girls. "Tequila Rain!" Jordan insisted as she bounced in her seat on the bed, red wine precariously swirling in the glass in her hand.
How could I forget how much she loved that ridiculous place. "Please, Jordan, please, no, anywhere but there." The dance floor was always crawling with slimy men who grabbed and grinded when you least wanted them to. And with a top like mine, I was certain someone would attempt to loosen the ties, no matter that I double knotted them.
"Fine, you spoil sport. How about Lansdowne Pub? That way, we can waste our perfectly sexy outfits by sitting around and drinking beer!" Jordan's offer dripped with sarcasm.
Hannah, the peacemaker, stepped in. "Oh, shut up you two! I did not drive up from Providence for this old argument. I'm sorry I asked. Let's just go to Who's on First? That way you can dance in the basement, Jordan, and you can enjoy your beer on the first floor, Jacks. Problem solved!"
"Fine. To girl's night." She thrust her now almost empty glass of Cabernet between the two of us, and we all clinked our glasses.
A drink or two later, we were out the door and showing our IDs to the bouncer in no time. The bass was pounding in the basement. "I'm hitting up the dance floor, you coming?" Jordan asked us.
Hannah nodded, but I insisted I needed another drink before I braved being watched by greasy, sleazy men. I worked my way over to bar, and self consciousness settled in as I felt eyes darting to my cleavage with every other person I passed. When I made it to the bar, I immediately attempted to adjust the cowl to be less revealing. Someone bumped elbows with me, and I moved over a bit. It happened again and, annoyed, I looked up into milk chocolate eyes.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Brad?" I was so surprised to see him that the question didn't even register. I hadn't seen my neighbor's sexy younger brother in months. After he left me a slice of cake and a note in the hallway of my apartment, I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was the star of my sexual fantasies for weeks afterwards. I always secretly hoped to bump into him in the elevator, and even occasionally made two trips from the car with groceries to increase that chance when in reality only one trip was necessary. I was hopelessly attracted to him, but as weeks turned into months, he failed to knock on my door. It would appear that Maisy's mom either only had one unbirthday a year or she got into the habit of stocking up on eggs.
He laughed. "I was hoping you'd remember me."
"How could I forget a man that left me cake on my doorstep?" I asked matter-of-factly. The bar tender came over, and Brad ordered himself a Harpoon I.P.A. "Make it two," I added as they both turned to me.
Brad nodded in approval and smiled at me as the bartender went about pouring our drinks. "Are you actually a beer drinker? Or are you just trying to impress me?"
"I am proud to be a beer drinker. And I'll have none of that light, low calorie crap. Impressed?" I grinned back, very grateful to be rid of my retainer mouth.
"Very." He assured me with a clink of his beer glass to mine that the bartender had just finished filling. The fact that it was girls' night flew from my mind. All I wanted to do was leave, immediately, with Brad in tow, so we could get to know each other a little better. I looked him up and down. He was wearing the same well loved Sox hat, a green Sox shirt with a shamrock on it that hugged his muscles in all the rights ways, and a pair of broken-in light blue jeans. As my eyes traveled back up to his face, I blushed to find he was surveying me as well.
I nervously took a sip of my beer and racked my brain for something, anything to say. "So, uh, were you at the game?"
His eyes snapped from my breasts to my face, and he grinned his million dollar grin. His eyes, however, were not simply as warm as they initially seemed. Instead they held a more intense heat that shot straight to my lower stomach. "Hell yeah! My buddy's dad is a Boston detective, so he got us seats up on the monster since he was working tonight." As if on cue, Brad's extremely drunk buddy stumbled into him. "Sully, watch it!" Brad cautioned as he tired to steady his friend and avoid spilling any of his beer. "Jackie, this is Danny O'Sullivan, but everyone just calls him Sully. Sully, this is Jackie. She lives in Maura's building."
Sully gave Brad a knowing look. "Maura's building, huh?" Had Brad mentioned me? Then he stuck his hand out to me. "The pleasure is all mine, Jackie," he slurred.
"Nice to meet you, Sully." I shook his hand and took a gulp of my beer.
Sully clearly could only focus on one thing at a time when intoxicated and reverted back to the task at hand. "Anyways, dude, I just ran into Smash and Ross downstairs. Let's go!" Sully turned and headed towards the stairs without waiting for an answer.
Brad put his hand on my exposed lower back, and the warmth started to flood to my undies. "Those are some friends from college. Want to come meet them?"
"Sure," I answered before I even thought. All I knew is that I wanted to keep his hands on me, and I would go anywhere with him tonight. "Where did you go to school?" I asked. He put a bit of pressure on my back to direct me towards the stairs, but before he could answer I heard a familiar bellow from down the other end of the bar.
"JACK!" My older brother Freddie was trashed, but he would follow me to the end of the earth shouting my manly nickname if I didn't acknowledge him. He and Debbie shared the position of the middle child, since we were an even eight, and they both demanded the center of attention like no body's business.
"Actually, Brad, I'll catch up with you later. I've got to say 'hi' to my big brother." I nudged him towards the stairs with a smile. He gave me a disappointed look, but I assured him I'd find him after.
I turned around and was caught by Freddie in a big bear hug, but he pulled back when his hands touched the bare skin on my back. He raised an eyebrow, "Why aren't you wearing more clothes? Dad would kill you if he saw you wearing that."
I knocked him on the arm, "Oh shut up Alfred, I'm a big girl now. I can wear what I want."
He winced at his full name. "Don't call me that Jacquelyn!"
"Then don't call me Jack! I'm a girl!"
His eyes darted to the exposed valley between my breasts and he grimaced. "So I see. Well, come over on Sunday night. Merry will be in town, so everyone's coming to mine for pizza and booze. Mum's going to make her ice cream cake." He gave me another hug. "Beware of scum bags. You look too good in that outfit. Like Debbie." It was a running joke in the family that Debbie definitely knew how to dress for her body type, but it was not a talent that impressed my parents. She often showed up for holidays dressed a little too sexy for their liking, and would be forced to wear one of Mum's turtlenecks if she wanted to be allowed at the table. My mother would scold in her Cork accent "I'll not have kind of cleavage in my gaff, so."
