This story will sound a little crazy, and if it hadn't been my life, I probably wouldn't believe it! But it's a true story. To understand, you need a little backstory about me, and my family. Bear with me, it'll take a little explaining for this to make sense. I'll tell you about me, and introduce you to my family – or at least my Mom, later. I was a wild child. Not a bad student, not a bad person, but I was wild. I had boyfriends (a lot!) and I did what I wanted. Not all of those "boyfriends" turned out to be great guys, and while I always had fun, I also ended up with a certain attitude about guys, and relationships, and not all of it was completely healthy. I'm not that girl anymore; like all of us, I grew up. And because of one particular guy, and almost losing that guy, I grew up to have a real relationship, the kind people dream about having. I'll you the story of almost losing him another time. This is the story of how I got him.
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I had known "Rich" in college, but not very well. He was two years ahead of me at a good-sized school, but he played football, and was in a big fraternity, and sometimes we ended up at the same parties. He was handsome, a good student, an athlete, president of this or that, got awards, and was the kind of guy that everyone knew was going to have a great career and a perfect wife and live in a nice house in the 'burbs. When we ran across one another, it was usually about the time that he and the boys were settling into a drinking game and I was slipping out to get on the back of a motorcycle and head to a place that was lit – if at all - only by flashes of strobe.
So, to make a long story short, Rich and I never hooked up. He was (I assumed) busy dating cheerleaders, or a valedictorian, and I was dating a guitar player, or a bad boy professor. If I had thought about him, I probably thought that he would have thought I was a slut who wasn't good enough for him. And I thought he was boring. If I had paid attention, I would have learned he had an incredible body, was whip smart, and was as adventurous as I was. I might also have learned he was a badass with a sarcastic sense of humor and a cock that went on for days. If this were a superhero story, it would be as if Clark Kent's alter ego, instead of being Superman, was Deadpool. (Minus the facial burns. But I still love that movie!) But college ended, life went on, and I had no idea what I missed. Until a few years later, our paths crossed again.
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I had two gigs, one of which was hostessing parties. (Basically, I was a concierge for private parties. I gave orders to waiters and waitresses, called limos, looked after music or other entertainment, and made sure everyone had a good time.) That night was a corporate gig that started with cocktails, moved through dinner, and then to a club. I was to stay through dinner, get them settled into a nightclub, and job done.
Usually these things were pretty tame. People were polite, they were happy to have me there to laugh at jokes, or make jokes, and talk about how wonderful the wine selection was, and that the chef had won this or that award, and basically make sure they felt good about the piles of money they were spending. This occasion wasn't any different, except for one guy. He was big, really big, and he was loud and obnoxious. Other people at the party kept him in check at first, but after a while the booze got to him. He was no longer listening, and he was even getting belligerent with his friends.
Sometimes, if I was enjoying it, I would stick around after the job was done. But "Big Guy" was bothering me heavily by this time, and I wasn't hanging around any longer than necessary. I was chatting with the staff, and was about to turn back to say goodbye to the guests, when someone touched me on the elbow. I spun around, thinking it was Big Guy, and started to tell him off. But it wasn't Big Guy. I was face to face with a tall handsome guy. He looked vaguely familiar.
He said, "Hello Kat" and put out a hand for a very business-like shake. When he realized I didn't remember his name, he didn't say anything more. He just smiled a little half smile and let me squirm.
He was dressed like a downtown professional, so I figured we had met at a party like this one, but I couldn't place him. I had taken up the handshake and was about to apologize for not remembering his name, when he smiled a little wider. "The last time I saw you, you were walking out the door with the lead singer of 'Forever Friday'."
Context clicked.
"Rich. Football team and fraternity president."
He smiled again. For the first time, I noticed his eyes. They twinkled with secrets they weren't telling.
He looked at me and said, "That seems to be what most people remember about me."
I caught the slight emphasis on "most". I felt that little jolt of interest from deep inside, but at that moment, there was a loud crash from the private room.
"Uh oh. I better go."
I turned to go, but we were still in the handshake. He held it for just a second, and I looked back at him. Direct eye contact, and once again, that little jolt from deep inside.
"I hope I run into you again" he said. Then he turned away.
I was a bit distracted as I hurried back to my group. One of the guests had overturned a serving tray, and then dropped it again trying to pick it up. A busboy already had it mostly cleaned up, and I regretted having to break away from Rich for nothing. I walked over to say good night to the guy in charge of the group. He was apologizing for the mess, and thanking me for the lovely evening, when Big Guy shouldered his way in.
When I say big, he was probably 6'8" and easily 300 pounds; the type of guy who had been an athlete because his size made it easy for him, but he didn't work enough to go pro. Put him on the field with a real athlete as big as he was, and he didn't stand a chance.
"You need a ride home or anything?" he asked me. "I'm happy to help, you know, if you do."
"No, thank you. I drove myself." As soon as I said that, I regretted it, knowing what was coming next.
"Well, I was about to leave anyway. I'll walk you to your car."
He was proud of himself for maneuvering that in a way that was hard to say no, but the other guy actually stepped up.
"Kyle, I need you to help me get the rest of these clowns on their way. They're pretty hammered."
Big Guy frowned, I smiled, and headed out. As soon as I stepped through the employee's only door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I carry pepper spray, and I like to think I'm tougher than most, but let's be honest: Big Guy could have twisted me into a pretzel and there wouldn't have been a damn thing I could do about it. I didn't know for sure how far he would have taken things, but he was definitely going to ask, and I was definitely going to say no, and after that, it would have been up to him what happened next. That made me scared, and being scared made me mad, and that didn't leave me in a good place. I made a quick pit stop in the bathroom, handed out some tips to the club staff, and headed for the garage.
I pushed open the heavy door from the stairwell and stepped out onto the parking deck. My car was a short way up the ramp, and I had gone a few steps when something struck me. I hadn't heard the boom of the door behind me. The door had not closed. I quickened my step and risked a look back with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was Big Guy.
"You're not runnin' away are you?" he said. His speech was a little slurred.
"I'm going home" I said.
I kept walking. My car was only a few feet away. He followed.
I was at my car and hitting the button on the fob as he was closing in.
"I said I'd walk you, didn't I? Jus' tryin' to do something nice and you act like it's the end of the world."
"Sorry, I'm just tired."
Sorry? Sorry?!? This asshole wants to follow me around and I have to say sorry? That was fear talking. And, once again, being afraid was making me mad.
"Alright, well as long as you're sorry, you can, you know..." he shrugged his shoulders "...you can make it up to me."
A hot spurt of anger flared through me.
"Get the fuck away from me" I said. "I don't have to make up shit to you!"
He was right in front of me now, both of us standing at the trunk of the car. We were face to face and I wasn't backing down. He started to an angry look on his face, and it was only then that I realized, for the second time, that I still hadn't heard a sound from the stairwell door. A second later, it boomed closed.
I jumped at the sound. Big Guy turned around.
Walking briskly up the ramp was Rich. I had never been so fucking happy to see somebody in my life. He walked up to us, looking right at me, and ignoring Big Guy.
"How are you, Kat?" he said, as if there was nothing going on.
My mind raced. Now I had to think about what happens next. Rich was an athlete and muscular and he looked great. But this guy was six inches taller and 100 pounds heavier, and I was sure he was a lot meaner. This might get ugly fast.
"I'm fine. I'm tired and I'm going home."
