Patchwhore(3)By: Kim Jones
“Figured you’d need those.”
“Thank you.” I manage to stifle the hiccup that bubbles in my throat. At least it’s not a sob.
“Here.” She takes a seat, passing me a plastic cup. “It’s Diet Coke. Goes good with the whiskey.” I sip the drink while she takes a seat and lights a cigarette—both of us watching the two lovers too caught up in their throes of passion to notice anyone else.
There must be something special about Clarissa. He’s never held my hands above my head, rocked his fully clothed body against mine or made out with me in a public place. Then again, I haven’t slept with half of the guys on LSU campus either. She’s an experienced slut. Her sluttiness got her your man…
I grab another shot from the tray, quickly chasing it with a sip of Diet Coke. When I lean back in my seat, I finally start to feel the effects of the alcohol. It’s definitely doing its job. My buzz is numbing. And with every kiss, hair pull, giggle and hip thrust I witness, my sadness dissipates—replaced with anger.
The past four months have been hell. Being betrayed by my friends and my lover has resulted in me having to move out of the sorority house. Change my classes. My routine. Schedule. Even my gym membership. I’ve had to rearrange my entire life to move past this. And because I refuse to burden my family with my personal problems, I’ve started to waitress just to make rent this summer. Why? Because I’m a good damn person. And it’s gotten me nowhere but here—front row seats to a dry humping show.
It’s time for another shot.
Unlike the burning liquor, this one is sweet with a butterscotch flavor. When I set the empty glass down, my attention is drawn to a group of men standing around a table next to Jud and Clarissa—one man in particular. He’s looking at me. His head turned slightly as he appraises me, and even though I can’t make out all his features through the cloud of smoke, I’m pretty sure he’s smiling.
The waitress gives me a smirk when she catches me ogling him. “He’s hot, huh?”
“Can’t really tell from here.” Even still, I can’t seem to drag my gaze back to the couple I need to watch in order to fuel my anger.
“You know what they say…” She stands, tucking the tray under her arm before shoving a piece of gum between her lips. “Best way to get over one man is to get under another one.”
Little does she know, that’s exactly why I’m here. But I won’t do to someone else what’s been done to me. So I ask, “Is he married? Have a girlfriend?” She shakes her head. “Are you sure? Just because a guy doesn’t wear a ring doesn’t mean he’s single.”
She rolls her eyes. “Girl, I know everybody in here. He ain’t married.”
“You think he’s interested?” She studies my face. Taking in my hazel eyes and pouty lips framed in perfectly curled, long brown hair. She slides her eyes suggestively toward my cleavage which is nearly non-existent without the help of a bra, before taking in my legs which always receive compliments. Although I think they’re a little too thick.
Muttering something under her breath, she raises a brow at me. “You really think he wouldn’t be into a girl who looks like you? Besides, who you think bought your drinks?”
When her lingering eyes start to make me a little uncomfortable, I look back at the guy. I wish I could make out more of him, but even from a distance, I can tell he’s confident. And the waitress said he was hot. Although at this point, it really doesn’t matter.
This is my night. My chance. An opportunity to make Jud feel what I’ve been feeling for months. Even if it’s just a taste. I may not know Jud like I thought I did, but there’s one thing I’m sure of. He’s the most prideful, possessive, jealous guy I’ve ever met. And seeing me with someone else may not crush him, but it’ll definitely piss him off.
“Do you have a … juke box or something?” She pulls an iPod from her apron. “Dangerous Woman. Can you play it for me?” With a swipe of her finger, the track playing ends. Several people shout their complaints, but their voices are soon lost to the song that gives life to the daydream I’ve played over and over in my head.