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He looks around and quickly locates me. He walks decisively over to me and says, “Jude, come with me.”
David gawks at him and then at me.
“You know this guy?” he asks.
Eric beats me to the punch.
“She’s mine. Anything else?”
His? How arrogant can he be?
Surprised, David looks back at me. I blink, and, finally, as I prepare a Rum and Coke for the redhead on the right, I respond, “I’m not yours.”
“Oh no?” Eric insists.
“No.”
I give the redhead his drink, and once he’s paid his tab, I turn back to Eric.
“I’m nothing of yours. We’re finished and ...”
Fixing his spectacular blue eyes on me, Eric doesn’t let me finish.
“Jude, honey, will you stop talking nonsense and come with me?”
Annoyed by his words, I snarl. “You’re going to have to stop this foolishness, OK? I’ll say it again: I’m not your wife or your girlfriend or anything else either. I’m absolutely nothing of yours, and I want you to leave me in peace.”
“Jude ...”
“Forget me and let me work,” I continue, annoyed. “I want you to find someone else, focus on her, and stay away from me, understood?”
I’m dead serious, but Eric just looks at me ...
His jaw is tense, and I know he’s holding back his most primitive impulses, those that drive me crazy. God, I’m a masochist! David stares at both of us, but before he can say anything, Eric murmurs, “OK, Jude.”
Without further ado, he turns around and proceeds to the back of the bar. Uncomfortable, I follow him with my eyes.
“Who is that guy?” David asks.
I don’t answer. I just keep my eyes on Eric and watch as my bar mate serves him a whisky.
David insists. “Again, who is that?”
“Someone from my past,” I answer.
Upset and angry, I try to forget Eric’s here. I keep making drinks and smiling at the people who come up to order. For a long time, I don’t even look at him. David’s delightful, and he’s constantly trying to make me laugh. But my laughter freezes and my blood drains when, as I go to grab a bottle off a shelf, I see Eric talking to a pretty girl. He’s totally focused on her, which infuriates me and puts me in a very bad mood.
I turn around. I don’t want to keep seeing what he’s doing, but my damned curiosity forces me to look again. The girl is giving off all the usual signals women emit when a man interests them—a touch to his hair, his ear, and a come-hither smile.
Suddenly, the blonde runs a finger down his cheek. Why does she have to touch him?
Eric doesn’t move, and she gets closer and closer, until she’s wedged between his legs. Eric looks at her. His ardent gaze gets me hot. She runs a finger on his neck, and he lowers his eyes.
When he drops his eyes like that, followed by his crooked smile, I know it can mean only one thing. I could kill him!
Eric’s doing what I asked him to do. He’s found another woman. He’s having fun, and like an idiot, I’m here suffering.
Fifteen minutes later, he stands up, takes the girl’s hand, and, without looking back at me, leaves the premises.