Ask Jake (Book One of the Whisper Series)

Four: It's Your Birthday

Tuesday is local band night at Guinevere's. When we walk in, a new band is playing and they sound pretty good. They seem to have quite a following because the place is packed. There is no place to sit inside and it's too cold to sit outside.

My stomach rumbles as a tray of food passes before me. At the same time, my cell phone buzzes with a text message:

UNKNOWN: *We got a table outside in the back. I stole a bunch of heaters, so it's warm. Adam*

I turn to Roxy and show her the message, then I scream, "How did he get my number?"

"I gave it to him because mine is about to die and I wanted to make sure we found him," she replies.

"Would you have done that if you knew he was gay?" I snicker.

"Probably," she shrugs. "Probably not, but he' still fun to look at." She giggles.

We squeeze our way to the back door and spill outside. At the table sits, Adam, Greg, and to my extreme displeasure, Phil. I wave at everyone and notice two empty seats, one next to Adam and one next to Phil. Adam notices the glance and he pulls the seat out next to him and says, "This one's for you." I smile and Phil glowers at him from across the table.

To soften the mood, I say, "Hi Phil, How are you?" He's so pleased from my acknowledgement that my heart hurts for him.

I would introduce Greg to Roxy, but he's all over her in the first thirty seconds. She's laughing like a school girl while he treats her like a barbie, petting her hair, feeling the fabric of her skirt, and spewing compliments over her beautiful blue eyes and perfect little figure. I can't help but laugh at the site of these two outgoing people fawn over each other.

The waitress comes out and takes our food order before disappearing through wooden doors.

The first round of beers helps satisfy my hunger, slightly. On the second round, our food arrives and I eat all I can of my burger and fries. Adam steals what's left of my fries, while I finish my beer. I feel a little tipsy, I think.

Have I ever been buzzed off two beers? I wonder.

Phil keeps looking at me, trying to make eye contact. In return, I've become very touchy-feely with Adam, whom seems to understand and to be playing along. I think a new found freedom in knowing he's gay that makes me feel comfortable to touch him.

Phil is glaring at my arm on Adam's shoulder; I can tell he does not like it. This may not be the nicest game, but Phil needs to know that there will never be anything between he and I. I don't believe he knows Adam is gay and I can't help but take advantage of Adam's willingness to help.

Over the speaker, the band announces that they are selling Cd's in the back for five dollars. I decide to go purchase one. As I stand, I realize I'm not that drunk. I think I'm just high because its my birthday and all the touching from Adam. It has been over five years since I've had this much contact with another man.

Wow, five years, I think.

Making my way to dark whole in the back of the club, I settle myself in a long line of fans. With nothing else to do, I find myself eavesdropping on the girls in front of me. Their conversation is completely uninteresting as they rant about shoes, make-up and guys.

The band members are sprawled out behind a flimsy folding table. Their popularity might not be as big as I thought. Otherwise, they'd have groupies doing their bidding.

My impatience grows with every minute. Why don't they each sell to move the line faster?

The girls in front of me are up, but they do not buy a CD, instead they are asking to take pictures and get autographs. The guys are more than happy to oblige them, giving me a clear understanding why the line is moving so slowly.

After too many pictures and autographs, it's - finally - my turn and when things get, weird. All of the guys look at me at the same time, like they don't know why I'm there.

"I'll take one CD," I say, putting a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

One of the guys in the back staring at me, forcing my eyes meet his gaze. I catch him looking me over. He stops at my left ring finger, focusing on my fake wedding ring that I wear to wade off unwanted male advances. As if I offended him, he turns completely, seeming to examine a poster. A weird feeling takes over my stomach: annoyed, frustrated, or simply bothered?

What's his problem? I think.

They scramble for change for a long time, digging through each other's pockets and in their moneybag. I decide to ease their discomfort by smiling and saying, "I'll take two CD's, after all. My friend will like it."

The amount of relief this gives the money guy is kind of silly. He hands me a ten-dollar bill and two CD's.

Relieved to be back at the table, I find that Greg has ordered a round of something called, Flaming Doctor Pepper's.

"Birthday girl goes first," Greg says. Holding up a shot glass over a glass of beer, he explains, "I am going to light this amaretto on fire and drop it in the beer glass, its going to foam up, so you have to shoot the whole thing right away. Don't stop. You'll love it."

I do as I'm told. He drops the flaming shot glass into the beer and it foams up. I drink it all, and it tastes just like Doctor Pepper or cream soda, both of which, I really like.

Everyone else takes a run and I laugh out loud when Phil spills it all over his shirt. Teasing him, I comment on how it might wash away the ketchup stains.

After the second Doctor Pepper thing, time gets a little fuzzy.

We're dancing. Phil is there, I think he's trying to grind with me but I keep moving away. I see Adam laughing in the corner with Greg and Roxy. They all watch Phil putting his hands on me, but they think it's funny because Phil has no chance.

It's not funny.

I'm finished allowing Phil's assault on me and stroll to where my friends are standing. Adam's loosened tie becomes my handhold as I tug him to follow me. His eyes light up as I drag him to the middle of dance floor.

We're dancing and I can feel Adam's hands on me, but he's so much more respectful than Phil.

God, I like it.

I glance around the room and see all the people swaying to the music, almost like they are in slow motion. The entire room looks a little different to me. The lights seem brighter and the ceiling seems higher. I know the bar is not that far away, but in this moment it looks far, almost like I am getting smaller. The wooden walls and railings suddenly look slick, metallic even. I want to put words to it, to remember how it looks, but my mind is heavy.

Phil's aggravates me from the corner of the room with a maniacal grin that gives me the creeps and makes me wonder what he's thinking.

Ewe! Why won't he leave?

Pushing a little closer into Adam, I run my hands up his chest. I dare not look into his handsome face; I will lose the courage to keep up this charade. Spinning around, I turn my back to him, dancing closer. Adam tries to be respectful by only touching my arms, but it feels even more intimate than if he were touching me elsewhere. He gently moves his hands down my arms that are over my head, tickling me. Trailing down to my torso, he lightly puts his hands on my waist. He's barely touching me and it makes me want more, so much more.

Wiping some sweat with my hand, I realize that I can't feel my face.

Oh no. I'm drunk.

Like, can't feel my face, drunk.

I turn my body around and put my hands on top of Adam's, still on my waist, and scream into his ear, "I'm going to go home now."

"What?" he screams back.

"I'm going to go home now," I say, using hand gestures to point toward the door.

"You're leaving?" he says, holding his hands in a question. I'm too far-gone to decipher the look on his face.

Oh hell. I'm wasted.