A Selfish Moment

6 - Everett - 6:30 PM

Watching Jessica strut out of her Fifth Avenue apartment building in four-inch, platform shoes, wearing a tiny piece of black cloth that barely covers her torso, makes me want to kill Isaac. Are we going to a barbeque or a night club? My jeans and Yankees tee shirt looks completely mismatched with her getup.

I decide to wait in my red Jeep Wrangler and let her open the passenger door for herself. Too many gentlemanly gestures may send the wrong message and I want to make my platonic intentions blatantly clear. After she hops into the passenger seat, she leans over seductively and greets me with a kiss on the cheek. Her right hand holds my face in place for a second as she whispers in my ear, "Everett, love. I was so happy when Isaac told me you were picking me up."

"I feel a bit underdressed. We're going to a barbeque, right?"

"Yes, but you can never get too dressed up. You never know what will happen," she replies with a smile and lowers the sun visor to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her thick, black eyelashes flutter faster than a butterfly's wings, regardless of the amount of goo covering each lash. She dabs her caramel lips with her middle finger and grins at herself to check for anything stuck in her teeth. The smell of some ammonia-based perfume slowly fills my car and attacks my senses, forcing me to scratch my nose and wipe my eyes from the sting. I painfully recall Jubilee's tantalizing scent right along her neckline. My mouth waters as I remember kissing her bare neck and holding back the urge to suck on her skin. She was the aroma of pure delight, a complete contrast to this artificially manufactured fragrance.

We cross the Fifty Ninth Street Bridge with little traffic only to get lost in the empty streets of Long Island City. Jessica's phone GPS wasn't working, and she was certain she could guide me to the apartment building from memory, but after a few turns going nowhere I turn on my GPS and finally get us on track. Within five minutes we arrive at a large, new development overlooking the East River.

We walk along a perfectly manicured front lawn and tree lined entrance to the twenty-story building, Jessica leads me past a small kid's fair in the building's enclosed garden complete with large blow-up boxing ring and several carnival stands. Aryana's photo flashes into my head for a brief moment before Jessica pulls my hand forward and takes me away from the bustling sound of laughing children to the other side of the building to see the majestic New York City skyline. Although the view is plastered all over Manhattan, in every sidewalk stand selling souvenirs, and seen in countless movies and television shows, none of the replicas compare to the real thing.

"See, it's a nice view isn't it?" Jessica asks as she spins on her toes with her arms stretched outwards like a model displaying a prize on a game show. I nod in agreement and smile at her playfulness. Even though she has tons of makeup on and is wearing a dress sized for a twelve-year-old girl, Jessica is stunning, in a pole-dancer, bachelor-party-stripper sort of way.

A short, portable bar is setup on the fenced boardwalk next to a large smoking grill. Several people sit at metal tables eating and drinking. Two guys gawk at Jessica as she leans over the bar to talk to the bartender. She cocks her head flirtatiously at the young server, who looks like he's still in high school, and after nodding like a bobble head doll he hands her two shots. When I catch up to her, she smiles grandly with her offer.

"What's this?" I shout over a gust of wind.

"Here's to an awesome night!" She shouts back and downs her drink.

I take the shot glass in my hand and look closely at the clear liquid, pursing my lips. Maybe I have been a bit uptight. Isaac calls me an old man because I don't like to party the way he does, going to bars to flirt with women at least twice a week. It just doesn't appeal to me. But as Jessica looks up at me with eager eyes, waiting for me to throw back the shot, the thought of just partying the night away doesn't sound so bad. It's better than staying home and mooning over a woman who doesn't even remember my name. No. I'm not going to think about her. I down the shot faster than Jessica did and gasp at the engine-gas flavor of whatever I just swallowed.