One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

21

“Okay! Fun bachelorette cocktails for us. One boring martini for Sarah.”

“It’s a dirty martini,” I protest as Soraya sets the glass in front of me. I eye their brightly colored monstrosities with distaste. “I can’t help that you guys have the tastebuds of children.”

“Do you think there’s going to be audience participation?” Annie asks, looking up at the stage.

“There better be,” Claudia mutters. “Paul won’t care if some guy grinds on you.”

Annie looks worried. “They’re going to grind?”

“That’s the whole point of the show!” she exclaims. I say nothing, drinking my martini.

It’s finally Annie’s bachelorette party. She and Paul arrived two nights ago for Paul’s final bit of work before he transfers to the Dublin office and Soraya wasted no time in dragging Annie out. She has very a different interpretation of fun than Annie does but at least it’s only the four of us. And the night she planned doesn’t sound too bad. An over-the-top male striptease show, followed by drinks at The Aviary was positively tame compared to what we used to get up to in college, and Annie had even put on the plastic tiara Claudia bought her. She drew the line at the sash, however.

“I didn’t know men used poles too,” Claudia says, craning her neck to get a better look. We arrived early to get our drinks and now find ourselves right at the edge of the stage as the room fills up behind us. The show is due to start at any second. “Wouldn’t it be fun if they came out wearing costumes and then one of the guys gave you a lap dance and he took his mask off and it was Paul all along?”

Annie turns wide-eyed toward me.

“That’s not happening,” I reassure her.

Soraya looks annoyed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I thought organizing the bachelorette party was supposed to be your job,” Annie mutters as the girls order a few bottles of prosecco from a passing waitress.

“She feels bad about not making it to the wedding. She wanted to do something for you. Just relax,” I add, pushing her drink toward her. “It’ll be fun.”

Annie takes a sip, glancing at the other tables. Her brow creases. “There’s not a lot of women here.”

I follow her gaze around the room, realizing the same thing. The other patrons seem to be exclusively made up of men. I catch the eye of one at the table next to us, who immediately looks away, embarrassed.

“Hey, Soraya?” I ask as another scantily clad waitress walks past. “You said this was a MagicMike thing, right?”

“Uh-huh. Well, legally they can’t say that but…” She trails off as she too notices the other guests. “Hmm.”

The thumping music gets louder as the lights dip, bathing us all in a deep pink glow.

“Soraya?” Annie definitely sounds worried now. Even Claudia looks unsure, sipping on her drink with a frown.

“Just one second,” Soraya says, frantically scrolling through her phone. “It’s fine,” she says as she starts to read. “See? A first-class experience of some of the sexiest, talented male performers… heart-pumping, empowering dance routines… bottomless prosecco…” She winces. “Join us every Friday night when we’ll—”

“It’s Saturday night!” I interrupt with a hiss.

“Yes, obviously I realize that now!”

We jump as an announcer speaks from the heavens, introducing a series of women as they take to the stage.

“Oh my God,” Annie mutters as they parade around us, taking up their spots around the club including one particularly well-endowed woman right by us.

“It’s fine,” Soraya insists, still searching through her phone. “We’ll go somewhere else. There’s another— Holy crap.”

We all lean back as a woman drops to a perfect split in front of us, her body moving sinuously across the polished floor.

“She must spend a fortune on waxing,” Annie mumbles before growing thoughtful. “Or do you think it’s laser?”

“We can leave,” Soraya says.

“But we’ve already paid for the drinks,” Claudia says. “And—” She breaks off in a gasp as the dancer moves to the pole, spinning twice before inverting herself. “Think of her core strength,” she says, sounding a little awed.

“You see that shoulder definition?” Annie says, tapping my arm. “That’s what I want.”

I nod, transfixed as the dancer holds herself up with her thighs before twisting her body in a way that surely defies the laws of gravity. None of us say anything else for the next few minutes, bursting into applause as soon as the song ends.

The table of men next to us begin to look very uncomfortable.

“That was so impressive,” Annie says, taking out her purse.

“Is there a course you do?” Claudia asks as the woman leans down to her. She slides a bill under the strap of her thong. “Or is it more on-the-job training?”

I catch Soraya’s eyes and she shrugs, looking relieved as she pours us glasses of prosecco.

“See?” she says brightly as the next song begins. “I told you this would be fun.”

* * *

“I have weak wrists,” Claudia says. “Would that be an issue?”

The stripper, whose real name is Amy, sits beside us in the booth. She’s been sitting for the last twenty minutes, as we interrogate her about every aspect of her life. She says it’s allowed so long as we keep buying drinks for the table.

“All my yoga instructors tell me to stretch out through the fingers and I’m like I’m trying, you know?” Claudia continues. “But I do have freakishly strong biceps.”

“The real problem is the falls,” Amy says. She licks her thumb and rubs a bit of makeup off her knee, revealing a deep purple bruise. We all gasp appropriately.

“So badass,” Annie mutters.

“I take a lot of iron supplements.”

“Me too!” Claudia says.

Beside me, Annie jumps as her phone starts to vibrate.

“It’s Paul!” She looks guilty. “I told him I’d check in. I completely forgot.”

“You should answer it,” Claudia says drunkenly and before Annie can stop her, she leans over to press the video button.

Paul’s confused face fills the screen. “Where are you guys?”

Annie glances at us. “At a strip club?”

He bursts out laughing and Annie smiles in relief.

“Everyone’s here,” she says, more confident now. She the tilts phone so I’m in the shot and I wave as I reach for my prosecco.

Paul gives me a mock sigh. “This your grand idea then?”

“I had nothing do with it,” I say. “Blame the other two.”

“Is that Sarah?”

I freeze as another voice sounds through the speaker but Annie’s already turning the screen toward Soraya.

“Who is that?” Claudia shrieks, grabbing the phone and I almost fall over Annie’s lap to confirm.

Declan.

It’s been a few weeks since the singles brunch, although I talk to him almost daily. Quick, professional Hi Sarah, Hi Declan emails we send back and forth with updated plans and timelines and costs for his office. There’s been no more flirting, no more surprises. It’s like we’ve become two completely different people.

And I know that’s what I wanted. I know that’s what I asked for. But it’s still weird.

And now, several martinis in, the memory of our last kiss comes roaring back as Paul hands him the phone. With a start, I recognize the bar behind him. He’s at O’Shea’s.

“I’m the younger brother,” he grins and Claudia practically whimpers. “Hiya, Sarah.”

“Hello,” I squeak.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.” I lean back, just out of shot as Soraya crowds Claudia’s other side trying to get a look.

“You know,” I hear him say, “if you girls come here, I’m sure we can work out some half-price drinks.”

“No,” Annie says loudly as Soraya and Claudia squeal beside her. “This is a girls’ night. We’re fine at our strip club.”

Paul comes back on the screen, looking like he’s trying not to laugh. “There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not glad I married you.”

“I’m hanging up now,” she says. “I don’t think we’re allowed phones in here.”

“Don’t have too much fun,” he says and she disconnects.

“How have we never met him before?” Claudia asks, staring at Annie as though she purposefully kept him hidden.

“Let’s call him back,” Soraya says, trying to grab the phone.

Annie holds it out of her reach. “No, we’re not doing that.”

“Just because you married one brother doesn’t mean I can’t sleep with the other. I don’t need your permission.”

“No, but you might need Sarah’s.”

Both Soraya’s and Claudia’s heads whip toward me. “What!”

Annie slaps a hand over her mouth, but she doesn’t look guilty. “Oops,” she says, giggling.

“Oh, thanks,” I say as Soraya’s mouth drops open.

“You slept with him?”

I look around the table, the alcohol making it hard to lie. Screw it. It’s not like any of them are going to remember this in the morning anyway. “Twice.”

“Twice?” This time it’s Annie who looks shocked and Claudia uses her distraction to steal her phone again. “When was the second time?”

“The night before the wedding.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m ordering more prosecco,” Soraya announces, turning to a scantily clad waitress.

Claudia stares at me, wide-eyed. “Are you guys dating?”

“No.”

“Are you—”

“I’m not doing anything,” I interrupt, snatching the phone from her as she tries to ring Paul back. “Annie, can you put this in your bra?”

“I’m not wearing a bra.” But she tucks it into her purse, snapping it closed.

“You never sleep with the same guy twice,” Soraya insists.

“I do too! It’s not a big deal.”

Claudia frowns. “In a way, because you slept with his brother, is it like you also slept with Paul?”

“It is not like that at all,” I say as Annie starts giggling again. “And for the last time, nothing is happening. Stop laughing, this is your fault.”

“You like him,” Claudia says drunkenly but she doesn’t push it as the lights go down again and the next act begins.

We stay for another hour, spending so much money that we blow our entire budget for the night. As the person living closest to the club, Soraya invites us back to her place for drinks while Claudia gets the name of Amy’s wax girl and then, finally, we wave goodbye to the tough-looking security guards and pile into a cab.

Annie drops her head against my shoulder as Soraya and Claudia start trying to harmonize to the radio. The driver ignores them with practiced disinterest.

“So… twice?”

“It was a wedding,” I groan. “People do stupid things at weddings.”

“I never said it was stupid.”

“Well, it was,” I say firmly. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“But you’re working with him.”

“He sought me out. And I’m in no position to turn down work. Besides, we’re keeping it professional.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know,” she says suddenly. “I know we’re supposed to tell each other everything but if you want to just take it slow and—”

“Annie—”

“You do you. I mean it. After everything with your mom and what happened with Josh… Whenever you want to tell me something, anything at all, I will be here to listen. Even if I’m not physically here, I’m here. I just want you to be happy.”

I sigh at her earnest expression. “I wish you weren’t moving to Ireland.”

She drapes an arm around my shoulders in response, holding me tight to her side. We stay like that until the car finally pulls to a stop and we stumble out as Soraya pays.

My stomach growls as I look around, expecting to see Soraya’s swanky apartment building, but instead see a familiar neon green sign blaring at me from a window.

“Annie,” I warn.

“This isn’t me.”

“Whoops,” Soraya says, bumping me with her hip.

We’re at O’Shea’s.

“No,” I say as Claudia immediately heads inside. “No. You said we were going back to your place.”

“One drink,” Soraya insists, towing me after her. “The night is young and we gave all our money to the strippers.”

I stumble in my heels as we enter. The place is packed, the air warm and sweaty with people.

“We’re never going to get a seat,” I point out. “Let alone get to the bar.”

“A bit of faith, girls, please,” Soraya says, glancing around us. “Let’s use what our mothers gave us.”

Her gaze zeroes in on a group of college-aged guys lounging in the booth nearest us, two of whom are already watching her with dazed looks.

“Evening boys,” Soraya says, leaning in close to them. “Are you guys finishing up?”

“Yeah,” one of them says eagerly while his pal nods.

“Great,” she smiles. “Then you won’t mind us using the table.”

She presses through their confusion and in a matter of seconds they’re standing beside us, one still drinking his beer.

“Thanks so much,” she coos, discreetly shoving Claudia down the bench before they can realize what’s happening.

“No problem,” the eager one says, almost tripping over his feet to make room for her.

They move on, heading toward the bar but the one with the beer stays behind.

“I’m Robbie,” he says. Soraya ignores him, so his eyes flick to me, lingering in a way that has Annie smirking.

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “And thanks for the table. It’s very nice of you.”

“You girls wants some drinks?”

“We’re good,” I say, sitting down with a warning glance at the others. “We’re going to get some food first.”

“Goodbye, Robbie,” Soraya adds sweetly and waits until he wanders off before sliding into the booth. “Excuse me,” she adds, grabbing the attention of a passing waitress. “Could you tell Declan Sarah’s here?”

“Soraya,” I hiss but the waitress only nods, removing the empty glasses from the table.

“What?”

“Sarah’s nervous,” Claudia sings.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you looooove him and you—” She laughs as I throw a napkin at her.

“We need to eat some food,” I say. I need to eat some food. I don’t know how much I had to drink at the strip club, but I know it was too much. “And some water.”

“Boo,” Claudia pouts as Annie opens a menu.

“Kitchen’s still open,” she says.

“And so is the bar.” Claudia slams her hands down on the table. “I want something Irish.”

Annie frowns down at the menu. “What on earth are curry fries?”

“Ah here. What’s Paul been teaching you?”

We turn as one as Declan appears at the table, a dishcloth thrown over his shoulder. At the sight of him, Claudia bursts into giggles, which sets Soraya off and suddenly I’m surrounded by children.

“They’re a local Irish delicacy,” Declan continues.

Annie makes a face. “That’s what Paul said about coddle.”

“What’s coddle?” I ask.

“You don’t want to know,” Annie says with a shudder.

“You lot still out then?” Declan asks, making a point of checking his watch. “Do you not have homes to go to?”

“You invited us,” Claudia grins, leaning over the table as though to get as physically close to him as possible.

“So I did. Paul vanished a while ago,” he adds to Annie. “Your husband’s turned into a bit of a lightweight.”

“Not like us,” Soraya says, peering coyly up at him. “And on that note…”

“Ah, of course,” he grins. “What can I get for you ladies?”

“Drinks on the house?” Claudia says hopefully.

“I don’t think that was part of the deal,” he says, laughing as they protest. I stay silent, fiddling with a salt shaker.

“One round,” he amends. “And you better not have used up all your tips.”

There’s a chorus of earnest denials and Declan’s eyes slide toward me as he turns to leave, giving me a friendly wink that thankfully the others don’t see.

Annie gives me a questioning look, but I nod at her to show it’s fine and try to turn my attention back to the table.

The waitress Soraya grabbed earlier returns surprisingly quickly with a tray of drinks and several baskets of fries, the smell of which has me salivating.

I eat them too quickly and drink the slightly too sweet cocktail without complaint. It was a mistake.

By the time the baskets are finished, I feel a little queasy and I rise slowly from the table, tucking my purse in behind Annie.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” I say. “No one do anything stupid.”

They ignore me, bent over Claudia’s phone as they look up pole-dancing classes.

I cross the floor to the narrow hall leading to the restrooms. Declan’s back behind the bar and I sneak glances at him as I squeeze by, unable to stop myself. It was a mistake coming here. Alcohol and Declan do not go well together. Or maybe the problem is they go too well together. But it’s not like he’s giving me any special attention.

Thankfully there’s no line for the ladies’ room, a cramped space covered with people’s signatures from over the years. I lock myself inside and sit with a thump on the toilet seat, the world spinning at the sudden movement.

I’m drunker than I thought.

Oh man, I’m going to feel this tomorrow.

I finish up and wash my hands, avoiding my reflection in the mirror and the sweaty, boozy version of myself I’d see in it.

Promising myself I’ll switch to water, I open the door only to see one of the men from before, Robbie, waiting outside. At first, I think he’s waiting to use the men’s room, but the way he straightens when he sees me tells me otherwise. We’re alone in the hallway, the low lighting creating an almost intimate atmosphere over us.

Crap.

I flash him a quick smile and duck my head, trying to hurry past him without being too obvious about it.

“You girls having fun tonight?”

“Yep.” I stumble back as he steps in front of me.

“What’s your name?”

“I’ve got to get back to my friends.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure,” I say, trying to slip around him again. “I— Hey!” He gropes at my waist, his hand straying lower as he pulls me toward him. I turn to push him away but as I do his lips find mine, wet and clumsy and disgusting. For one horrible second, I’m too shocked to do anything and he takes his advantage, pressing me against a door as he tries to shove his tongue into my mouth.

And then he’s gone.

I gag as he’s pulled away from me, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

Declan stands in front of me, pinning a shocked Robbie to the wall.

“What the hell, man?” Robbie tries to shake Declan off, but his grip only tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“Declan?” A dark-clothed bouncer strides down the hallway, unclipping a walkie-talkie from his belt. “You alright, ma’am?” he asks when he sees me.

Not knowing how to answer that yet, I take a step to the side to better see Declan’s face. He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are on Robbie, who’s breathing hard, all bravado gone.

“Declan,” I murmur and his eyes flick to me. He’s furious.

“Let him go,” I say. Don’t do anything stupid, I want to add.

A long second passes before he does. Robbie sags against the wall, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m suing,” he snaps.

“Get out,” Declan says. “You and your friends. Now.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“You want me to call the cops? Want me to show them what’s on the camera?”

He nods to a blinking red light on the ceiling. Robbie’s mouth snaps shut. “Whatever,” he mumbles, slinking off toward the bar.

“Make sure he goes,” Declan says to the guard, who merely nods and walks quickly after him, leaving us alone.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Thanks for being all macho.”

He rolls his eyes but some of the tension ebbs from his body. “Do you want to go home? I can call you a cab.”

I shake my head. “No. Don’t say anything to the others. It will ruin the night.”

“Sarah—”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Probably because I’m lying. I take a deep breath through my nose that does nothing to help me.

“It’s not because of him,” I say, planting one hand against the wall to balance myself. My stomach roils. “I’ve had a lot to drink.”

He watches me for a second, looking torn before he takes my hand and leads me further down the hallway to a small room at the end. It’s barely bigger than a closet, with a wooden chair and a small overhead light that offers little illumination when he flicks it on.

“Am I about to be interrogated?” I ask as he pushes me gently onto the chair.

“This is where we put the drunks.”

“Oh great,” I mutter.

“Head between the knees,” he says and exits the room, leaving the door open. He’s back in less than a minute with a tall glass of water. “Sip it slowly,” is all he says as he crouches before me. “It will help.”

It does help. And I manage to drink half of it before handing it back.

“Better?”

“A little.”

The guard appears in the doorway, knocking once against the frame. “They’re gone. We good here?”

“Yeah.” Declan doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Thanks, Danny. Could you tell the party at table four that their friend’s with me? They can have another round on us.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He disappears before I can stop him. “I don’t want him to tell them that.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “An apology from the establishment.”

“No,” I say, too drunk to lie. “I mean tell them that I’m here with you.”

Declan places the glass carefully on the floor. I can’t read anything from his expression “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I moan. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean they already think we’re…”

“We’re what?”

I don’t answer. I don’t know the answer. The longer I look at him the more confused I am.

He’s still crouching before me, his face level with mine. He looks tired. Of course he’s tired. It has to be near the end of his shift. I realize then that I don’t think I’ve met a harder-working person than him. And I live with Claire. He would have spent all day working on the tour company only to come here and look after loud drunk people. Look after me.

“Sarah?”

Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and brush back a tuft of hair. I don’t miss the way he goes still beneath my touch.

“You need a haircut,” I mumble.

He smiles and when I try to drop my hand he catches it, holding it to his face.

For a long moment, we stay like that and I know I’m going to kiss him tonight. I know it. But the anticipation is nice too. The feel of his cheek beneath my palm.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says and I don’t understand him at first, too preoccupied with watching his lips move. “I know that’s what you’re scared of, but I promise you I—”

My fingers go to his lips, cutting him off. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whisper. He frowns and I drop my hand, swaying slightly on the stool. God, I’m drunk.

I lean into him and my heart races as he does the same. Then I catch it. The sour whiff of alcohol off him, the result of several long hours working behind a bar.

The mush of fries and sugary cocktails rise inside, too swift for me to fight it.

I clamp my lips together and he pulls back, concerned as my eyes widen in panic. “Sarah?”

And that’s when I put my head back between my knees and vomit all over his shoes.