People have always had affairs, but it was less talked about. Today if you cheat on someone they'll most likely find out any number of ways. Suddenly you put a new, unfamiliar face in your top friends on a social networking site and you have earned instant suspicion. It's a brutal time for love in this world. What does that mean for me, I thought. Am I just throwing away something great with Allison for the thrill of a new start with someone else? Will Nicole become just as commonplace as Allison? How long can things really stay fresh in any relationship?

Those thoughts plagued me as I picked out what to wear for the evening. College parties were always so lame for me, though that was mostly because I was so shy. If people didn't come up to talk to me, I ended up not talking with anyone and would drink until I had the courage to go up and talk to somebody. Anybody. Things will be different now with Nicole, I thought. I already have someone to talk to. I finally looked at myself and said, "You're ready."

Chapter 8.

As we walked up to the club where the party was, I started to wonder what was going on. I heard a band b.u.mping some up-tempo swing and as if on cue Nicole said "You're going to love this." Everyone outside the place was dressed up like a hipster from various eras. There were girls dressed as 20s flapper girls. There were the jive cats from the 40s complete with pinstripe zoot suits, wide brimmed hats and long double chains. There were the 50s kids with their ducktails, pressed jeans and rolled up short sleeve shirts. I realized then that I was in for something way outside of my comfort zone. "Why didn't you tell me to dress any differently?" I asked, suddenly feeling obscenely naked and self-conscious. I am Adam and Nicole is my apple. I have sinned, I thought.

"I really don't think that I'm going to fit in here," I screamed, trying to be heard above the jive sounds, as we walked in the door. "Relax, you'll be fine!" she yelled back. "Come on let's get you a drink to loosen up!" I looked at the dance floor over my left shoulder as we walked towards the bar. Some girl had just been flung into the air as if she were one of those little plastic parachute-adorned soldiers, only the person who threw her was a s.a.d.i.s.tic son of a b.i.t.c.h and cut the parachute off before he tossed her. I cringed and turned away with my eyes closed waiting for the thump of her body on the ground. Nothing. I turned back around and her feet were over her head as if she jumped high off the ceiling trying to touch the floor with her head.

"Can we get a whiskey on the rocks and a whiskey sour?" Nicole blared to the bartender, who I'm sorry to say, was not wearing a bolo. Nicole looked back at me as I stared out over the dance floor with my jaw on the floor and a look of sheer terror stapled to my face. "Better make that a double whiskey!"

"Listen to that band," she said, "aren't they amazing? Have you heard music this great before?"

I was still in too much shock from the whole thing to respond.

"Here, drink this." She said as she handed me a double whiskey.

I downed the whole thing in a few gulps and as any good woman would, she immediately got me another. Before she handed me the second she said "Before I give you this, you have to promise me that you'll at least try and learn some basic steps so that we can dance at some point when you're done being amazed, loosen up and start enjoying the whole thing, ok?"

I responded with a double nod, my jaw still on the floor.

"Good, then here you go."

I took the drink, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to open them with a fresh perspective. Everyone there had something that made them cool. Their clothes, their moves, or their general 'I don't give a s.h.i.t' demeanor. The band stopped their song with a whirl of whining trumpets and an amazing drum solo. They really were good, I thought, if nothing else, I'll just enjoy the band. It was rare to see this kind of music in this city, let alone in this decade. Who knows, though, I thought, maybe this happens every night in a different place and I just have no idea.

Glancing towards Nicole, trying to make it seem like I wasn't looking at her, I noticed that she was bobbing her head side to side to the beat as she sipped her drink through a stirring straw. I wondered why she didn't tell me what we were actually doing that night, but quickly realized that I very well may have said no. Seeing me watch her, she spoke up. "So what do you think?"

"It's pretty amazing."

She just smiled like a girl at her sweet sixteen. "Do you do this kind of thing a lot?"

"Whenever I can."

Of course you do, I thought somewhat despairingly. That meant that I had to be into it as well if I wanted to stay cool in her eyes. Maybe this is how people keep things fresh, by always doing new things. I finished my second drink and had finally started to loosen up a bit. I slammed my empty gla.s.s down on the bar and shook out my body like Donald Duck always did before he played golf in the old cartoons. Head to foot, just shook out all the bad. "So how does this work?"

Her eyes lit up with absolute joy. I will always remember those eyes. "You really want to try it?"

"Let's do it."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand almost pulling it off my arm and led me to a less crowded corner. It was nearly impossible to hear her yell out footsteps over the music, but I listened, watched, and tried to catch on. Step, step, rock-step, step step rock-step. It's a hard dance for any musician that doesn't dance. They counted steps in three when the song was in 4 and it drove me nuts, I kept trying to add in another step on 4, when I was supposed to go back to one.

Step, step, rock-step, step, step, rock-step. It became my mantra as I tried to tune out the beat and just step my mantra in time. At one point I closed my eyes using Nicole to steady my tipsy body from capsizing.

"I think you're starting to get it!" she exclaimed with a grin the size of Montana.

I didn't say anything in return, I just kept practicing my mantra and hoped my feet followed. I really was starting to get it and after a while the steps seemed to somehow make sense. "No one else is doing this, though." I noticed.

"This is just the beginning. You ready for another one already?"

"I'll try."

She led me through another few steps that actually made sense with the music. She called it the Charleston. Back left, front left, front right, front back, and step. I loved this one. "See we can do this one facing each other or I can follow your feet and stand next to you." By then the warm tingle of the 4 whiskeys was starting to reach every inch of my body and I really felt the music. It was unlike anything I had every experienced before. I actually felt connected with the music. Before it was an intruder in my brain and by now it was my best friend. The piano player took a solo and I was completely engulfed inside the Charleston until the song finished and the joint erupted into cheers.

In the next song she showed me a few more moves and taught me how to lead her, though really most of the night she was doing most of the leading. She taught me how to do a few moves where I spun her around and then how to combine all of them. I was panting from exhaustion and sweating through my shirt from all this movement that my body wasn't used to.

After another jumpin' tune, the place suddenly exploded with applause as the band played the first few notes of the next number. It took a few more notes for me and I belted out "I know this one!" excited that I actually knew a piece that apparently everyone else did as well. Before I knew it, Nicole had ushered me out to the middle of the dance floor dodging the flying feet and flailing arms. "Go Daddy-O" everyone yelled as we got to the center of the floor. I felt as though all of the lights in the place had suddenly been pointed at me and the band stopped for a moment for everyone to look at the new kid in despair. After making sure my b.a.l.l.s were still there, I said f.u.c.k it and started dancing. The lights must have moved again and the band started playing again because suddenly I blended in with everyone else, raising my arms and changing on every cue of "Go Daddy-O," never missing a step.

By the end of the song I nearly collapsed. Seeing my limp body and feeling sorry for me Nicole said "Hey, do you want to get some air for a minute."

She took my red, sweaty face as a Yes and led us towards the exit. Everyone in the place slowed down into a s.e.xy mambo as we went out and let the cool New England evening air freeze the sweat that covered my upper body. I didn't care if I'd get pneumonia, for the moment it felt great.

"I think you got it." She chuckled.

I couldn't help but to laugh as well and said, "I don't think I could say that I 'got' anything, but I might be 'getting' it."

"Fair enough." she said as we sat down on the second step. It was too bad that neither of us smoked, because I'm sure in the script of our story that existed somewhere we would be having cigarettes now. That seemed to be the norm for this crowd. Booze, jazz and cigarettes. Again I laughed, loud enough to make Nicole notice.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking how out of place I must look here. Seriously why couldn't you have told me to dress cooler?" She looked at me with a look that seemed to say 'you have clothes like this?' Seeing that reaction, I felt as though I should redeem myself. "I could have at least thrown something a little bit more convincing than this." I tugged on my b.u.t.ton-down dress shirt. "Even jeans and a t-shirt would have been better, right?"

"Oh you look fine. No one here cares what you're wearing, they're just here to have a good time."

She was probably right. Most people there were in their own little worlds, whether it was a world of one or a world of two, everyone had their own place. (I even saw a world of three and commended the guy's stamina.) The band had started back into its regular fast-paced swing and I wondered whether the break into a slow mambo was for the dancers or for them. It had to be just as exhausting making the music as it was to dance to it. They put so much into playing the songs. I couldn't remember seeing another modern band work as hard or have as good a response from the crowd.

I had just caught my breath, when Nicole said "You ready to go back in?"

I wanted to say 'Are you serious? I just calmed down.' But of course instead I said "Sure" as I thought about how sore I was going to be the next day. We both got another drink by the bolo-less bartender and sat on the barstools marveling at the wonder and the energy of the place. I don't know how much more I can do, I wanted to say. I don't think I have much left in me. I decided against it, though, in the spirit of the moment as she pulled me back out to the floor. She started to do more of the leading and I let her more and more. After a while she was spinning me around instead of telling me to spin her around. I started to feel a little light-headed and wanted to go outside again, but she kept spinning me more and more and more and more, until eventually the whole room started to spin.

I woke up in the emergency room as the nurse was struggling to find a vein for the IV. Of course I couldn't have waited just one more minute until she was done stabbing me. That would have been too easy. A sharp groan announced my re-entry into the world as the needle finally found its way into the vein. "Good, you're awake," the nurse whispered, "I'll go get the doctor."

"What happened?" I mumbled groggily as one should in these situations.

"Hey Josh. How are you feeling?" Ah that soothing voice meant at least Nicole was still with me.

An "Ugh" was all I could muster up.

"You pa.s.sed out at the club and I wasn't sure what else to do so we called an ambulance. Me and a few other guys kept trying to wake you up, but nothing was working. I'm so glad you're ok." She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. My body was still a little sore from dropping so hard to the ground and I couldn't help but wince a little at the touch. She sensed my pain and quickly withdrew. The doctor walked in unimpressed with life and wishing I was a more interesting case. "Well," he was obliged to tell me, "it seems like you were just a little dehydrated and pa.s.sed out. Too much jazz and booze and not enough water will do that." I silently applauded his attempt at befriending me, but it was already too late for that. "We just want to keep you here for a few more hours to make sure you're stable and then you can go."

"Great."

As he walked away I realized how much his "diagnosis," if you can call it that, would cost me. Please, tell me something that I couldn't have figured out on my own if I weren't pa.s.sed out. Maybe then you'd be earning your salary. "You are dehydrated" does not warrant thousands of dollars in bills. For a moment then I got angry at Nicole for calling 911. How could you not realize that me pa.s.sing out certainly did not require a hospital and an ambulance? I thought. I would have eventually woken up on the sidewalk and been able to walk home without worrying about too much else. Instead, I got to worry about hospital and doctor bills. Thanks.

Nicole, fully aware of the tension that cut the room in half, came over to the bedside. "Nicole, I appreciate your concern, but was the hospital really necessary?"

"I didn't know what else to do, you wouldn't wake up. We tried and tried for 15 minutes or so, but nothing. I was worried that you were really hurt."

Her face was too apologetic for me to blame. She was just doing what she thought was right. I couldn't be mad at her for this. It was my own fault. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and realized that it would all eventually be ok. I'd figure things out. "I guess it's about time to turn in that application, eh?"

Nicole let out a chuckle, which made me laugh, and soon we were both laughing out loud. For a minute there we had a sweet little moment, between the beeping on my heart rate and the distant sounds of death pulling the life out of a too-young woman down the hallway.

We sat there not knowing what to say for a while, just watching TV, before the nurse with the bad aim returned to wheel me out the front door as if I'd been in prison for 20 years. We walked to The Charles/MGH T stop and sat solemnly on a bench.

"I'm sorry I was unappreciative of all your help," I admitted. "I just don't have a whole lot of money right now and this is certainly not going to make life easy for a while."

"I know, I thought about that as we got out of the ambulance. I just saw you lying there limp on the ground like that and nothing I did was helping and I didn't know what else to do."

"I understand. Thanks." I said with a little smile.

"You're welcome. I'm just glad you're ok." She said with a bigger smile.

Chapter 9.

We, more specifically, I, decided that I should just head home for what was left of the night. Nicole walked me home for a change and we parted with a hug and a small kiss on the cheek. I was still groggy from the mild drugs they gave me at the hospital and couldn't handle much more than that. I made my way up to my room and fell directly onto my bed. I didn't bother taking off any more than my shoes and jeans before crawling my way under the covers. If it weren't for the latter part of the evening, I would have called tonight one of the best nights out that I'd had in a long while. I laid there for a minute recounting the events of the night and playing back in my head images of me actually dancingswing dancingto a live big band. Who was this girl and what was she doing to me?

Then I thought of Allison for a moment and wondered what her night was like. Was she still hoping that I'd come around and go back to her? I debated calling her to tell her that I had gone to the hospital, though I was ok, but I realized that it wasn't a real cause to go to the hospital and then I'd have to explain why I was at the club to begin with. I wasn't ready to go through that conversation yet. Soon, though, I thought as I drifted to sleep, my mind flitting between all the characters and scenes of my life, shifted and distorted into something that only my unconscious mind could understand.

The morning came all too quickly and without much warning as I woke up terrified. For a moment I couldn't think of why I was so terrified. My shirt and sheets were soaking wet from sweat and it took me a minute to escape from the watery clutches of my bed. As I yanked my sheets off the mattress, I remembered my dream in all its ghastly horror and dropped my sheets on the floor. I'll have to go talk to Nicole about it all and see what she had to say. I gathered the sheets back into a bundle and dropped them into a trash bag like a homeless Santa's toy sack. The shower had never felt so welcoming. The water hugged me as I stepped into the tub, rubbing my shoulders, patting my back and a.s.suaging my nerves as a good friend would after a break up. 'There, there' it said to me as I cleaned myself from the night's workout on my body. Everything is going to be just fine.

As if healed by a small Chinese man's homegrown herbs, I felt completely rejuvenated after the shower. Stepping out on to the damp bath mat, I had never felt so good. Instead of the sense of doom I usually felt as I got ready for each day, I felt as though I had a purpose. I had a reason to be alive that day and it felt good. I even cooked breakfast, which I never did, and made the home version of a bacon, egg and cheese Mc m.u.f.fin. Breakfast normally only occurred with girls over or on special occasions, which were often one and the same.

The mostly blank Sweet & Nasty application was still resting on my desk like a bored cat waiting for some attention. The clock on my computer reminded me that I had just enough time to finish filling it out and head down there before the store opened its doors to the world. I bulls.h.i.tted my way through most of the application, as any good lawyer might, guessing what their jury wants to hear. "Alright," I said as I signed and dated the bottom, then walked out the door.

Carrie was there opening up the shop as I walked in the door. "Hey," I said as if we were already friends.

"Hey."

She must have had just as much of a rough night as I did because she looked terrible. It's amazing what a bad night's sleep and dehydration from alcohol can do to a person's appearance.

"So I brought this back in today."

"So I see."

"Should I just leave it with you, trusting that you'll get it to the top of the pile for me?"

"You sure you want to trust me with that?"

"Not really, but what other options do I have?" I said it in a way that was just nice enough to not sound mean, but could have still been construed as mean if someone chose to take it that way. "Actually," she added, "if you wanted to wait around a little while, Karen is coming down in about 20 minutes.

"Aren't I lucky then?"

A bland smile was her response.

"Do you want a coffee or something, I might go down to the Starbucks real quick if there's time." I said trying to be nice. "What kind of coffee does Karen drink?"

"You really want this job, neh?"

"I really want a job, yeah."

"It's hard to remember, you may want to write it down."

"I used to work there, I'm sure I can handle it."

"Suit yourself, she likes an extra hot, double half-caf, non-fat, no-whip mocha with soy milk."

I tried to keep my composure, but clearly I couldn't as I laughed. It boggled my mind to think that there were two people in the world, let alone in the city who would order that same drink.

"It's silly, right? But that's what she likes. I'll take a medium coffee."

"Sure no problem."

It was kind of exciting going to another Starbucks location. No one knew me there, but I felt as though I had some sort of connection with all of them, like distant cousins or adopted children, separated at birth into different families. I ordered three drinks, paid with a card and noted how nice everyone was there. This is a good store, I thought. I wondered what the manager was like. The drinks came a minute later and the guy gave me a tray without me even asking for one.

I thanked him and headed back up the street, rounded the corner and returned to 'The Nasty,' as I decided to nickname it, with the three coffee drinks. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed that two people were now inside chatting. Great, she's here, I thought. As I walked in the door, my heart dropped to the floor like a Foosball at the beginning of a match ready to be kicked around. For a moment, I didn't think that she recognized me, but when she saw me carrying the Starbucks cups, it hit her. "You!" She said like a villain from a Disney movie, with a voice that could have easily been Cruella de Vil or Ursula. I felt her stare from 20 feet away like a flaming arrow on course to my heart.

This is just ridiculous, I thought, as I contemplated running out the door. What was the point of working for her? She'd do nothing but try and get me back, if she even hired me to begin with. I really need this, I said to myself as I walked up and handed her a drink. "I guess this one's on the house." I said trying to keep the mood light, as I handed Carrie her drink.

"It d.a.m.n well better be, what are you doing here?"

I answered by raising up my application high enough for her to see.

"Are you serious?" she asked sternly.

"I guess I am."

"You think I'd actually hire you?"

"Maybe you're as desperate as I am."

"You can barely even make a drink right; what makes you think you could get anything right here?"

"To be fair, I doubt that anyone is as specific about their novelty cakes as they are about their coffee drinks."