Page 95 of The Bad Husband

She drinks the rest of her soda before we leave the place.

Minutes later, we approach a tiny bar with a nice terrace. I’m glad she signals me to follow her outside.

It’s quieter, and we can actually sit at the table and hear each other.

Her friends sit around the table.

One man catches my eye. I spotted him in Keira’s photographs.

This must be Nicky slash Benjamin. The guy who doesn’t like his name.

He’s tall, lanky, and wears a vintage T-shirt.

It’s a cliché, but his glasses only make him look even more nerdish.

Keira introduces me, and I happen to sit next to him.

We are sort of forced to strike up a conversation.

I can tell he’s not entirely comfortable with the idea of sitting here with me with a beer in front of him.

He seems to loosen up a little when we start talking about college and our plans for the future.

By the time he orders another beer for himself, he asks me if I’d like another drink.

He pays for my drink, and Keira looks at me like a proud mama.

I wag my finger at her when he’s not looking.

That’s the thing with shy men. They’re like beautifully wrapped chocolate bonbons.

Beyond their shy appearance lives a man who can’t wait to impress you with their unassuming demeanor and perfect manners.

I’ve always thought they were the safer choice. The crazy man who sweeps you off your feet and never follows through could never appeal to me.

Or so I thought.

All I know now is that Nicky and Damon West couldn’t be more different, and while I’m here listening to Nicky, I still get flashbacks of the man who dragged me into the basement and used my body to satisfy himself.

The more we drink, the friendlier we get with each other.

Nicky is a nice guy.

We all knew that, and since I have so much experience with his type of man, he feels confident enough with me to be himself.

Later, Keira, Nicky, Jeff––another coworker of hers––and I walk out of the bar. We call a cab and reach her place sometime after nine.

The improvised party of four continues until eleven when I signal that I’d like to go home.

Nicky offers to take me home, but something makes me say no to him. My refusal is polite and comes with innocent justifications such as I’m a guest in someone else’s home, the staff is still there, and neither of us would feel comfortable having drinks at that place.

The reality is, I can’t let him take me to Damon West’s house.

He doesn’t deserve to be harassed by Damon just because some stupid camera recorded us arriving together at his place.

I’m not saying Frankie deserved that, but Frankie, at least, had a good grasp of who Damon West was.

If Nicky met Damon, he’d probably still be in therapy a year from now.