Hearts & Arrows Page 3

  “So, what do I do?” Folding my hands in my lap as I sit down and try not to touch anything. My klutzy fingers would probably break all this fragile, feminine decor. I don’t need the added expense.

  “Well, first, how many arrows do you want? Then we can discuss payment. Keep in mind that once my arrow shoots, if the person it hits has any romantic feelings for you, even liking, those will disappear and he won’t feel anything. In fact, that person won’t even know who you are. You good with these preliminary terms?”

  I thought he was Cupid. Isn’t his arrows supposed to make the man fall for me?

  “Aren’t your arrows supposed to help the man fall in love with me? What’s with the conditions?”

  “I’m not like the fairytales you’ve read. There are conditions. I don’t make up the rules, I just play by them, sweetheart.” He shrugs.

  So, that means that I have a small change with Ian. My whole goal with this was to have Ian, my co-worker, fall in love with me. Now that there are stipulations, I may want to rethink this.

  “Umm, yes.” I muster out, still wondering if Ian is a good choice.

  “Oh, and keep in mind all initial shots are final.” The word final reverberates off the walls of the small room, and I glance around wondering if there is some echo machine. This place is strange.

  “How many arrows do you want?” He looks at me expecting to know how many. One, two, maybe three as I first thought. I don’t know, just until I have my soulmate and a date for this ridiculous party.

  “Three. Third time's a charm, right?” I shrug as he rubs his goatee. Yes, this biker-looking cupid-angel has a full on long goatee now. Was that there when I first got here? It’s almost like he’s changing before my eyes, but that can’t be. Maybe my mind just didn’t register his total look.

  “Three it is. That’ll be three hundred dollars total.” My mouth falls open. Three hundred dollars for an arrow? Really, dude?

  You’re at rock bottom, Layla. I remind myself of this and shake my head in disbelief.

  “Okay, three hundred. Do I pay cash or do you take card?” I only have a hundred in cash on me now, so I really hope this biker dude can take a payment plan.

  Maybe I should just go with one arrow. My indecision turns in my stomach like the dial of a rotary phone. I really want to get this right.

  “You think three’s a good idea?” I ask, needing a little bit of reassurance from this mammoth man.

  “You tell me, sweetheart. I can’t answer that for you.” He looks away from me and keeps rubbing at his beard. I swear the thing is growing longer as we speak. The next thing I know it’ll be peppered with grey and down to his knees. Will he age, too?

  “Three,” I say confidently. Follow your gut. “But, I only have a hundred in cash right now. Do you have a layaway option?” Reaching for my purse, I start to dig through it to find my wallet.

  “I’ve got an ATM machine right there, sweetheart. Go ahead and get the rest.” He points to the machine behind me. Again, I swear that wasn’t there before. Does the room shift as much as the man in front of me, or is my head playing tricks on me? This place is weird.

  I go to the machine and pull out the rest of the cash from my emergency savings account. That’s what emergency funds are there for right? Sometimes you need money on a rainy day, or for when you might possibly find your true love. I push away the doubts that I’m spending money on this ridiculous idea that may or may not work.

  Putting the money on the table, I sit, and wait for him to start waving around a wand or chanting some crazy incantation.

  He looks down at the money and chuckles. Is he seriously laughing at me?

  “I knew this was a mistake.” I stand up to leave, reaching for the money. He stops me by grabbing onto my outstretched hand.

  “Look, sweetheart, this isn’t a mistake. You’re so serious, and you don’t trust me. In order for this to work, you’ve got to trust me, or it will be a mistake. Just trust me—or trust your gut.” Is this cupid a mind reader? I tilt my head in contemplation as he releases my hand and rises from the table. His height is impressive as he towers over me.

  “As I said, be careful who you pick, as once my arrow strikes, then it’s either game over or game on.” He looks at me seriously, all the mirth gone from his face. He’s giving me one last chance to back down, but I stand firm. I’m here, aren’t I? I’d already pulled the money out and everything. There’s no backing out now.

  “Do you have a man in mind?” He asks as he turns away from me and walks to a door behind his desk. Again, was that there before? “Follow me while you figure out which guy you want.”

  I roll my eyes at him. Knowing which guy I want. Ian from work. We’ve been working together for a year now. He’s a sales rep. Normally, sales drives me up the wall, but he’s so chill and just cool. He doesn’t bother me, and I’m always happy to help him when he needs it. Yep, he’s very single. I’ve tried to give him vibes that I’m interested in him, but I’m not sure he’s picking up on that signal. Either that, or he’s just flat-out not interested in me. With cupid here, I’m hoping his magic arrow will work and we can ride off into the sunset together or something like that.

  “I know who I want. Ian. I want Ian.” I state matter-of-fact as I follow him into a hidden brightly lit-up, colorful room. The walls ahead of me have a ton of big LED TVs lined up to create a seamless wall. The TV’s filling up with different people. Looks like Cupid can see anyone, anywhere in the world, at any time.

  “Welcome to my HQ, where I make the magic happen. Slinging one arrow at a time.” He stretches his arms out and does a full circle around the room. Each TV is filled with tons of people. Ironically, I know all of them. These are people that I’ve interacted with, going as far back as my memory could go. Somehow, I know who each person is and what they’ve been up to over the years. It’s as if I were binging on people’s lives but its only been a few seconds, maybe minutes, that we’ve been in this room.

  “Ian, is it?” He asks me as he zooms in on one of the screens from the control panel in the middle of the room. Everything looks so techy, and yet, somehow I know how to work everything as if I were Cupid myself. But I’m not. I’m not even his sidekick. I’m just a lonely woman looking for love.

  I watch as Ian fills the screen. He’s working out at the gym. I didn’t know he even worked out. Hmm, interesting, and sexy. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought.

  Cupid picks up a bow that rests on the remote counsel. He gently nocks a golden arrow on the bowstring. I’m transfixed on the gleaming arrow as he pulls it back and it shoots it into the screen. I gasp and duck, expecting the TVs to explode when the arrow hits. The only thing I see is Ian reach for his heart and rub it as he makes a disgruntled face.

  “So...that’s it?” I ask Cupid.

  “Yup. You saw me nock my arrow, pull back, and shoot. Now, go and see what happens. He’ll either fall for you, or he won’t know who you are. That’ll make working with him a little interesting.” He shrugs chuckling to himself as he turns to walk out of the room. The TVs turn off and blanket the room in darkness.

  I exit. Cupid’s sitting at his desk with his legs kicked up. He’s reading, from what I can assume by the sexy couple on the cover, a romance novel. A Promise Broken, by Anissa Garcia. Interesting. I’ll have to check that one out.

  “So, I guess this is goodbye?” I ask, feeling a little awkward.

  “That it is, sweetheart. Until next time.” He turns his attention away from me and back on the book. The man moves quickly from one thing to another.

  I turn for the door, but stop, recalling my other two arrows. “Wait, what about the other two arrows? Do you have a return policy?” I ask him.

  “Well, if it works out with Ian then come back and tell me all about how amazing he is. If not, then we’ll figure it out from there.” He once again turns from me back to the book. I guess he’s right—I’ll have to trust him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Sha
wn, I need something strong. Stat!” I shout to my bartender buddy. I’ve been coming to his bar for the past few years since it’s down the street from work. The best thing about this place—its two dollar whiskey shots. That’s right, only two dollars for the familiar burn of the dark liquid.

  He places a shot glass in front of me and pours the amber liquid, then pushes it in my direction. He stands there assessing me with his dark blue eyes. All the while, I do the same to him, and I take my first shot. When I’d first met Shawn, he had just taken ownership of the bar. A girlfriend was the last thing he wanted. Then he got together with Cass and they’ve been in and out of their chaotic relationship for a while. I have no idea if they’re still an item, but Shawn had caught several of my tears over time—or at least his bar deck has. Shawn was always there for me when I cried tears into my Jack and Coke. I’d hiccup my way through my latest dating woes, my boss yelling at me, and all the other sad pity-parties I threw myself, and he’d always cheer me up. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said I’d tried all the dating apps. Hell, I’d even met a few guys at this bar. And no, I’m not the issue. Mostly.

  Fine, I’m picky, as Shawn always likes to point out. I truly just want a man who is thoughtful and kind. Thinking back to my checklist of guys I’d dated and notice that Shawn had poured me another shot. I greedily snatch it, shoot it back, slam the empty glass on the counter, and nod my head signaling for another. Three shots should do it for me...I think.

  He pours the third shot, and pushes the glass to me. Jokingly, he hands me the bottle. “If I give this to you, will you tell me what’s got you so down tonight?” I’m barely paying attention to him as my eyes trace the ink on his outstretched arm. The swirling color has taken me in, and I want to trace each line.

  “Maybe. I might need a second bottle if you want the whole story.” I’m not sure if I even want to tell him about the deal I made with the devil—I mean, Cupid. I tip my head back in frustration at my stupid half-baked idea from the other day and stare up at the bar ceiling praying for an answer to come to me. Do I tell him? Or do I just drink myself inside of a bottle?

  I really couldn’t have been that naive to think some stupid arrow would make a guy fall in love with me. Groaning I brace myself to tell Shawn what happened.

  “You’d think it’s stupid. So, no, I won’t tell you, Shawn. I don’t need your cynical voice telling me how dumb I am.” Trust me, I’m doing it enough for both of us.

  He pours me a different drink and pushes it towards me. I take a tentative sip from the straw, as he knows I can’t stand touching the glass unless it’s a shot glass. The taste surprises me. Vanilla Coke. Just plain, sweet vanilla Coke. I set the glass back on the counter releasing a long breath.

  Cupid, I’m cursing your name because I wasted an arrow on a guy.

  “How about you pretend that I’m not here and just start talking into your cup about your problems?” He dries off a few of the glasses from behind the counter and puts them in their place. I groan again and rest my head into my forearms on the counter.

  “See, you’re off to a great start. You can’t see me and I can’t see you. Spill it, Sleeping Beauty.” He always calls me that. Why? The first time we’d met, I’d passed out on the counter of the bar. Not one of my finer moments. He’d ended up carrying me to his room around the back of the bar and had tucked me into his bed. The next morning I’d woken up in a panic thinking that I’d somehow ended up in bed with a stranger. Turns out the stranger was on the couch and had come racing in when I’d screamed, only to start laughing at me as my dark tightly curled hair was a disheveled mess. I’m surprised he hadn’t nicknamed me Medusa. Not everyone wakes up looking like a supermodel—except Cass. That woman actually is a walking, talking model from a magazine. Too bad she has the personality of a cold, wet, dying fish.

  “I made a deal with the devil.” My voice is muffled from my face being buried in my arm. “And he saw it coming. I just know it.” I pause for a second as a thought comes to me. “He knew he was screwing me over. He knew it!” Outraged, I pop my head back up and quickly stand from the bar stool. I’ve had three shots of whiskey, and Shawn’s shots ain't small. The floor may just be slipping out from under me, but luckily Shawn’s there, beside me, holding me up.

  “Whoa, little one. Why don’t you sit back down and tell me what happened. You aren’t pregnant, are you?” His voice is laced with concern as he helps me sit back down.

  “Hell, no.” I ponder a question and it spews out of my mouth like word-vomit. “Shawn, who would have sex with me?” I ask loudly in the mostly empty bar. A few I would call back at me, and I shush them by waving my arm dismissively. Gotta admit though, it boosts my ego up a few notches, and I need it after today..

  “Those shots went right through you. When did you last eat?” He heads toward the bar and sets out a bowl of Chex Mix for me to munch on despite me not having answered his question. He continues, “And loads of men would. But as I always say, you’re picky.” Concern laced Shawn's voice until he said the word picky.

  “I’m not picky,” Mumbling as I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know when I last ate. “I think a salad at lunch. Wait, no. I didn’t eat it. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat today. It was stressful, and long, and just don’t worry about it. Maybe I had a protein bar at some point. I think.” I want to continue my pity-party for one, so I rest my head back down in my arms on the bar and try to get my world to stop spinning. Reminding myself it was three of Shawn’s shots—I’m fine. Typically I can do a few more, but as he’d said, I’m on a mostly empty stomach.

  “I have Dean cooking up some fries for you, Sleeping Beauty. In the meantime, tell me what's up.” I sit up and inhale and exhale. Keeping my eyes on the man in front of me and my stomach bottoms out, as if I were at the peak of a roller coaster about to drop. I blame the whiskey. Shawn looks nothing like Ian. Ian’s strong, fit, businessy—if that’s a word. He’s all smarts and put together. Shawn forgets to do his laundry and wears the same clothes the next day. He’s even told me that he’ll turn his briefs inside out—and that’s considered clean, according to his standards.

  “Do you have clean briefs on or inside out ones?” I ask, now curious to know his answer as I take another sip from my Vanilla Coke.

  “Today, inside out. Why?” He asks. I scrunch my nose in disgust. See? He isn’t Ian—who I’m sure puts on clean, fresh underwear. Shawn turns his inside out, thus we can’t date. Even my drunken logic sounds stupid, but I have to go with it. No use in ruining a perfectly good friendship.

  “Just wondering.” I dismiss the idea of him and take a deep breath. I may as well just tell him. I already know what his reaction will be.

  “I met a man named Cupid, who, now don’t interrupt me—” I put my hand up over his mouth to stop him from talking. “Let me finish, and then you can berate me, okay?” I wait for him to nod his head in agreement, to which he does, then I remove my hand. “Anyway, I met Cupid, who said that if he shoots someone with his arrow the person will fall madly in love with me. However, if,” I exaggerate the f a little, “he has romantic feelings towards me, he’ll completely forget who I am. Well, I had Cupid pull an arrow on my co-worker Ian, and now Ian has no idea who I am. And before you comment,” my speech speeds up so Shawn can’t interrupt me, “I gave him hints, but he never caught on. I wasn’t sure if maybe he was overlooking them or if he just didn’t know? I was hoping he didn’t have any feelings for me, so the arrow would work.” I finish with a flourish of my arms waving around me and Shawn is completely silent..

  “I’m finished talking,” I tell him as I wait for him to lay into me.

  He doesn’t. At least not yet. He turns to the opening of the grill house behind him, grabs the plate of garlic rosemary fries Dean had set down, and puts it in front of me.

  “I’ll be right back.” He turns away and serves a few other tables, getting them their drinks. I sit in my buzzed state and munch on the delicious fries, trying not to feel lik
e a dork, a bit naive, and maybe a little desperate. I thought for sure he would make fun of me. Instead, I focus back on my fries. These perfectly delectable fries always hit the right spot whenever I’m starving. My curvy body, however, would disagree with me. Carbs love to hang on in all the wrong places. My thighs are proof of this.

  I’m practically inhaling the fries whole as Shawn comes back with a rag over his shoulder. He puts both his hands on the counter around me, almost boxing me in.

  “So, let me get this straight. You paid a man to shoot another man with a bow and arrow hoping that he would fall madly in love with you? Did I get that right?” The timber of his voice sounds smooth and not at all upset—more curious than anything else.

  “Yeah, yes. That’s right,” I say as I slather another fry with ketchup and plop it into my mouth.

  “Okay. As a bartender, I’ve heard a lot of stories, Sleeping Beauty, but nothing that far fetched.” He grabs the towel from his shoulder and starts to wipe the counter.

  “But this one is true.” I feel him judging me, analyzing me, wanting to make fun of me. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I can feel you judging me. You see, I know when I’ve fallen from grace, because folks this is in, right now.” I say a little too loud, casting my arms out and then pointing back at me. “I paid someone to make a man fall in love with me. And do you want to know the best part?” I pause and Shawn’s eyebrows go up and I still can’t figure out his take on this whole situation.

  “What’s that, dear?” He asks.

  “I paid for three arrows. Why? Because,” I shake my head back and forth, not even sure what to say. “Because third time's the charm. And you know my love of things in threes.” I say and he nods his head. I tend to buy things in threes. Every pair needs a friend, I try to justify.