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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “the Captive and the Dead” cc&d (v258) (the October 2015 issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book from Smoke the cc&d July - Dec. 2015 collection book		get the 318 page July - Dec. 2015 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

A Good Night Out After All

Liam Spencer

    Friends dragged me out one night. It had been a while. I had been working impossible hours. Exhaustion was an understatement. Life was lifeless. Going home after work just to take a nap before work left much to be desired. I hadn’t even had so much as a hard on in weeks. Yet, these people insisted I go out for a while at least.
    I called them friends at the time, but they were more people that I was helping out. They had just gotten their first paychecks in a while and wanted to treat me to an evening. It was nice of them, so I agreed.
    We sipped beer and wine at my place before going out. Moods were high. We laughed and talked and drank, then drank more. I’d have been content with staying in and continuing. Actually, seeing their boobs ready to pop out, I’d have been more content staying in and at least trying to fuck them, even as neither was particularly attractive.
    We took the bus. It was still rather early. The club had a few. I imagined these were people who had better things going on later in the night. It wasn’t very fun. Slowly crowds grew. Drinks poured and sipped, my mood lightened. Laughter is great medicine.

    The girls were talking girl stuff with each other when it began. A high pitched voice broke through.
    “LLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAMMMMMM!”
    It was Linda. She was a friend of my ex who had done everything possible to break us up. She was a true hater. Always negative, bitingly. She peddled misery like no one had ever done. A real pro. I braced for it all.
    There she was, sneering. Eager to destroy.
    Beyond her damn presence, that meant Samantha would be there before long. We hadn’t seen each other in so long. I was not prepared. I was exhausted.
    Linda looked over our table. I said hello in a monotone, hoping this would be short.
    “It’s been a long time! I’m surprised you’re still alive! I thought someone would have killed you by now.”
    Bukowski came to mind.
    “Ah, hatred. The only thing that lasts.”
    Conversations halted. The girls looked at Linda, then at me. Neither knew what to make of it.
    “Girls, you know you can do better than this.”
    Linda walked away. The girls just sat there blinking. Chuckles were heard in the background. Some night out.

    It didn’t take long. Linda was a huge flirt. It was early, so her boyfriend wouldn’t be around for a while. Linda quickly found a guy. They talked and laughed. She blushed. He bought and bought. They kissed. He fondled. Some of her friends came in. She left the horny guy standing alone.
    Soon their table filled. Samantha was there. She hadn’t seen me. The girls continued talking along, stopping once in a while to eye me with pity. It was not a good time, no matter the drinks.
    I got a piece of paper and asked one of the girls, Stephanie, to write a fake phone number on it with Linda’s name. Beneath the number was written “In/Out Call.” It had to be timed perfectly, shortly after Linda’s squirrely boyfriend arrived.
    The time was right just as Melinda was to leave, I asked her to give the paper to the guy Linda had been flirting and making out with. She would tell the guy that he could make a date with Linda too, if he called that number.

    As soon as Linda’s boyfriend went to use the bathroom it began. The jilted guy walked over to make the date with Linda. What the hell, right?
    Linda’s face went red, beat red. Fury. She began yelling. The hurt, angry kind of yelling. The guy showed her the paper and yelled back. Linda’s eyes went wide. People overheard the whole thing. Whispers began. The bouncers and bartender stared.
    The guy walked away, frustrated again. Linda’s boyfriend came back. She unloaded on him. He looked confused. Then fear came over his face. She must have insisted he do something about it. She really unloaded on him.

    I told Stephanie to pretend we were in conversation and sharing laughs together. Plead ignorant if any fingers were pointed. I laughed too hard to breathe. Samantha finally saw me. She put two and two together. If looks could kill, she’d have been charged with murder. It was time for Stephanie and I to go.
    Before we could stand up, the bouncers started escorting Linda out the door. She was screaming at them;
    “I’m not a fucking hooker! Allen! Do something! I’m not a fucking hooker!”
    Flashing lights of a police car went through the windows. Stephanie and I sat sipping beer and wine. Samantha’s crowd got up and left to support Linda. Samantha glared at me as she left. As soon as she was out of sight, my grin took over.
    It was a good night out after all.

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