Part One
“The Wind Up”

Wrinkled beams of yellow light situated softly against his familiar face.
Love sheepishly grins, and she’s caught.

Grace put down her pen, turned her gaze towards the beautiful man across the bar and continued sipping her Cosmopolitan as nonchalantly as possible. God he’s beautiful. Unattainable. Undeniably sexy. He had dark brown hair that any woman would kill for, thick and slightly tousled. His arms were tanned and muscular, he was a baseball player, after all, and the green long sleeved tee shirt pushed up to his elbows hung snugly in all the right places and matched the green of his eyes. His jaw was slightly squared and his chin had an ever so slight dimple, which didn’t compare to the ones on each side of his mouth when he thought to smile. She’ll never get him. She’s too normal and way too old. At 32, Grace was single, unsatisfied, and honestly horny. Her brown hair would be dull and lifeless if it weren’t for the power of highlighting and she swore her freckles were beginning to resemble age spots. She wasn’t happy about it, and decided to go to Nordstrom tomorrow and buy herself some new makeup. Until then, a little vodka never hurt to put a little color into her cheeks. Not to mention courage into her body. Maybe she would drum up that courage to speak to him. She ordered another drink from her server and buried her nose back into her notebook where she was writing her most recent poem. Nell was late, yet again, and she was tired of it. How could she do this alone? She was desperately close to becoming a barfly! Nell was her decoy, so where the hell was she? She remembered her cell phone, and reached for her purse.

As Grace searched for her phone, Nick continued to play local superstar. He had known she would show up tonight. He remembered her mention it the week before, which happened to be her birthday, and he had purposely sent her about three too many cocktails, for the sheer enjoyment of watching her progress from shy and unnoticed to center stage flirt. It always amazed him how chicks got split personality disorders when alcohol was involved. God how he loved them! Never a dull damned minute. He checked his watch. Only one more hour before Frankie would let him go home. He wasn’t cut out for this publicity crap. Baseball was all he knew, but family was family, and Frankie needed the help and he was well aware that showing up in the bar helped Frankie’s business. He glanced back towards Grace. He was pretty sure that she was hot for him. He was flattered, but he really enjoyed the thrill of a young naïve woman, and she didn’t quite fit the mold. She was pretty (but not a knockout), and after she had a few cocktails could be quite the crowd pleaser (she had made about twelve new friends last week, but he doubted that she remembered) with her sarcastic sense of humor. He caught himself several times this week remembering the sound of her laughter. It bordered on cackling, really, but was contagious all the same. He dismissed the thoughts going through his mind as boredom, and ordered another beer. Her cell phone rang, and she dropped it as she pulled it from her overloaded purse. What the hell could women possibly keep in those things, anyway? He started to walk towards her to help her out when Sherry, her cocktail server made it to the rescue first. He ignored his disappointment. Damn, he needed to get away, play a little golf in the sun. Maybe he’d go visit his dad in Palm Desert for the weekend. He wasn’t attracted to Grace, just restless, and the Seattle skies weren’t helping. He was watching Sherry bend over to grab Grace’s cell phone, noticing her tight twenty three-year-old ass when Frankie stormed into the bar.
“You son of a bitch, Nick! How could you humiliate me like that? You have some strange twisted idea of love, if this is how you treat me, you sadistic ass! Get the hell out of my bar!” Nick turned to see the fire in Frankie explode, and had an idea that laughter was definitely the best medicine.

His lips curled very slowly into the most beautiful smile that Grace had ever seen. How could he be smiling when he had wronged this incredibly beautiful (and very young) woman who obviously loved him passionately? Damn it Nell, where are you? I need help, she thought. One more drink, and then she’d leave. She was mildly curious as to how he would handle this fiery woman. No doubt, another tawdry affair gone bad. Shit, she was nothing compared to this woman. Suddenly she felt old and ugly and unworthy. No, she would order one more. She would walk up to the bar where he sat (God how she loved how confident vodka made her feel) and order her drink directly next to him as if everything was normal. She could do this.

As Grace lifted herself from her chair, Nick noticed her gesture of thanks to Sherry for her help. He also noticed that she hadn’t bothered to answer the phone that was incessantly ringing. He didn’t have time to think any further, however, because Frankie practically jumped the bar to get at him. He moved to his right as if catching a zinger off the bat of Sammy Sosa. She tackled him, however, and he dropped to the beer soaked floor laughing so hard his sides ached. God, she cracked him up! She pounded at his chest until he sat up and picked her up with him as if she were a pillow that he was carrying off to bed with him.
“Put me down! What in hell do you think you’re doing?” She screamed, and everyone at the bar was now focused on the situation.
“Frankie, I’m salvaging what little dignity you seem to have left. You can thank me later, but for now, shut the hell up.” Suddenly, as if in an old movie, the music stopped and everyone froze. Grace apparently was a bit buzzed already, and failed to notice. She sidled up to the bar where Nick was standing.
“Um, can I get another drink please? I seem to have spilled mine all down the front of my shirt.” Nick barely survived, for some inexplicable reason, this pronouncement, and if it weren’t for his sister’s crazy antics over his shoulder, he would have offered to personally clean up the mess that she had made of herself. However, that thought led to slight arousal, so his response was short and rude, “Later!” accompanied by one of his death glares that he seemed so famous for and she had never felt so stupid and rejected in her life. She picked up her purse and left after paying her server, tipping way too much, as usual. She would never grace him, no pun intended, with her presence again. The girl was right, he is a bastard. However, as fate would have it, she left her cell phone sitting right there on the bar, where fifteen minutes later Nick answered after the third ring. This would be the beginning of many strange and sometimes down right hilarious coincidences in the life of Grace.