Rebecca Caruso

"Oh no, I really can't," I protested, though the grin tugging at my lips betrayed my resolve. "I'm way past my limit for the night."

"Come on, just one more. I swear, last one," Marco coaxed, his eyes glinting with playful insistence as Eve placed fresh glasses in front of us. "I've never had a real drinking partner before. Feels nice."

I sighed, guilt mixing with amusement as I caved. Persuasive arguments had always been my weakness. "Alright, just one more," I relented, lifting the glass with a reluctant smile.

"I promise," he said, holding his glass up. Without much hesitation, we clinked them together and downed the drinks, the buzz settling in like a warm blanket as laughter bubbled between us.

"Now, I know I shouldn't meddle," Marco began, swirling the ice in his glass before taking a sip of water, "but I have two older sisters—one is married, one was married."

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Was married?"

He chuckled softly, giving me a knowing look. "One's divorced, the other's still happily hitched. But between the two of them...I think I've cracked the code."

"Oh, really?" I said, leaning in slightly. "And what exactly is this so-called secret?"

He nodded, his tone taking on that familiar hint of mischief, but there was something sincere beneath it. "Well, I've watched their relationships go through every stage—honeymoon phase, rough patches, the whole nine yards. And you know what? The real key to making it work isn't what you'd expect."

I couldn't help but laugh, more from the anticipation than disbelief. "Okay, enlighten me, Marco the relationship expert. What is it?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like we were trading secrets. "The secret... is to go with your gut."

I burst into laughter, feeling the fiery aftermath of our last shot wreak havoc on my insides like a terrible case of acid reflux. It was a harsh reminder that I had reached my alcohol limit for the night.

"What's so funny?" Marco asked.

"Maybe you're onto something," I mused, still laughing. "But seriously, 'go with your gut'? That's like me saying, 'Avoid blondes with too much filler,'" I teased, nodding toward a rowdy group of bachelorettes nearby, their veil-wearing leader mid-selfie frenzy.

Marco's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Those are my best clients," he said, chuckling. "Besides, that's why I'm here with you."

I couldn't help but smirk. "Is that your way of flirting, Mr. Relationship Expert?"

He leaned in just a little, his gaze lingering on mine with a steady intensity. "If I were flirting," he said, his voice dropping, "you'd know."

A flicker of heat rose between us, and I felt my pulse quicken. Guilt twisted in my gut, reminding me I shouldn't be enjoying this. "Would I?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice wavered slightly.

Marco didn't miss a beat, his gaze never faltering. "Yeah. You would."

Feeling the tension, I quickly looked away, desperate for a distraction. "Hey, wait! Is that...?" My eyes locked onto the stage, seizing the moment. The rhythm struck a familiar chord, pulling my attention away from him. "Are they actually playing a jazz version of a System of a Down song?"

"Yup!" Marco and I swiveled our bar stools to face the stage. "They're called The Whipper Snappers, and they specialize in incredible alternative song covers. Want to get a closer listen?"

I hesitated, glancing at the increasingly crowded area near the front of the stage. "Oh no, it's okay, we're good here."

"Oh, come on!" He teased playfully. "You've got to experience the beat up close, especially with a song like this." Marco suddenly stood up, grabbing hold of my wrist. "Let me show you the best part of being the owner's son..."

I hesitated for a moment but decided to get up, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

As he guided me through The Alcove's various sections, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The way he moved through the crowd with effortless ease, showing me the hidden corners of the bar, felt eerily reminiscent of the Copacabana scene from Goodfellas.

The smooth, almost cinematic charm of it all had me feeling like I was being swept into a different world, where every gesture seemed carefully orchestrated and nothing was quite as it appeared.

"Whoa, you know I have a boyfriend, right?" I said firmly, pulling back slightly.

Despite Marco's actions being pleasant and his company enjoyable, there was an undeniable hint of flirtation in his gestures. Although I welcomed it, I knew I had to squash any hope of something more.

Marco paused, his gaze meeting mine with a mix of understanding and regret. "The disclosure...ouch," he said softly as we continued weaving through the crowd toward the stage. "Look, Rebecca, I don't want to interfere with your crappy relationship. We're just acquaintances enjoying the night, that's all."

I wasn't the type of woman to be easily swept away, no matter how charming the distraction. I needed to stand firm and remind myself of the commitment I had to my relationship. To Christopher. After all, I had my priorities. Marco was right; we were simply enjoying the night. "Yeah, acquaintances. I like that."

"This way," Marco said as we navigated around a cluster of waiters hustling to serve a packed booth of sharply dressed executives. "They always reserve a small corner table for my father near the center stage," he pointed out.

We settled onto red-velvet high stools placed just a few steps from the stage platform, not too far from the rostrum stairs.

The band was visible, although the view was partially obstructed from our angle. The music flowed pure and unfiltered, devoid of any artificial amplification. The band members moved with genuine passion and dedication, their authenticity shining through with each note. It was more than just a performance; it was a heartfelt expression.

Marco was right. The jazz rendition of System of a Down had been captivating, and as the cool breeze continued to drift through the venue, we lost ourselves in the music. The remaining forty-five minutes of the opening act passed in a blur of effortless comfort and enjoyment.

When Buddy Guy finally took the stage, the atmosphere had shifted to an even more intimate vibe. I found myself resting my head on Marco's shoulder, the comforting music resonating throughout the venue. "This is amazing," I murmured, savoring the moment.

"I'm grateful that you let this drunk be a part of it," Marco responded, still embracing me as we chatted amidst the waves of applause when Buddy left the stage. "Tonight has been the complete opposite of what I expected. Thank you."

I smiled at the absurdity of the moment, but reality quickly snapped back—Wait, what time was it?

"I think my foot fell asleep," I joked, pulling back from the embrace. The sudden realization of how close we'd been made me uncomfortable. I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, glancing at the time. It was 11:37 PM. My attention was immediately drawn to a series of anxious texts from Chris.

Fri, Aug 31, 9:42 PM
Chris:
You still at Alcove?

10:34 PM
Chris:
Your dad called. I told him.

10:42 PM
Missed Call: Robert
(1) New Voicemail(s)
(2) New Voicemail(s)

11:02 PM
Chris:
Soooo...

11:03 PM
Chris:
Can't sleep. Need you next to me.

Fuck Me.

"Sitting for hours on end doesn't help," Marco chuckled.

"That's so true," I slurred, clumsily making my way toward the crowded bar. Marco followed closely behind. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself and calm the rising anxiety.

"Let me just get some ice water," I said, reaching the bar. I quickly ordered a glass, hoping it would help clear my head and give me a moment to figure out how to handle the situation.

Robert Caruso demanded perfection. It's almost not fair really--a father should care and value his children, but instead, he's pushed us into corners we can't pivot from.

As I watched Marco's tipsy grin, I took a moment to text Christopher back. Being in Marco's company felt oddly comforting, like we had known each other forever. Perhaps it was the drinks, the music, or simply the fact that I hadn't had a true friend in a while.

Whatever the reason, I found myself laughing at his clumsy attempts to stay upright and his stumble as he settled into the seat next to me. The ease of the moment was a pleasant distraction.

As my phone vibrated on the bar, I snapped back to reality.

11:42 PM
Chris:
Need me to pick you up?

I looked at the previous text I sent: Leaf soon. Hit caries away.  Damn, spell check.

"Cabbing it now," I immediately texted back

I gulped down the refreshing cold water as soon as it was placed before me, then took a moment to splash a bit on my face to shake off the drunk-fog. "I think it's time for me to head out," I said, setting the glass back on the table.

"Let me give you a hand," Marco said, wrapping his arm around my waist as he helped me up. The touch felt a bit too intimate, making me shift uncomfortably, but I tried to keep it casual.

"Thanks," I said with a light chuckle, attempting to regain my composure.

"Seriously, though, you should consider letting me give you a ride back home," Marco said earnestly, his hand gently but firmly guiding me toward the exit.

I managed a smile, trying to keep things light. "Thanks, but I was planning on catching a cab."

He looked at me with hopeful eyes, his expression brightening. "I'm not dumb enough to risk a DUI, if that's what you're worried about. I got a personal driver. He'll take us."

"Oh, so, you are rich?"

"It's complicated," he said with a half-smile, shrugging his shoulders. "But it's handy sometimes, especially when it means extending this evening with my only acquaintance."

I appreciated his effort but felt a twinge of caution. "I'm not sure I should be hopping into a car with someone I just met and had a few drinks with."

****
****

Authors note:
- What are your thoughts on Marco?