Sprains and Escorts - The Actual Final Draft
I had just come from a fancy dinner at L’Atelier with my family for my father’s birthday. I was wearing a maroon, velvet and lace gown. I had no intention of going out afterwards
since I’d sprained my ankle pretty severely a few days before; it was difficult to walk. My friend Alex tried her best to persuade me to come out - she refused to go to our friend, Nino’s 21st birthday party without me; he had a $2,000 tab at a local bar opened so that his guests could drink for free, and she was excited to wish him a Happy Birthday. Apparently, she had some ideas on how to get me there in one piece.
At around 10pm, Alex sent me a text message saying that she had a “boot” for me and that now I was definitely coming to the bar. She showed up at my house about half an hour later and tried to stick this “boot” on my foot. I wasn’t clear on what a “boot” was before she brought out one of those giant things from a shopping bag – it looked like a soft, boot-shaped lunchbox and had to be strapped on to my foot with Velcro. We fiddled with the thing, trying to put it on. Not only did the boot not diminish my ankle pain, but it looked as absurd on me as if I had decided to walk around with one foot in a cardboard box. I laughed and told her thanks, but no thanks and ended wore a pair of black flats instead.
As soon as we arrived at the bar, I called our friend Inbar to meet up there. She told us to come to the upstairs part of the bar. It was nearly impossible for me to even walk on my ankle and I told her there was no way I would be climbing any stairs that night.
“Hold on a second,” she told me and then hung up. Some guy appeared a minute later at the base of the stairs. He was only about two inches taller than me, a looming 5′6″ and introduced himself as Rick, my escort for the evening. I told him he could not possibly bear my weight up the stairs. He looked at me like I was crazy and then swooped me up, talking to me the entire way, and much to my relief without strain in his voice. I thanked him, and then he disappeared to initiate a toast to Nino.
Nino came over soon after and upon hearing about my ankle, brought over a chair for me and set it beneath a heat lamp. For some reason, it reminded me of sitting on Miami Beach, beneath an umbrella in a director’s chair, watching everyone else playing in the ocean. Nino thanked me for making it to his birthday, in spite of the sprain. He’s a nice guy.
Alex asked if I could make it over to the bar with her. I abandoned my chair and joined another group of people we knew that had also sidled up to the bar. Alex started a conversation while I ordered drinks. Unfortunately, though, it appeared that the tab was used up. I pulled out my credit card.
“Why are you paying?” Some random guy next to me asked. “Are you here for Nino? You know he has a tab open, right.”
“I heard it’s cashed out.”
I thought the conversation was going to end here, but it wasn’t over and lasted twice as long because he asked my name twice. It went like this:
- What’s your name?
- Tasha. What’s your name?
- Trase.
- Nice to meet you Chance. (It was noisy in there and didn’t hear him correctly)
- You know, I met another Tasha earlier and she was pretty ridiculous. You must be the gorgeous Tasha I was meant to meet.
- (I laughed a little awkwardly)
- What are you drinking?
- Sex on the beach.
- I’ll get it for you.
- You don’t have to. It’s all right.
- No, it’s my pleasure. You know, the real thing is awesome. Sex on the beach, I mean
- Is that right? I heard you end up with sand stuck in orifices you never knew you had…for weeks.
- Haha – no, it’s awesome (He extended his hand) What’s your name?
- Tasha
- Nice to meet you Tasha. I’m Trase.
- Nice to meet you Trase (I got his name the second time around)
- What are you drinking?
We went on like this for a while. Then he told the bartender he was closing his tab. He received a $400 check. He asked me if the guy was a good bartender. I asked him where my drink was. Trase announced that the guy would only get a 10% tip, then he asked me what I was drinking a second time. I told him a Sex on the Beach and he ordered me another before I received the first, then told me he’d be right back.
Alex returned, drank the second Sex on the Beach and said she had to go to the restroom. Rick appeared out of nowhere to carry me down the stairs, though I told him he was no way obligated to. He said he’d like to and so I was carried down the stairs, and then carried back up five minutes later.
Soon, everyone wanted to go to another bar. Rick once again insisted on carrying me back down the stairs, pretending to drop me a couple times to scare me. At some point, some guys on the stairs didn’t step aside for us, and one of them inadvertently stepped on his foot. Rick fell down on a stair and I screamed, whereupon told me that he’d “never let anything happen to me”. I laughed.
Then, once outside, he tried to make me wear some hat his grandmother had knitted for him. If I wasn’t wearing a boot over my sprained ankle, there was no way I was wearing a knitted hat with earflaps over my chignon.
Around this time, Alex, disappeared with my purse and phone.
Rick decided Alex was probably at the next bar and decided to pick me up and run with me down the street. I yelled at him to put me down – but he was drunk and complaining that he’d missed his work out that day and was a physical trainer.
We got to the bar and because I didn’t have my ID, Rick had to go inside to find Alex or someone that knew where she might be. While he was in there, I made friends with a couple guys outside who shook my hand upon introduction.
Then Rick appeared at the door with his earflap hat and told me he found a bouncer he knew who would let me inside. He helped me in and then bought me a 23oz glass of Stella, most of which I left on a bar stool when Alex appeared.
We snuck off to eat peanuts from a barrel – basically the only point of going to that bar was because they gave out free peanuts.
She asked me if I were ready to go and we headed out after waving goodbye to everyone from the peanut barrel.
We went back to her house to talk, and then ate all her peanut butter before she drove me home.
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