“Affirmations and visualizations are next. Have fun.”
She glanced at him one last time before she walked away. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but that often happened. She taught hundreds of students every year, of all ages, races, and backgrounds. She hoped he hadn’t been one of them.
At Tony’s Tavern an hour later, Sheila ate her mushroom-and-Swiss burger. Greasy food had become a ritual for her after her weekly SAA meetings. Something about all the sex-addict talk made her crave comfort food, and Tony’s burgers fit the bill. The tavern was only a five-minute drive from the church, and the dim lighting and classic rock booming over the loudspeakers made it the perfect place to pig out unnoticed.
Taking a big bite of her burger, she observed two women sitting at the bar. One sported a miniskirt and high heels; the other wore a top so low her red lace bra was showing. They were attracting a lot of attention from the workingmen who frequented Tony’s, all of whom they shot down with sarcastic barbs.
Sheila understood what they were doing all too well. Whatever their stories might be, these women were here for validation. They weren’t necessarily looking to get laid, though someday that might change.
A tall, well-dressed man took a seat beside them at the bar. Sheila recognized him immediately from the SAA meeting-Fifty Bucks Guy. The two women stopped talking long enough to check him out while he ordered a drink. The blonde with the low-cut top puffed out her chest and gave him an obvious once-over, but he didn’t even glance her way.
Sheila took another bite of her burger and three slices of greasy mushroom fell into her lap. Swearing under her breath, she picked them out of her napkin, popping them quickly into her mouth. She looked up to see Fifty Bucks Guy watching her from the bar with a sardonic grin. He gave her a small wave.
Reflexively, she lifted a hand in response. Instantly she regretted it. She watched in dismay as he hopped off his barstool to make his way over to her. Miniskirt and Tight Top watched with disappointment.
Despite herself, Sheila couldn’t help but feel a tiny thrill at his approach. Validation.
He was better looking than she remembered. A little paunchy around the middle perhaps, but she liked his hip, stylish look. He walked with a slight limp and she wondered what was up with that. Not that she was interested, of course.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier,” the man said when he reached her table. He leaned down so she could hear him over the loud din. She caught a whiff of his cologne. Expensive. “I’m James. I was just at the meeting.”
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I remember. Fifty bucks.”
“I didn’t catch your name.” He held his hand out.
She shook it, not bothering to hide her reluctance. “Stella.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Stella. Mind if I join you? There don’t seem to be any empty tables and-” He turned to look at the seat he’d just vacated, now occupied by an older man trying to pick up the two loud women. “It looks like I’ve lost my seat.”
Sheila looked around the room. He wasn’t lying, every single table was full except hers. Forcing a smile, she acquiesced.
“Don’t worry, I have no desire to talk about the meeting.” He sat down heavily in the rickety wooden chair. “In fact, we don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to. I just need to get some food in me and I’ll be on my way.” He signaled the waitress.
Sheila felt bad. Was she being bitchy? Maybe a little small talk wouldn’t hurt.
“Where are you from?” She attempted a more natural smile. “I can’t place your accent, but it doesn’t sound like Ohio.”
Up close, James was handsome. Nice, even features. She wasn’t a fan of facial hair, but the goatee suited him, and something about his presence was very masculine. He sat with his legs apart, leaning away from her. It made her want to move closer. A small scar was under his eye, and she had a sudden urge to take off his glasses and run her finger over it. She forced the thought from her head.
James grinned and took a long sip of his beer. “You remembered. Damned accent gives me away every time.”
“Australia?”
“New Zealand.”
“A Kiwi. Very cool.” Sheila took a bite of her burger and lost a few more mushrooms. “Damn. This burger is good but so messy.”
The middle-aged waitress approached, harried, her bright red hair frozen to her head under what looked like three coats of cheap hairspray. “Another Sam Adams? Or something to eat?” She was addressing James, her voice hoarse from either too many years of smoking or too many years of shouting in loud bars. Probably both. “Make it quick, I’m on break in two minutes.”
“Hi, Jean,” James said, reading the name off her tag. He gave her a winning smile. “I can be quick, but I thought you gals liked a guy to take his time.”
Jean’s eyes widened in surprise. Finally, she burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me.”
James pointed to Sheila’s plate. “I’ll have what she’s having. And another beer.”
“Mushroom Swiss.” Jean scribbled on her little notepad. “Good call, it’s the tastiest thing in the joint. Except for you, maybe.” She winked at him. Still smiling, she said to Sheila, “Another Diet Coke for you?”
“Please, with lime,” Sheila replied, amused.
“Diet Coke with lime?” James said once the waitress had left. “You sure go for the hard stuff.”
“I don’t drink,” Sheila said, refraining from adding anymore.
“Ah.” His gaze moved to the large TV screen behind her, one of the many that were bolted to the walls. ESPN was showing football highlights, and Sheila couldn’t help but think that if Morris were in town, he’d be watching the exact same thing.
James didn’t seem particularly interested in conversation, but the silence felt awkward to Sheila.
“So, James.” She leaned in toward him, catching another whiff of his cologne. Without meaning to, she inhaled deeply. Damn, he smelled good. It was a little unsettling-she’d always been a sucker for great-smelling men. Morris always wore cologne when they were together. Come to think of it, something about James’s scent reminded her of her fiancé. Assuming there was still a wedding, of course. “How long have you been in SAA? ”
James raised an eyebrow. “Thought we weren’t going to talk shop.”
Sheila smiled. “You said that, not me.”
“Fourteen months. What about you?”
“Longer than that.” She pushed her plate away. “Is it helping you so far?”
He started to answer but was interrupted by Jean.
“Thank you. That was quick,” he said, then winked at the older woman as she set down his food and beer. She winked back, a blush seeping into her wrinkles.
When she left, he said to Sheila, “I think so. Maybe not in the traditional sense. It hasn’t been easy. But I’m better than I was.”
“Better in what sense?”
“For starters, I no longer pay for sex.”
She wasn’t surprised. She figured it was something like that.
“I had a problem with prostitutes,” he continued, dumping ketchup onto his burger.
He had long fingers, artist’s fingers, and they reminded her of Ethan’s. She felt a tingle go up her spine, thinking about what fingers like that could do. Stop it.
“It pretty much ended my marriage,” he said.
“Not too many wives can handle that.” Sheila’s smile was sympathetic. “Good for you for getting help.”
“Can I be honest?” James munched on a fry. “I don’t think I would have stopped. Not even after Cheryl-that’s my ex-left me. It was the money that did me in. I was seeing two, three women a week who charged three hundred bucks a pop. I don’t make enough money to afford that indefinitely.”
Jean came back, paying particular attention to James. Sheila watched with amusement as the waitress batted her well-coated eyelashes, giggling like a schoolgirl. Apparently Sheila wasn’t the only one who found James attractive.