This is a Love Note.

Party All Night

A drunk woman hits it off with the strong, silent bouncer at her favorite night club.

TropesGrumpy Sunshine

There are nights that call for a cup of tea, a cozy blanket, and a long snuggle on the couch while you watch Pride & Prejudice (2005) for the 8th time. 

And then there were nights like this. 

Ragers. 

‘Pass out in a pool of your own vomit while a Billy Joel song plays in the background’ kind of nights. Or was the music only in her head?

Janice wasn’t sure and, either way, it didn’t matter. She was coming to. A light slap on her cheek finally pulled her back into the world of the living.

She was outside. Headlights were flying down the street at a dizzying rate. She squinted, trying to block out the harsh lights. The tempo of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” was picking up in the distance. She was swaying side to side, humming along.

The firm grip on her shoulders tightened. “Janice, you hear me?” said a gruff voice. 

She opened her eyes again. (When had she closed them again?) Frank was kneeling beside her with his earpiece hanging down the front of his shirt. She was laying on the sidewalk outside Xanadu, her favorite 80’s-themed bar.

“Oh my gosh, Frankkiiiieeee…Hey…”

His lips reluctantly curled up. She flirted with him every time she came to Xanadu, about once or twice a month since she moved to Michigan. He was so stone-faced, getting him to crack a smile felt like winning the World Cup. 

“Hmmhm…the fire…dunnana nanana…”

He looked a little concerned as she kept humming. “Janice, I called an ambulance. They’ll be here any minute. Did you hit your head?” His hands gently felt along her forehead and across her scalp.

Man, Frank is so nice. He never said anything creepy or derogatory, or looked too long at her cleavage. And he was cute. No, hot. His trimmed black beard and lean bouncer build made him look like he could chop wood all day long. He must be married.

“Are you married?” She asked, reaching for the left hand that was still checking her head for lumps.

He let out a half chuckle, half-exhale, and looked into her blown out pupils. “No. Are you?”

Her face stretched into a goofy smile. “No. We should get married!”

He raised a brow, lips pressed tight to contain a smile. A real smile, holy cow. 

“Yeah?” He hedged, helping her sit up as the EMTs approached. 

“Yeah!” She was so excited. Most of her friends were married, now it was her turn. 

Janice beamed, then threw up on him and blacked out.

The next morning, her friend, Sherry, told her the whole humiliating story. After she threw up on him, she proceeded to beg Frank for his forgiveness. Which he gave, over and over again, as the EMTs bundled her into the ambulance. Before they drove off, she shouted her phone number at him and demanded he call her tomorrow so they could pick a date for the wedding. 

Sherry got a good laugh out of it. Janice wanted to dig a hole and bury herself so deep, an archeologist wouldn’t find her remains for a thousand years. 

So imagine her surprise when she got a call that afternoon from a random number. 

Curious, she answered, “Hello?”

A familiar gruff voice responded, “Hey, how’s my fiance doing?”

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