Arrhythmia Read online

  “Four days!”

  “Oh, say it ain’t so. You must be dying from withdrawal,” I said dryly, shaking my head.

  “I swear I am. I don’t know how you stand it,” she said earnestly.

  “Hello? I have sex! Not as often as you, but often enough.”

  It wasn’t a lie. My sex life was plenty active, and I didn’t think I needed a committed relationship for that to be the case. One-night stands offered a far less complicated alternative. You found yourself an attractive dude, explained the situation to him, and, later, quietly exited his bedroom free from obligations. Perfect.

  “Your single-night exercises in hormonal balancing don’t count,” said Vera, who was convinced that only in combination with love could sex be truly great.

  I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. “I like them.”

  Vera didn’t agree but dropped it. Thank goodness, since we could debate this topic for hours at a time and never manage to agree.

  “Shall we stroll around a bit?” I suggested after a short silence.

  “Sure. Let’s see who else is hanging out here tonight!”

  We finished our drinks and elbowed our way through the crowd, heroically forging our way up to the part of the club known as the Jukebox. The Jukebox was where they played oldies and pop songs exclusively, raising the average age a little. It was less crowded up there, and several couples were enjoying a relaxed, familiar disco dance.

  We strolled past the bars and kept an eye out for familiar faces.

  “Hey, there’s Frank!” Vera shouted and pointed to a group of young people who were cheerfully toasting one another. Right in the middle was a tall, dark-haired man with incredibly broad shoulders and an even broader smile: Frank. One of my best and oldest friends. We had known each other since the eighth grade and had gone through a lot together in recent years. Frank was the only human being—aside from Vera, of course—I would have trusted with my life.

  By now, we had reached the group. Vera greeted a blond girl named Manu like a long-lost sister.

  “Hi, Manuuuu! How aaaare you?”

  I left Manu to the screeching Vera and instead joined Frank, who greeted me with a slap on the ass.

  “So, everything OK?” He grinned.

  “Yes, for now everything is OK. But if you ever do that again, you’re asking for trouble,” I said.

  Frank laughed out loud because he knew as well as I that I didn’t mean it like that.

  “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for you!” he said accusingly and pursed his lips.

  “What? Why?”

  “So I’ll finally have a decent dance partner!”

  He gracefully extended his right hand as an invitation while concealing his left behind my back. I couldn’t resist his expectant look, so I offered him my hand and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor.

  Frank was a very good dancer, and the confidence with which he led compensated for my lack of knowledge. He twirled me around and helped me execute moves I had never previously tried.

  “So? Everything’s good with you?” I inquired while we danced a few measures in a basic step.

  “Everything’s great, yeah.”

  “Have you heard from Birgit?”

  His expression changed. Birgit had been his ex-girlfriend for the past four weeks. After an almost five-year relationship, she’d decided that she wanted to start a new life with her boss—who was, for his part, married. When she confronted Frank with her decision out of the blue, his world crumbled. I could hardly believe it when I heard. Birgit had seemed like a solid human being, and I had always gotten along well with her. It was incomprehensible to me that she could have turned out to be so cruel and selfish.

  “Well, she called last week to suggest we get together,” Frank told me haltingly.

  “What?” I cried out. “I hope you’re not going to!”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Good.”

  He smiled in a pained way and pushed me in another direction. When I whirled back into his arms, I declared with determination, “Now listen. That bitch has finally come to the realization that her gross boss man is not leaving his wife. She must have imagined that she was about to become wife number two and that a life of luxury was awaiting her. Truth is, though, all her boss wanted was to screw her. Guess she should have discussed it with him in advance. So now it’s dawning on her that she’s all alone and that she blew it with the nicest guy ever. Let her figure out what to do.”

  This topic so enraged me that I lost the beat and nearly stepped on Frank’s foot. He saved his toes by forcing me into another twirl.

  “You’re right,” he said as I spun past him.

  “Of course I am,” I replied breathlessly.

  Frank grinned at me, trying to appear composed, but the deep sorrow in his eyes did not escape me. It would be a long time before he recovered. This woman had broken his heart, and I hated her for it.

  After the fifth song, I asked Frank to allow me to catch my breath. I reminded myself to get more exercise. The dancing had made me huff like a walrus, while my partner looked like he was just up from a refreshing nap.

  “I need a drink,” I groaned, collapsing against the counter.

  “Lena, how come you’re so out of shape?” Frank teased as he motioned to the bartender.

  “Shape? What the hell is that?”

  “You’re not getting any younger, you know . . .”

  Excuse me? I gave Frank a venomous look and stuck my tongue out at him.

  Several drinks later, Vera showed up and asked me to catch a breath of fresh air with her. It sounded like a terrific idea; the air in the club had gotten so stifling that sweat was trickling down my back.

  And so we left Frank to his own devices in the Jukebox and meandered out onto the large smokers’ patio.

  There were almost more people milling about the outside area than there were inside, and we pushed our way toward a spot where we hoped to carve out a little space without bodily contact.

  Every step I took made me realize that the alcohol was increasingly fogging my mind. While I was inside, my head had felt relatively clear, but outside I was swiftly entering an advanced state of inebriation. As an experienced partier, I was aware of the effect fresh air has on a drinker transitioning from a stuffy environment. But this disorientation was throwing even me for a loop.

  Exactly how much had I had to drink? Surely it hadn’t been that much?

  My stuffed-up ears and heavy tongue proved otherwise. Damn it!

  All of a sudden I was glad to be surrounded by so many people and thus prevented from falling over. Vera was purposefully making her way through the crowd ahead of me and thus was unaware of my severely altered condition.

  “Oh look! That’s Verena over there!” Vera warbled cheerfully. “Be right back!”

  And off she went. Great . . .

  Vera seemed to know every second inhabitant of Wollbach. I had no clue who this Verena might be, but at that particular moment, I could not have cared less.

  There I stood in the midst of the crowd, like someone all dressed up with nowhere to go, swaying like a reed in the wind.

  Damn her. Leaving me behind, helpless and drunk. Bitch . . .

  Annoyed, I set my sights on a bar that was decorated to look like Mallorca. I leaned against the counter and was grateful for the support. I weakly signaled the bartender to bring me a mineral water.

  Aaahh. Astonishing how marvelous a simple water could taste!

  I sucked at the bottle as if I had just crossed the Gobi desert, emptying half with one swallow.

  The man next to me was watching me unabashedly. Once I had quenched my initial thirst, he moved in closer. “Hey there, little lady! You really should drink something a little stronger!”

  “No, thanks. I�
�ve had enough,” I replied politely, though my words were a little slurred.

  “Nonsense! Come on, I’ll buy you a drink!”

  “No, thank you. I don’t want anything. I have to be able to walk home.”

  “Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” he said. “I’d be happy to take you home.”

  Of course he would. I could see exactly what he was expecting in return.

  I took a closer look at him. Late thirties, accountant written all over him. Absolutely not my type. But it was the little accessory on his right hand that most turned me off.

  I pointed at the gold ring. “And what about this?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I can take it off if you like,” he suggested helpfully.

  “Oh, and you don’t think your wife might be offended?” I asked.

  “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  What an asshole!

  I almost smacked him but contained myself. Chastising a stranger for his infidelity was not my thing.

  The dude obviously misinterpreted my silence. He seemed to think I was actually contemplating taking him to my place. To facilitate my decision, he placed his arm heavily on my shoulder and pulled me tight against him. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered.

  Enough was enough!

  I shook him off and looked at him furiously.

  “What the hell? You’re married, dude! Pay some attention to your wife and leave me the hell alone! I’m not interested in this bullshit!” I screamed, causing every head within earshot to turn in our direction.

  What a dirtbag!

  Men were all the same. They were all constantly plotting how to screw as many women as possible. I got the thing about sex being a primal instinct, but surely the human brain had evolved enough for people to control their damn selves.

  Irritated by the male sex as usual, I moved on, without a goal.

  Where the hell is Vera? She was in for it.

  After some time, I concluded that it was pointless to look for her in this throng and I would be best off finding my way back to Frank and his group. I pointed myself back toward the entrance, but I was so tipsy that it was impossible to walk in a straight line. I kept colliding with people and being thrown off course like a Ping-Pong ball.

  Goddamn alcohol!

  At least I’d had the wisdom to forego high heels and opt for my ballerina flats that evening.

  I pressed the water bottle against my chest and focused on the door. Just a little ways short of my goal, some similarly inebriated person shoved past me. This proved too much for my compromised equilibrium, and I helplessly stumbled sideways, trying desperately to compensate for the blow.

  Before I knew what was happening, I had the sensation of being caught and slamming into someone’s chest. I gratefully accepted sanctuary in the stranger’s strong arms.

  Hmm. This guy’s chest is unbelievably cozy.

  I might have continued snuggling against this inviting stranger had I not heard an amused “Whoops a daisy!”

  Embarrassed, I extricated myself from the saving embrace, trying to find my rescuer’s face . . . and froze.

  No. Way.

  “Well, look who we have here!” the ticket thief exclaimed cheerfully. “Seems as though you enjoy running into me!”

  There I stood, straight as a pole—well, almost—and stared directly into those ocean-blue eyes. He returned my look with a soft smile, which had the most peculiar effect on my knees for some reason. While they had been unsteady before, they now wobbled and threatened to give out altogether.

  Command Center to Lena’s knees: stand still at once!

  Their obedience was limited, but it prevented me from collapsing like a wet sack. I did note, however, that this guy always seemed to catch and stabilize me with both forearms.

  My God, is he strong . . .

  Enough! Something was wrong! Why the hell was I still staring at him like a complete idiot?

  He seemed to be asking himself the same question, because he asked, “You OK?”

  Hell no!

  “Sure! It’s just that I needed to get away from there ’cause some sleazebag came on to me even though he’s married, and I was pissed. And I can’t find Vera. So I thought I should go back inside and find my other friend, and some jerk ran into me and I lost my balance. That’s all,” I blurted out in one breath.

  What kind of nonsense was I talking?

  He laughed. “Well then, you’re lucky on two counts, because not only am I not married, I’m also not a sleazebag!”

  Note to self: he’s single.

  As his words spun around in my head, the blue of his eyes held me captive while I clutched my water bottle as though it were a life preserver saving me from drowning in their deep ocean.

  Wait a second. What exactly did he just say?

  “Then what was that just now? Are you trying to hit on me?” I asked with an aggressively disinterested tone.

  “That was precisely my plan,” the ticket thief admitted.

  I brushed away his hands and made a threatening gesture.

  “You can go ahead and forget it. You stole from me today. Yes, you did. And now you’re trying to hit on me? Disgusting!” I shouted, knowing even as I said it that this was the alcohol speaking.

  The ticket thief looked at me in disbelief. “What? I stole from you?”

  “Exactly. Now you want to deny it? You. Stole. From. Me.” I underscored each word by poking my water bottle into his abdomen. A rather muscular abdomen, I might add . . .

  He snatched my weapon from me. “Just a moment here,” he said calmly. “Start again from the beginning. What is it that I’m supposed to have stolen? It sure wasn’t your innocence, because that I would remember.”

  What the . . . ? Is that supposed to be funny?

  I decided to ignore that line and instead grabbed at the bottle so I could bean him over his insolent skull with it. But his fingers held it in an iron grip.

  “You stole my tickets!” I hissed.

  He thought briefly until his eyes lit up. “You wanted to buy Pink tickets!”

  I nodded angrily.

  “Ah, I see. And the ones I bought were the last ones?”

  “Exactly. And it’s your fault I can’t go to the concert.”

  “Oh.” He looked genuinely contrite. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t get tickets.”

  He let me have the bottle. I crossed my arms and pouted.

  “Of course, that wasn’t my intention at all,” he replied with a smile so suave that it almost knocked the wind out of me. “May I buy you a drink at the bar to make amends?”

  I tried to work my way out of his gaze. “Not a chance!”

  “Aw, come on. Are you going to be this pissed at the other fifty thousand fans who got tickets?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed. “All right then, what can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Give me the tickets!”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  He scratched the back of his head, and I couldn’t help but notice the toned brachial muscle in his arm. “I’m sure you realize that I didn’t buy the tickets to annoy you. I’ve always wanted to see Pink perform live, so I can’t give up my hard-won tickets just like that.”

  Not just like that? Then how? Perhaps in exchange for some physical quid pro quo? No problem!

  Whoa there, Lena, what kind of reasoning was that?

  “Don’t look at me so reproachfully,” the ticket thief said. “It’s not like you’d give up the tickets if the shoe were on the other foot, right?”

  Of course not!

  My expression must have spoken volumes, because he nodded, vindicated. “Exactly. So why don’t we make the best of things and get out the peace pip
e?”

  Did he actually believe I would be appeased so easily? No, sir. I was in no mood for peace! For sex, maybe . . . but peace? No way!

  I planted myself in front of him, a move that surely didn’t look nearly as threatening as it should have, given my vertical instability. Still, I stretched my neck and began prodding him with the top of the water bottle again.

  “In the first place, I don’t smoke. Second, it’s not that easy to mollify me, because the concert meant just as much to me. And third”—I deliberated for a moment—“third, I have zero interest.”

  The ticket thief tilted his head and, quick as lightning, grabbed my bottle and pulled me to him in one swift move. Stunned, I landed with my nose on his chest for what was now the third time that day. I was unable to move for a moment and just squinted up at him in bewilderment.

  “You have zero interest in my peace offering or you have zero interest in me?” he wanted to know.

  “Both,” I muttered, though my quavering voice didn’t sound very convincing.

  The ticket thief laughed softly, and I could feel his entire rib cage vibrate. I instinctively held my breath and sensed a strange tingling running down my back.

  “Somehow, I don’t quite believe that,” he whispered in my ear. His voice brought me to the brink of a complete meltdown.

  Lena! Gather your wits and use them immediately! Who does this guy even think he is? Damn macho asshole.

  I pulled away and nearly toppled over backward, but he had the presence of mind to grab my arm. I hastily freed myself from his grasp, took a deep breath, and glared at him with all the disdain I could muster.

  “Listen up, sweetie pie,” I said. “Your shtick might go over well with most women, but in my case you’re barking up the wrong tree. I have been immune to Casanovas like you for a long time, so I suggest you take your pretty smile and direct it at some girl who doesn’t know any better!”

  Very pleased with my little speech, I awaited his reply. Imagine my surprise when he inquired, with an insolent grin spread across his face, “Oh, so you think I have a pretty smile?”

  Incredible!

  “You . . . really,” I stammered. “You really are incredibly—”

  “Thank you very much!”