He wouldn't listen when I tried to explain; as if I needed to excuse myself for being good at what I did. He was just too wrapped up in his career- and the promotion he felt he should've gotten- to admit someone could excel without brown nosing. I honestly believed that even the woman he claimed to love was trying to screw him out of what he deserved.
God knows how much I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Even after he tore my heart apart, I would've given anything to be close to him again. He was where I felt I belonged. He was home to me.
Where's home now, Kate? I asked myself as I looked in the mirror in Susan's bathroom.
I couldn't answer anymore, though. I didn't really know. The better part of five years had been spent looking for that elusive place called home and believing I'd found it with Andre. Now, I was lost again; looking for something I was beginning to think didn't exist.
"Someone else is driving tonight," I announced, turning away from my reflection with a forced smile. "I want to get so drunk I don't even know my name."
Susan laughed. "That's the spirit. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. The Three Amigos back together again, wreaking havoc on the lives of single men everywhere. I wonder if we should get tattoos tonight."
I glanced at Holly, wishing I could be a petit blonde with huge doe eyes just like her. I knew Andre would never hurt someone so kind and soft-spoken. Holly dripped honey every time she spoke, but not the phony way most people try to be. Holly was truly a gentle woman that no one could hate.
I then turned to my other friend, Susan. I knew full well Andre would have rather faked his own death than confronted her. She was an Amazon with deep brown hair and sharp blue-green eyes that could turn a grown man into a babbling mound of gelatin. She was what I strived to be; empowered and independent.
Of course, at this point in my life, being anyone else would have been preferred to who I was.
"So," Susan demanded impatiently. "The tattoos?"
"Only if Holly's is a sign on her chest that says 'this side up for sex,'" I teased.
"And yours is going to be a doormat that says 'Welcome, losers.'" She shot back.
Taking Holly's car, we drove an hour, turning down a few dark roads until we reached an unpaved one leading to what looking to be a field, but since there was no moon and no street lights, I couldn't be sure. Finally, the glow of neon lights shined down on what appeared to be red barn. Ten minutes later, the three of us standing in what can only described as the single most country bar I've ever seen in my life.