Chapter 4

"Dear Chantal,

"I bet you didn't expect me to write to you! I'm sorry about the way we left things, and I just want you to know how much I care for you. I know that a relationship just wouldn't work between us, but I think we could have a beautiful friendship. Please don't let that friendship fade before it even has a chance to get started.

"I'm excited to hear about what's new with you. Have you given any more thought to university, and becoming a guidance counsellor? I bet that would be an interesting career, full of possibilities.

"Anyways, I don't want to scare you off by making my first letter really long, so I'll end it here. Remember that I'll always be here for you Chantal.

"Your Friend."

She folded the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope. He had actually written. More than ever before she lamented having let him get away.

Though they'd only spent one night together, she felt as if she'd known him all her life, and knew she loved him. Perhaps he just had that effect on people. She was certain that she'd gotten much to wrapped up in the idea of having someone around, and that she would now have to get past this and move on with her life.

Indulging her self-pity for one more second, she leaned against the wall of mailboxes in the lobby of her apartment block. She closed her eyes and tried to bring her mind out of the past and back into the present time. Time... for work; she was going to be late for work!

Snapping back to reality, she sped out the door and just barely caught the bus.

Chantal's day at work was much the same as usual. She was supposed to close this evening, along with the cook, Dave. Chantal's one-word description of Dave would be 'greasy.' He was somehow able to irritate people by his mere presence, without even opening his mouth. On the whole, however, he was a nice guy- always looking for the next party.

Chantal had barely the time to count her float when he came out of the kitchen to hit on her.

"What's the matter Chantal? You look like you could use a little loving," he dripped, putting his hands on her hips and moving in close behind her.

"Screw off Dave, don't you have something to fry or something?" she laughed, pushing him away.

"The only thing I got cooking is your desire for me, baby, and it's just about done."

"How do you come up with these horrible lines?"

"I read Maxim. Looks pretty slow out here."

"Yeah, well let's hope it stays that way."

"Right, so that way the shop doesn't make any money and we lose our jobs, good thinking."

"You're a real drag sometimes, Dave."

"Yeah whatever," he called heading back into the kitchen.

Chantal chuckled a bit as he left, feeling much more herself after the rousing bout of Dave-bashing.

Despite the economic consequences, to Chantal's delight, business was slow all night. A cute couple in their late teens came in just after the small dinner rush and stayed for many hours abusing their free refill privileges. A young man came in by himself and sat, reading some kind of science textbook for a few hours. Other than that, the shop was empty.

As closing time drew closer, with both her customers freshly refilled, Chantal ducked in the kitchen to kill time with Dave. He was on the phone when she walked through the door.

"Yeah... okay... how many? Nice..."

Chantal surveyed the kitchen, waiting for Dave to hang up. It was just about eleven o'clock and hr had already cleaned everything up for the night.

"Ok, I'll see you there... yeah... later."

"Big plans?" she asked.

"Just meeting my buddies down at Motto's, you wanna come?"

Motto's was a nightclub across the river from the coffee shop. It had been years since Chantal used to hang out there with her friends. Her friends had grown out of the bar scene, settling down with their mates, and left her trying to convince herself that she'd also grown out of it.

Dave often asked her if she wanted to come to this bar or that, promising he would buy her drinks and take advantage of her. It was all in good fun, and normally she would have refused in the meanest way possible- just to get a rise- but tonight she was feeling lonely. It would be just the thing for her to go out and party for a night; she could get her mind off of Greg.

"Okay," she said, looking away.

"Look, it's one thing to deny me your pleasures, but don't tease me with it, all right?"

"No, I'm serious, let's go. Just to the bar though, you're not getting any from me," she laughed.

"Hey, just hearing about it would be good enough for me."

"Pig," she snorted and turned to clean up for the evening.

Bent over behind the counter filling the dishwasher with detergent, Chantal heard Dave call out from the front of the shop.

"You want me to turn this off?"

She stood up, closing the dishwasher.

"Turn what off?"

He was standing by the neon "Open" sign.

"Oh that, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

They left the shop together, turning off the lights on their way out. Chantal locked the door as Dave started his twelve-year-old sedan.

He shovelled some papers off the seat to make room as she climbed in. She noticed that the interior of the car wasn't much better than the exterior. The glove compartment clasp was busted and replaced with a piece of greyed shoelace.

Dave began driving to Motto's while Chantal pulled down the sun visor, looking for a mirror to check her appearance.

Her hair looked fine, but she dug around in her purse trying to find some lipstick, and maybe some powder. She had to look good, if she were to pick up any guys to sleep with.

There was a little muscle contraction somewhere in her lower abdomen as she had that thought. She wondered where it came from. It wasn't like her to think like such a slut.

Her eyes flicked back into the vanity mirror and in the corner she caught Greg, sitting in the back seat winking at her. She twisted around to check, but he wasn't there.

"I seriously need a drink," she announced.

"Amen to that, sister," said Dave, smiling.

It was approaching midnight as Chantal followed Dave past the queue at the main doors. Being a regular at Motto's had its advantages. A bouncer at a side door let them in, free of charge, nodding to Dave with recognition. Chantal tried to ignore the bouncer's appraising glance at her body and followed Dave into the pounding club. He led her on a quick circuit through the bar, eventually finding his friends' table.

Although Chantal had never officially met any of Dave's friends, there were a few that she'd seen at the café before. Dave pointed at each of his friends in turn, giving her more names than she could hope to remember and she smiled dutifully at each of them. As she'd expected, she was the only girl at the table. While annoying at first, she quickly decided that she preferred having all the attention to herself.

There was no way that Chantal had the fake allure of the bar sluts twisting on the dance floor, but she had the figure to keep the guys at the table from wandering too far- and she knew it. She'd hardly been sitting for a minute when a beer was set before her. The donor, a sandy haired guy with somewhat of a baby face, made room for himself at her side. She had a vague suspicion that they had been introduced once, at the coffee shop, but she couldn't remember his name at all.

"Thanks," she tried to yell above the cacophony.

She saw his lips move, saying something, but whatever he said was drowned out by the endless beat. Not wanting to appear rude, she gave him a sweet smile and a nod before taking a sip of her beer.

He took another sip from his own beer and set it on the table, glancing briefly over at the dance floor. Standing up, he held out his hand to her.