Chapter One

January 1, 2005

I never thought I was an ass girl. Sweet, little, boring me, Megan Sayla, an ass girl.

Let me explain.

Arms have always been my favorite male feature. When a man has big, muscular arms, it makes me feel secure and safe like I did when I was a little girl and Daddy scared off the boogie man. Yes, it’s completely a throw back to Freud but so what?

Beautiful, strong, lovely arms. This was why I loved basketball. Dribbling and shooting those balls for hours on end could sure build some mighty fine arm candy and I think the San Antonio Spurs has the best in the league.

Now, you may ask why all this would be important? I’ll tell you.

There I was, in the women’s bathroom of Cheesecake Factory on New Year’s Day, just trying to escape the rowdy bunch I have the pleasure of calling my family when I heard a voice outside the door.

I poked my head out and there, before me was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, at least from behind.

“I am gonna run over you with my car, Patrick,” he talked in a hushed tone. “How could you even think for one minute I would be attracted to this girl?”
     Adonis was the first name that came to mind. Yes, I know calling a man the god that all the other goddesses fought over because he was so hot a bit dramatic. Now, remember I had no idea what his face looked like, but who cared? He had a great butt.

Enough of a great butt to make me want to reconsider my favorite male body part.

I could get very used to having someone as good looking as him in my life, instead of the losers who always seemed to fall into my way.

I’d already decided this would be my year to make major changes and shake things up with my life. One of the first being getting rid of a lot of dead weight, approximately two-hundred-forty pounds, in the form of my deadbeat boyfriend, but that story comes later.

Oblivious to my presence, Adonis continued to talk on his phone and that gave me more time to gawk.

It also gave me a great excuse not to return to my table. I was avoiding my family, not only because of the loud conversation, but because I was about to embark on a journey that would make everyone wonder if I’d hit my quarter-life crisis. My family wasn’t big on change and this would definitely be change.

I hadn’t talked to anyone about it yet, not even my best friend, Lydia. I knew if I did, they’d all laugh at me, try and talk me out of it, or say something discouraging like “Megan, you’ve done this so many times before, I’ve lost count. Have another donut”.

I didn’t need that right now, especially the donut. What I needed was encouragement and pats on the back and “good for you Megan,” but I knew I wouldn’t get that, at least not today. I knew if I told my family about my long-term plans before I had them set and prepared, they would just weigh me down and screw up my chi.

That’s one of the frustrating things about family. Everyone falls into a certain category - the overachiever, the work-a-holic, the good wife, the suck up, the black sheep, and the doormat. That was me, the doormat. The person everyone always took advantage of, the person who was always volunteered for things without being asked if they were busy, the person no one asked their opinion because everyone always assumed the doormat would agree with whatever was decided. And the doormat, I mean I, usually would.

Everyone seemed to like their position in the family and everyone seemed to like everyone else’s position in the family. Everyone, except me.

Besides, today wasn’t appropriate to talk about my New Year’s resolutions. Not in my family because today was about getting together, getting drunk, and getting full.

Every New Year’s Day, rain or shine, hangover or not, my family meets at the Cheesecake Factory in Dallas to celebrate a New Year and as my Grandfather puts it, “be thankful we weren’t stupid enough to be killed in the last one and make the Darwin Awards Top Ten.”

Along with my parents and brothers, everyone on my mother’s side of the family, including mother’s parents, my over achieving cousin, Samantha (or Sam as everyone called her), and underachieving me would sit there and listen to Grandpa reminisce about life in America after his parents immigrated right before World War I.

Usually, it’s a touching moment when he makes that speech.

After Grandpa’s emotional outpouring, we all raise our glasses and say “A toast to another year.”

Then he’d lift his almost empty scotch glass and yells, “Skål”, which is “cheers” in Danish by the way, and then we all yell “Skål!”.

A few women trying to enter the restroom snapped me out of my trance.

“What is she doing?” one whispered to her friends.

I looked at them and pointed to Adonis.

He shifted his feet. “What’s the score again? Are you kidding? Man, I wish I were watching the game.”

The women gave me mischievous smiles and approving nods before slipping past me to enter the restroom.

I knew my family must be wondering why I had been in the bathroom so long. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family very much. I know anyone at that table in there would give me a kidney if I needed it, but today, I felt on edge with them.

Except for Sam.

She nudged me while she pretended to listen to her father tell another hunting story. “Are you alright? You’re acting, weird.”

I wanted to tell her all my plans, everything I’d set into motion because I knew she would be unconditionally supportive. She always had been, but not here, not at the table. “Can you come over later today? I have to talk to you about something.”

She’d scrunched her forehead like she does when she’s worried. “Sure. Anything you want me to bring?”

“Yeah, one of those natural, detox smoothies.”

“Man,” she exhaled. “You must really have something major to talk about.”

Sam would be considered a health nut. She exercised everyday, she didn’t eat anything with sugar in it, and she rarely ate any processed foods.

I, on the other hand, would be considered a sick seed. I hadn’t exercised since gym class in high school, didn’t eat anything without sugar, and processed foods were a staple for me. This was why I weighed fifty pounds more today than when I graduated from high school twelve years ago.

Hearing Adonis bark, “You are a rat bastard,” into his phone, reminded me I was still standing there and should get back soon.

He leaned against the wall as a few women were leaving. I tried to move but my feet were firmly planted. Apparently, I wasn’t ready to return to my table, so I just stood there in the doorway and served as a doorstop.
     Adonis still held the phone tight to his ear, which gave me time to scan him properly.

He had broad shoulders and his toned body tapered to a nice, small waist. He smelled of, ohhhh, Bulgari.

Even if he has the face of Rosanne Barr, I’m still completely hooked.

He suddenly stood up straight. “Not that bad? She hasn’t stopped talking about herself since she found out I’m going to medical school. I had to fake a phone call just to get away from the table.  

“I know she’s blonde, cute, but come on, shut up for a moment or at least ask me a question every once and awhile. I mean, I don’t care what your zodiac sign is.”

I’m guessing Patrick asked what the cute, blonde date was doing because Adonis peeked around the corner and said, “I’m not even at the table, so she's talking to our server.”

He stepped back and continued, “She has these huge earrings that are distracting as hell and about ten pounds of rings on. She just keeps talking and talking about all these things she wants to buy and how big her house is going to be when she gets married. What kind of psycho talks about that kind of stuff on a first date?”

A loud cackle came out of the phone and then there were barely audible sounds.

“I don’t care that she’s into that…really? She said she does that?” He leaned against the wall, leaving plenty of room for me to get by.

I could casually walk by him but now my curiosity had gotten the better of me. I wanted to see how this phone conversation would turn out.

Wait. Cute? Blonde? Big earrings? Lots of jewelry?

And then I realized who he was.

Earlier, while I’d tried to numb my mind and let my family’s conversation wash over me, I’d noticed a very animated, perky blonde and her date as they were seated at a corner booth only about fifteen feet away. She sat with her back to me and before their waiter was two feet from their table, she began to talk. She was apparently telling her life story to her date because he hadn’t said anything except his drink request since they sat down.

He smiled and nodded frequently as he unsuccessfully tried to join the conversation. She didn’t even pause when  he looked out the window, ran his fingers through his hair and tapped his spoon on the table.

If I hadn’t heard her speak, I’d assume she was signing.

Her hands moved feverishly in the air during her conversation.

If she’d shut up for a moment, she’d notice he’s not paying attention to her.

Finally he settled into a slouch.

I was intrigued.

The girl seemed to like listening to herself talk and didn’t see her date looking around the room and politely nodding intermittently.

And from what I could see of him, he was HOT. His wavy chestnut hair gently caressed his ears and perfectly shaped his face. 

“What are you looking at?” Sam whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

I subtly pointed to the guy in the corner.

“Brown hair, broad shoulders, pressed shirt.” She shifted to get a better view just as the guy rested his face in his left hand.

She looked at him without gaining the attention of our mothers. “No wedding ring I can see. He’s not wearing fifteen pounds of gold necklaces and he doesn’t seem to have an unkept sternum carpet.”

“Sternum carpet?”

She pulled the collar of her shirt down slightly. “Unruly chest hair, you know, like Bigfoot.”

“Bigfoot? Are you serious?”

Sam gave him a casual glance. “He just may be a keeper.”

I sighed. “It’s only a fantasy though.”

“Pa-leeese, Meg. I bet he would be plenty interested if you let him meet you.”

“You might be right, he might be interested.”

“See, now you’re talking.”

“And monkeys might fly out of my butt.”

She shook her head. “If you gave it half a chance I just bet he’d be crazy about you.”

Besides being my cousin, I loved her because she was always so positive about me.

“You’re dreaming and it doesn’t matter anyway, I am dating someone else.”

She rolled her eyes. “More like something else.”

“Something like…Bigfoot?”

She threw her hand in front of her mouth to keep from spitting her drink. “Damn. You see, you’re hysterical. Why wouldn’t a guy like that?”

I lifted my margarita and stirred it with the cerrano pepper I had them add. (I call it a Hot Margarita.) When I lifted it to my lips I knew my mother wouldn't be able to see what I said. “Yes, she’s so funny and has a great personality. What do you think of when someone says that to you about a person they want you to date?"

"First, I don't date women."

"Alright. He's so funny and has a great personality."

"Right, but still..." She looked at me and looked at him again. I started to get a little worried because her eyes lit up and she had that “I’m thinking of a fabulous plan” look on her face. “How about ten bucks that he’d be interested?”

“Ten bucks. I could use an extra ten bucks.”   

“And besides, I’d hate for you to experience monkeys like that before childbirth.”

What did I have to lose? It was the New Year’s Day when goals were made and changes were started - after the hangover wears off. Besides, the possibility of me actually meeting him before we left the restaurant was remote. I had no intention of introducing myself and he was on a date, whether he wanted to be on one or not.

“Sure, why not?”

But it didn’t stop me from wondering who he was. What his name was, what he did for a living, what kind of steak he ordered…

Crap! Food again! What’s the deal? Did I mention I love food, more specifically, I love to eat when I’m stressed out?

He rubbed his neck and pulled out his cell phone, quickly excusing himself from the table. As he walked by our table, Grandpa blurted out, “You know I had to get one of those colonoscopies last week?”

I’m not sure, but I’m almost positive I saw him smile.

I caught a glimpse of him. His skin looked soft to touch but his face was chiseled with a strong jaw line and his eyes were an incredible rich blue. No visible warts, big moles or big hairs on his forehead. He does so not have the face of Rosanne Barr.

Now, thirty minutes later, here I was, staring at Adonis’ ass and avoiding my family.

I took a deep breath. I bet you could bounce a quarter off those butt cheeks.

None of the guys I’ve ever dated had cheeks like that. Come to think of it, none of my former boyfriends were guys, they were boys and I seemed to keep picking the wrong ones for me. There was the playboy, the convict, the slug, the two-timer, the mamma’s boy, and the slimeball who had all broken my heart and worked me over.

“No more,” I’d told myself and then quit dating for a few years. It gave me time regroup and pull my head out of my butt. A few months ago, I’d decided my hiatus had been long enough and it was time for me to get back into life. I started dating my on-and-off-on again boyfriend, Carl. That couldn’t have been more of mistake but it got me to thinking.

This time I wanted to date a man. A real, hard working, strong, good-looking, has a job, doesn’t have a record man, doesn’t live with his mother, doesn't admire Hannibal Lecter, thinks for himself man.

Hopefully, one was standing here in front of me but alas, I doubt I’d ever meet him.

Why you ask? He’s standing right there, you say? Did I mention I’m a big chicken when it comes to dating? I’ve never asked a man out and I didn’t intend to start today, New Year’s resolution or not.

He shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got to talk to her at some point. She’s driving me nuts. You got me into this and you’re going to get me out.”

Adonis listened for a few seconds before his neck suddenly turned red.  He snarled, “You’re a piece of shit, you know that…” as he turned around and then he saw me.

Damn.

He stood there.

I felt like I had been caught peeking in his bedroom windows while he was naked. I casually remarked, “Is it safe to come out now?”

He slammed the phone closed and shoved it in his pocket.

(this is still awaiting final approval and is not final edit)