Carmela + Amos

Chapter 3 - Amos

            It was a Friday night, and music pulsed from the renovated loft’s brick walls while strobe lights flickered to the beat. Paper lanterns dangled from wood beams running across the ceiling where industrial chandeliers cast dim light onto the glossy, acid-stained cement floor. People mingled around Amos—a faint buzz of conversations and the scrape of dress-shoes in the designated dance area. Others weaved past him, reaching for snacks on the buffet table, so he flashed them brief smiles before pivoting aside.

Droplets formed around his fingers as he gripped a chilled beer bottle. He hated attending Lorena’s office parties. Nothing was worse than forcing himself to chat with the rich techies she worked with. They were all pretentious with their expensive condos gentrifying the middle to low-working-class neighborhoods.

Pressing the drink to his lips, he took a slow sip while staring across the room. As usual, Lorena was off in her world of industry talk with workmates, forgetting all about him. It was always business for her in social gatherings. At least the school faculty parties he attended were fun. People smiled.

Amos slid back the sleeve of his flannel shirt to check his watch, and time was dripping like molasses. Lorena rarely wanted to leave early. Occasions like these resulted in her being wasted by the night's end.

It was once cute. But not anymore.

“Hey, man.”

“Oh, hey!” Amos lit up with a smile. Marco was the only person he tolerated out of Lorena’s coworkers. “Fun party, huh?”

“It’s a damn snooze fest. I mean, look at all these assholes.”

“Yeah, I see them,” Amos snorted.

“All they do is talk about work. Like, this is a party, and they’re still talking business? Give it a rest! It’s a damn Friday night.”

“I hear you,” Amos replied, his eyes following Lorena in her magenta wrap-dress as she walked across the room with her coworker. She often joked how Elliot was her work husband—a term that chafed Amos’s spine.

“That guy is a dick,” Marco grunted, his gaze following them too. “Thinks he’s Rico Suave, always chatting up the ladies and looking down his nose at the rest of us.”

“I’m sure he’s harmless.”

“You’d think, but he’s a snake,” Marco chuckled, and then his smile faded. “You know he has a crush on Lorena, right?”

Amos gripped the beer bottle tighter. “I figured. We went out to dinner with him once, and it was weird. He paid more attention to Lorena than his date.”

“And yet you’re ok with them being friends?”

“I trust Lorena.”

“If you say so...” Marco sipped his drink.

“I do say so.”

However, as Amos watched them mixing up cocktails in the open-concept kitchen, his stomach flipped. Elliot’s palm rested on Lorena’s lower back as she reached for glassware in the white cabinets. When she straightened, his hand remained there while whispering into her ear. Lorena’s head fell back with a laugh, her brunette waves cascading like a chocolate waterfall under the bright kitchen lights.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” Amos announced and made his way across the room, squeezing past guests. When he made it to the kitchen, Lorena and Elliot stopped chatting. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Lorena replied.

“Good.” Amos slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a head kiss—creating distance between Elliot. Lorena’s body stiffened in his embrace, and she patted his chest before releasing a forced laugh.