Chapter Three

Lynette

 

 

I slept fitfully, with intense eyes haunting my dreams. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a decent night’s sleep. Not since before I received a notice from the bank saying they were foreclosing on my father’s bar.

Day and night, I constantly tried to think of ways to prevent the foreclosure from happening. The thoughts fried my brain, especially on mornings like this when I was dealing with a vodka hangover too.

I needed to take a shower and go to the bar. Do some housekeeping, or cleaning, or something, just to get my mind off the foreclosing, as well as those damn green eyes.

I showered, washing the remnants of the past night’s adventures and his scent off my skin. After scrubbing the heavy makeup that remained on my face, I instantly felt lighter. I thought about washing my hair, then decided that would be too much trouble. I would only be cleaning up the bar. There wasn’t any need to get prettied up.

Climbing out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and took in my reflection. Bags sat under my eyes like bruises. My normally tanned skin looked pale. Too much to drink the night before and not enough sleep were not an attractive combination.

I turned away from my reflection. It wasn't as if it mattered. I didn’t need to give the bar patrons something else to ogle at. By noon they would be too drunk to notice that I was less than a beauty queen anyway.

I started brushing the tangled mess of what was left of my curls out while I mentally ran through a tally of what was left to do in the bar. Floors, tables, the bar needed wax. The kitchen could probably do with a good scrubbing too, since Bill, the cook, sure wasn’t doing it. My brush grabbed a particularly nasty tangle. I yanked at it impatiently, pulling the whole knot out by the roots.

Suddenly the masculine scent of Gabriel filled my nostrils as if it had been trapped in that one tiny strand of hair. I closed my eyes and let myself fall back into that sweet moment.

His hands on my skin.

His warm lips kissing the back of my neck.

Shivering, I imagined his hands finding their way up my thighs and under my dress.

I couldn’t stop thinking of his kiss, the way his mouth felt against mine, questioning, seeking.

I sighed, toweling off the remaining drops of water and shook the thoughts away. I didn't have time for daydreams.

Not today or any day.

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and left the bathroom. It was still early, but I could tell that it was going to be another scorcher day. I tugged on my usual work clothes. A pair of cut-off jeans and a tank top. After a moment of thought, I slipped on a slightly stained white undershirt instead. With all the dirty work I needed to do at the bar, I didn't want to mess up something nice.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the gold clutch caught my eye. Why had I left it on the bar? Did I unconsciously want him to follow me? I could still see his eyes. They had been so bright and intense when he looked at me.

Shaking my head, I shoved the purse in a drawer and slammed it shut. I had too much on my plate to waste time fantasizing about Gabriel from last night. I shoved my keys into my pocket and slipped out of my bedroom door.

Tiptoeing down the hall of the small apartment, I bypassed the living room. My father's deep snores echoed in the tiny space. I grabbed my sneakers and went out the front door, locking it gently behind me. Nothing angered my father more than being woken up from an alcoholic haze. I wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with him this morning either.

Outside the humid air was already heating up. Thank goodness the bar was only a few blocks away from the apartment. It didn’t take long before the short walk was over, and I was on the front steps of the Speakeasy Bar.

Our bar was an absolute dive. I knew that. Everyone in town knew that.

The damn place had been forced on me after my father had gotten too messed up to run it by himself. Unlocking the door, I let myself in. The air was musty and stale in the weak morning sunlight.

Turning on the lights, I looked around. Most of the booths had ripped seats with the stuffing falling out. We couldn’t afford to repair them, much less have the booths replaced with new ones. I would need to cover the new rips with tape before we opened. Like I did every morning.

I wondered, not for the first time, if I should just let the bank take the place. Ashamed for thinking such a negative thought, I shook my head and settled down to work. A long while later, the bell rang alerting me that someone had entered the bar.

Shit! I forgot to lock the damn door!

“We’re closed!” I yelled out.

I’d been cleaning for hours and was sweating. I wiped my brow with my forearm and came out from the back of the kitchen. I hurried to the cash register to make sure it was locked. I didn’t need to be robbed on top of everything else.

In my hurry, I bumped the shelf behind the counter, knocking off a photo of my brother, Terry and his unit. Brother-in-arms, or something like that. I groaned as I picked up the frame and wiped the glass with my hand.

“What the fuck.”

My voice failed me as I stared wide-eyed at the picture. Crouching beside my older brother was none other than Gabriel from last night.

“You son of a bitch,” I muttered and shook my head.

I heard the door slam shut and footsteps approached. I placed the frame back on the counter and ran my fingers through my hair, bunching it up at the crown of my head. I was exhausted and frustrated as hell.

“I'm sorry but we're closed,” I said as I turned around and stopped mid-sentence.

He’d combed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes were clear and wide with shock. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans with a starched, white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. He leaned on the cane with one hand while the other held a gift-wrapped box.

“I'm looking for Lynnette,” he said softly.

The sound of my real name sent a hot shiver through my body.

My eyes flicked back to the picture on the bar. To the photo of my brother in the Army with his unit. There standing next to him in the photograph was the man who stood before me now.

“You’re this Gabriel,” I said, holding up the photo and pointing to it with my other hand.

He nodded and swallowed hard.

“And you’re Lynette? You look different.”

“Different than I did last night? Yeah well, you clearly had a different objective then,” I snapped.

Heat rushed to my face.

Last night had obviously been some sort of set up. He’d known who I was all along and played me like a fool.

He lifted the hand with the cane using two fingers to signal peace.

“No, I meant different from your picture.”

He sat the box down gently on the nearby table. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, he took a folded picture out and handed it to me.

I took it from his offering fingers. The picture was from my high school graduation. Nearly eight years before. I handed the picture back to him and he shook his head.

“No, keep it. It's yours. I should’ve never had it in the first place.”

I refolded the picture and pushed it into my pocket.

“I've grown up a bit since then.”

“I can see that.”

I sighed in disgust and shook my head.

“What the hell are you here for? Putting flowers on a grave for real?”

He pushed his hair back with his free hand.

“Can I sit down for a minute?”

I crossed my arms, wary of his presence.

“Terry's been dead for three years. Why are you here now? You didn’t even come for the funeral.”

He let out a long breath.

“I couldn't come sooner. Could we please sit down?”

“Fine,” I sighed and motioned to the table. “What were you doing at the club last night?”

“I just went for a drink, I swear.”

“Right, so you didn't know I was going to be there?”

“No, I didn't,” he said and glanced up at me. “How could I have possibly known that? Could you please sit down so that I don’t have to look up at you?”

My face was an immovable mask as I sat, but I could feel my heart pounding against my chest.

Gabriel was really here.

His green eyes were locked onto mine as I slid into the chair across from him. I looked at the box he had set on the table just to break his steady gaze.

“So,” I said, fighting the shake in my voice. “What were you really doing there? Did you follow me to the club or something?”

“No! That was a coincidence. You saw how close it was to the hotel. I just wanted to have a couple of drinks before I had to do,” he motioned to the bar, then to me, “this.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You didn't have a problem doing “this”,” I said pointing at myself, “last night. You expect me to believe that you had no clue who I was?”

“No, I didn’t. Please believe me. If I had known.” He shrugged. “I'm not some sort of spy.” There was a slight edge to his voice, to match my own.

“I'm supposed to believe you? That it's just a big coincidence. The girl you're here to see just happens to be in the random club you went to. Yeah, right.”

“I'm telling the truth. I just got lucky. I'm sorry. I didn't even know who you were. You told me your name was Lynn. And it’s not like there’s a ton of bars in this town.”

“Well, I thought you were just some guy trying to pick up a girl to fuck,” I hissed back.

“I wasn't. I told you last night that we didn't have to do anything.”

“I only agreed to sleep with you because I thought I was never going to see you again.”

“Thanks a lot!” Gabriel threw his hands up in exasperation. “This really isn't how I wanted things to go.” His eyes flicked away from me as he continued. “I came here to apologize to you.

“About what?” I asked and crossed my arms like a pouting child.

“About Terry.”

A chill ran through me. Even after three years, my brother's death still rattled me. Even though he had left me with this mess to deal with to run off to the Army it still shook me.

When I spoke all the venom was gone from my voice.

“There's nothing left to talk about, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. He's gone and he’s never coming back.”

“There is more to talk about,” he said, looking away.

I scowled and tilted my head at him.

“And what would that be? The past can’t be changed.”

His eyes were filled with pain and regret, but I wasn't sure whether it was genuine, or if he was just a big fat liar. When he hesitated, I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

“Your brother’s death for one thing.”

“You’re here to talk about Terry’s death?”

“Yes.”

“Were you there with him?”

“Yes, I was.”

I didn't expect his answer to be yes, nor did I expect the lump that had instantly formed in my throat. I blinked the unexpected tears away.

“And?”

“It was all my fault.”