Two weeks later, and there’s been no reply to that one text. It’s radio silence central at the Sharp residence.
I’ve buried myself in work in order to distract myself from falling down the rabbit hole of self-doubt and second-guessing. Whatever Jeff has needed help with, I’ve been there. So much so that he’s virtually handed over complete managerial control to me in the interim while he finalizes the sale of the business. At least that’s one thing to take my mind off Millen. Hot yoga, running ten miles a day, and randomly deciding to start repainting my living room and kitchen have also been worthwhile distractions.
But two and a half weeks later with no promised call, and I’m done. There’s no mistaking the message that’s now been received loud and clear.
There’s nothing left to do but put it down to one of life’s experiences—the usefulness of which I’m still coming to grips with—and move on. What I’ve yet to decide is how to give myself closure on this brief yet still somewhat memorable chapter of my life.
Halfway through a typically busy night at the bar—which is soon to be renamed The Masonry, thanks to the new owners—and a lull in the crowd enables that closure to smack me right in the face. I need to call him. I need to unload all of these unanswered questions that’ve been bouncing around my brain since mid-last week when I lost the last smidge of idealism I was desperately holding onto.
“Babe, you look like you’re a million miles away. Why don’t you go take a break? We’re quiet. Get some fresh air or something,” Gaby says, sidling up beside me.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts before turning my head. “What?”
She gives me a shoulder nudge and nods toward the back door. “Go. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I lie, trying to hide my scrambled emotions behind smartass comments.
“Kenz…” she growls. “Don’t hide that shit from me. We’ll be fine. Dinah and Mark are behind the bar; Bruno’s got the door. The place won’t fall down if you’re not here for a while. Besides,” she adds, biting her lip, “this zombie look you’re rocking might scare the customers away.”
That gets my attention. “Is it that bad?” I say quietly.
She wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into her side, resting her temple against mine. “Babe, you need to call him and find out once and for all what happened. There aren’t enough renovations, workouts, and mid-week blow-outs that’ll help you. Call him! If he answers, ream him out. If he doesn’t, leave a message and move on. You deserve far more than to be someone’s out-of-town booty call.”
“I know,” I say. She snorts and I jerk my head back to look at her, meeting her skeptical gaze. “I do. I set the rules of interactions and the depth to which I’ll allow such interactions to go.”
“Man, that sounds dirty,” she replies.
“Yep,” I say with a grin.
“That’s the Kenzie I know and love.”
“Right, I’m gonna do this.” I open the drawer behind the bar and pull out my phone, swiping a bottle of Corona from the beer fridge below. “I’ll be back, and whatever happens, it’s probably best I clock off for the night.”
“Fine with me, babe,” she says with a grin. “This has been two weeks coming. I’ll drive you home after closing.”
“Thank you,” I reply, looking her straight in the eye.
“I’ve got your back, Kenz. All of us do. Besides, how many times have you been there for one of us?”
“Go girl,” Dinah says, walking up behind Gaby and leaning a hip into the bar. “Guys like that are assholes. They bump and grind, then leave behind.” Her smile fades when Gaby growls under her breath. “Not that we thought he was like that. He acted like he was here to stay at the barbecue,” she says quickly, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Oh look, duty calls.” She scarpers away quicker than I’ve ever seen her move to serve a customer.
“Go,” Gaby mouths, her eyes soft and full of understanding.
“I’ll be back.” I move through the crowd to the swinging door and disappear down the back hall, taking the stairs two by two leading up to the rooftop.
I spot the swinging chair and it seems wrong to sit there, so I pull myself up on a concrete step right by the edge of the roof, looking over the sidewalk and main street below.
Cell in hand, I take a swig of my beer and take a few deep, calming breaths, resolution and peace settling deep inside me. I bring up his number, sliding my thumb over the keys before pushing send.
The phone connects, the ringing tone echoing in my ears with every chime. My heartrate speeds up the longer it takes for him to answer, but that’s nothing compared to the seizing in my chest when I hear his voice message start to play.
“You’ve reached Millen Ross. I’m unavailable right now. Please leave a message with your name and number, and I’ll return your call as soon as I am able to. Thanks.”
When the beep sounds, I release the huge breath I’ve been holding, and looking out over the lights of my hometown, I find the closure I’ve been seeking without realizing it.
“Hey, it’s Kenzie. I’m not sure what happened or when the miscommunication occurred but whatever we had, it seems we had different ideas about the road it was leading down. You didn’t really have enough time to learn much about me, but there are a few things I hold dear. One of those is my self-respect. So this is me keeping a promise to myself to not let myself be treated anything less than what I deserve, and I sure as hell don’t deserve to be ghosted when you said we were just getting started.” I take a deep breath and it’s on the exhale that resignation sets in. Time to finish this. “I hope you’re well and I wish you the best… uh… Goodbye then, I guess.”
One last look at the swinging chair, the nighttime sky, and the stars shining at me in it, and I walk out the door, slamming it shut behind me in what could only be one of most symbolic gestures of my adult life.
One thing’s for sure. There aren’t going to be any hearts and flowers—figuratively speaking—in my future.
Hope is a bitch. It gives you a sliver of a chance, makes you see things that aren’t there. Hope lets you hallucinate, turns you into a starving fool in the desert falling for that oasis on the horizon.
Actually, it’s not hope’s fault. It mine and mine alone. I took a man for his word when really, he was only saying what I wanted to hear.
My plan is to dust myself off and get back on with my life. I’ll deal with the changes at work, with Jeff leaving, and anything else life decides to throw my way, but anything that might have been between me and Millen is now dead and buried.
By the time I make my way back downstairs to the bar, I’m in need of a drink… or six.
“Babe…” Gaby says as she studies me. “Take a seat and I’ll make you a cocktail.”
“Screw that. Line up shots. She needs at least three to start her off—maybe a shot in lieu of our dick doctor friends,” Dinah shouts from behind her.
The three of us look at each other before crying out, “No one says no to a blowjob,” and collapsing into a fit of giggles.
“Don’t mind them. They act like they’re a few cans short of a six-pack when they get together like this,” Mark muses. I look up to see him talking to a total stranger I’ve never seen here before. That’s nothing new, of course—we are a very busy bar and there’ll always be new customers. Unlike the last sexy asshole who caught my eye and took me for a ride—in all meanings of the word—this man strikes me as kind, his eyes soft and caring. That’s not to say I don’t miss a glimpse of heat simmering underneath.
“Mark, don’t tell the customer that. He’ll never want to come back,” Gaby says with a laugh.
“No risk of that happening. Not coming back, that is. You guys are fucking funny. I might just sit back here and watch the show,” the sexy unknown man says, joining in on the conversation.
“Stick around all night. They’re probably just getting started. Especially if Kenz is gonna start drinking.” Mark grins at me, the sexy stranger also smiling.
“Talking about shots is not making the shots, Mark. I’m off-duty but that won’t stop me busting your ass for slacking off.”
“Three BJs it is,” he announces, spinning toward the liquor rack and grabbing bottles of Baileys, Kahlúa, and Amaretto. Placing them on the bar in front of me, he sets out making the shots.
A few too many shots later, I’m nursing a margarita and another blowjob shot Dinah placed in from of me a few minutes ago, when the guy with the nice eyes comes back to the bar, putting in another order with Mark for a round of beers.
“Still here then?”
“Yep,” I answer over-enthusiastically, figuratively patting myself on the back for not slurring.
“How’s the blowjob?”
My eyes bug out of my head. “What?” I say with a laugh.
His lips twitch, and he nods to the shot in my hand. “The drink.”
Ohhhh. “Right. Yes. It’s good.”
“And how’s your night going?”
I may be a little drunk, but is this guy coming on to me? “I’ve had better, probably had worse. Tonight is registering at about a three right now if I’m honest.”
Mark brings the man his drink, raising a brow at me and smirking when I wave him off. The stranger’s eyes dance with amusement at our exchange. “Off duty drinking with the staff?”
“He’s my employee who just happens to also be a friend with a heavy hand when pouring my drinks.”
“Your ride home?”
Ohhh. This guy is definitely feeling me out. “Nope,” I say, picking up my blowjob and deep throating it like a champ. Dropping the shot glass back down on the bar top, I lift my head to meet his gaze. “That would be Gaby’s job.”
“And Gaby is…?”
“I’m Gaby, and she’s drunk, so you might wanna try your luck elsewhere, champ.”
The stranger doesn’t seem put off my best friend’s defense.
“I’m simply chatting to the management.” He winks at me, shooting me an adorable smile.
Unfortunately for him, it reminds me of Millen, the one person I don’t want to think about right now.
“Sorry, buddy. Nothing against you, but she’s totally not in the market for another man right now,” Gaby says.
His eyes widen, and he switches his attention from Gaby back to me. “Another man?”
“Long, sad story,” I mumble, smiling brightly at my best friend and batting my lashes at her, silently begging for another drink. “No more Blowjobs though.”
The stranger chokes on his mouthful of beer. “So many creative ways to talk about blowjobs.”
If I was sober, this conversation would be funny. Since I’m straddling the line of being drunk, it’s totally hilarious, and I burst out laughing, dropping my forehead onto the bar and giggling my ass off.
“She’s had a bad day,” Gaby explains. I sit up straight and glare at her, thawing when she slides another margarita my way. “Last one, babe. Wouldn’t be a good look to get caught serving a drunk patron when she’s my boss.”
I lift the glass up and toast her. “Good job, Gabs. Remind me to give you a raise.”
“I would,” she says, walking backwards towards the other end of the bar, “except you don’t pay my wages.”
“Good point,” I reply with a giggle.
“Wanna tell me about your bad day?” the man with the really nice, broad shoulders says. Nice eyes, good body, awesome personality… I seriously don’t need another man like this in my life right now.
Unfortunately, this reminds me of Millen’s square shoulders, his angled jaw, and the smile he shot my way that night we met.
Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about him? He played me, good and proper. Thoroughly so. I made him work for it, thought it would weed him out if he was just looking for a quick lay. I’ve got to give it to him—he was in it for the long game, even going so far as to drive back to town for our date and spend the weekend with me.
Let’s be honest—he only stayed the weekend in order to get his fill of me. When Monday morning came around, he was all “see you soon, I’ll call, I like you… yadda, yadda, you got played, I got laid.”
Fuck it. Closure is overrated but I know what will put the final nail in the Millen coffin, for me anyway.
“Hey,” I say, turning to the man standing beside me, watching me with seemingly avid fascination. “Can you hold this for a minute?” I shove my drink his way. Placing my hands on the bar, I hoist myself up until I’m sitting on it before twisting around and standing, grabbing my drink on the way up.
“Shit! Kenz!” Gabby shrieks, rushing to stand behind me, presumably preparing to avert certain disaster. The sexy stranger just stands there, a smirk playing on his lips. He nods at me, as if to spur me on.
I hold my glass in the air and give off a loud whistle, grabbing the attention of the crowd in the bar. “I’d like to make a toast.”
“Show us your tits, gorgeous,” some random guy from the back of the crowd yells out. It’s probably the last time he’ll say that though, since I catch Bruno making a beeline his way.
Ignoring him and his request, I return my attention to the raised drink in my hand. “Back to my toast. My name is Kenzie Sharp and I am the manager of this fine establishment. Thank you for your patronage, and please forget anything I may say from this moment forward. Especially if my new boss asks.” The crowd starts laughing, making me smile.
“Get on with it, Kenz,” Mark calls out, sounding bemused.
I wave him off. “Okay, okay. Lift your glasses and join me in toasting the crushing death of hope. In this very bar, no less.” I grow solemn, focusing on my glass and biting the inside of my cheek, swallowing down hard. “Here lies hope—gone and forever forgotten. This is dedicated to the ones who sweet talk their way into your bed and ghost you like the two-dollar whore they played you to be. Cheers!” I down my drink in one long pull, forgetting for a moment that I’m wearing heeled boots while drunk and standing on top of a bar. I lose my equilibrium, my legs wobbling as I stumble, trying to regain my balance.
Unfortunately for me, I fail at this endeavor, Gaby shrieking as I slip and fall sideways toward the floor.
But I never hit the floor, mainly because I’m caught in the arms of the sexy stranger, saving me from a bruised butt in the morning.
Still recovering from the shock of the fall and muddled by alcohol and adrenalin, I open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Well, that’s one way to get to first base.”
Luckily for me, my Good Samaritan drops his head back and bursts out laughing. “Good thing I was going to ask you out to dinner then, isn’t it?”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. Like, really not looking for anything to do with commitment and promises and hope. Therefore, dating is a big no-go zone for me right now.”
“I’m persistent. I’ll wear you down.”
“It’ll be a wasted effort,” I reply, putting my feet on the floor and steadying myself against the bar.
“We’ll see.” And something about the shining gleam in his eye tells me he’s a man of his word.