A black and white movie Harper didn't recognize played on Sailor's big screen TV over her mantle, the volume turned down to a murmur. Sailor was "slumming it" in what most people would call dressy clothes - a pair of black leggings and an oversized pink cashmere sweater. Her long, slender legs were tucked up neatly under her, while she rested her elbow on the back of the leather sofa, chin in hand.
Though the rest of her seemed relaxed, stress tightened her jaw and formed worry lines on her forehead. "I don't know what to do. I've tried hiring bouncers, but the good ones never stay. They usually go to the Manhattan clubs where they're paid more and don't have to deal with vomiting drunks and bar fights nearly as often."
Harper felt bad for her, even worse knowing what she'd done to Sailor's shoes. "I don't know how you've kept it going this long. Why not sell it and open a spa or something?"
"I don't know. I've put so much into the bar already; I don't want to give up so soon. My dad could start up a business and have it making six figures in profits within a few months, sell it for an even bigger profit, and go on to the next one. I need to make this work, even if I do end up selling it later."
"But why? Because you're afraid of disappointing your dad?"
"No, I mean, I realize he's dead and not coming back. He can't be disappointed in me. It's like..." She sat up, hugged a blue silk pillow to her chest and brought her knees to her chin. "...my dad never really cared about any of his work. He wanted to make money, and he did, but there was never any real passion for anything beyond that. Maybe it's silly, but I want to build a legacy. I want something that lasts and becomes a neighborhood landmark."
"That's not silly at all. My brother Jaxon is like that with his aerial tours company. Total nature geek. You have to love what you do if you want to keep doing it, or you'll just end up miserable."
"I think you're right." She unfolded her legs and sat on the edge of the sofa. "But loving what I do doesn't fix the problem unless I can get better help or get combat training."
"A good self-defense class isn't a bad idea."
"I'll look into that." Sailor stood, picking some invisible lint from her leggings. "I'm going to fix a martini. Would you like one?"
"Sure. I've never had those either, but tonight seems to be the night for trying new drinks."
Sailor glided to her big open kitchen at the other end of her living room. She fetched some bottles of liquor, two martini glasses, a jar of olives, and a stainless steel shaker and set them all on her marble island. "So, since you're a cocktail novice, here's your basic martini. First, cracked ice, not crushed." She went to her big stainless steel fridge and put the shaker under the dispenser. Ice clanged into it, filling it up. She brought it back to the island. "Now you pour in about a half ounce of dry vermouth. I only use Noilly Prat. Add two and a half ounces of gin. Put the lid on the shaker, shake for about twenty seconds." She proceeded to shake it, rattling the ice cubes while she hummed and tilted her head from side to side, swaying to her own music.
Harper smiled. One thing was certain. Sailor enjoyed making drinks. It was nice to see her happy after the crap she'd had to put up with at the bar.
"Now, you strain it into your glass." She flipped over the shaker and poured the drink. "And now for the olive." She took a toothpick, speared an olive with it, and plopped it into the martini.
While she made the second drink, Harper wandered into the kitchen. Sailor handed her the first martini. She took a sip. It was crisp, dry, and had a distinct evergreen flavor. "Not bad. Tastes a little like Pine Sol."
Sailor laughed. "That's the gin. It's Hendrick's."
"You know, you could say it's McGillicutty's and I wouldn't know the difference."
Sailor poured her own martini and flashed a smile. "It's distilled in Scotland and made with juniper berries, infused with rose and cucumber."
"Gotcha. Ask me about Maker's Mark or Jim Beam, and then we've got something to talk about."
Crossing one arm over her middle, Sailor sipped her martini with the other hand. "I'll have to repay Gabriel and Dwight for stepping in tonight. Since we had to close early thanks to those jerks, they didn't get their food. Can you tell Gabriel that he and Dwight can have dinner on me next time they come in?"
"I guess so. You could tell them yourself, though."
"Oh no, I think you should. I saw the way Gabriel looked at you, and you looked at him. Definitely some sparks happening there. Besides, I think you owe me some shoes."
Harper almost choked on her drink. She coughed, trying to clear the burn from her throat without gagging. "Um..."
Sailor laughed. "It's fine. Whatever happened, I'm sure it was an accident. I have a few dozen pairs for backup anyway." She took a sip of martini, winking at Harper.
Clearing her throat one last time, Harper decided it was confession time. "I'm so sorry about the shoes. I never meant to get chum all over them."
It was Sailor's turn to choke on her drink. She set her glass down on the island and covered her mouth with one hand. Even her coughs were premium quality, not too loud and not at all gaggy.
Harper realized Sailor probably didn't know what chum was, so she most likely had mistaken the word for chum without the h. She burst out laughing. "No, not that. Fish guts!"
Now Sailor grimaced and shivered. "I'd say that was better, but..."
"Yeah it's pretty nasty. The cleaner assured me he'd do everything he could."
Sailor still looked skeptical, but she rested her elbows on the counter and shook her head sadly. "They were some of my favorites."
Geez, it sounded like they were talking about a critically ill patient rather than a pair of luxury high heels. Harper finished off her martini and popped the olive in her mouth. "I better go. Early day tomorrow. It's my first time guiding a tour."
"Okay. I need a nice soak in the tub and a good night's sleep."
"I hear ya. G'night."
Back upstairs in her apartment, Harper opened her laptop. She wanted to spend a few minutes researching seals and sea lions so she could better answer the kids' questions without having to bother Gabriel. She clicked on the first result in the Google search, but she didn't really see the words. She kept picturing Gabriel getting between her and that disgusting mechanic. He was so protective, but why? He barely knew her. They'd spoken maybe for a combined five minutes total. He'd shown up there with Dwight - that was weird too. But dang, he was strong and brave to take on a gang like that. She felt the blood drain from her face. They could have had weapons. Sure, the bouncer was supposed to check everyone on the way in, but as flaky as Sailor said those guys were, someone could sneak in a small handgun or pocket knife easily. Yet, Gabriel had been willing to take them on anyway without flinching. He had this fire in his eyes, like he'd do whatever it took to protect her. Thankfully she'd seen and been in plenty of fights growing up in Kentucky. If you survived a whole year riding the bus without witnessing or getting drawn into a fight, you were lucky. She was only a little sore from straining herself swinging the pizza pan. Totally worth it. She and Gabe had made a good tag team.
Harper warmed in places she had neglected for too long. For the brief moment their bodies had come into contact, she'd noticed his solidness and his musky scent, heightened in the heat of battle. What she'd give for just a few more moments with him without drunk idiots ruining everything! He seemed kind and smart, a little uptight, but she'd seen a spark of mischief in him. She bet he'd be really fun if he let his guard down.
She opened Facebook to search for his name and had only typed Ga- when A Facebook notification popped up on her laptop screen. Her jaw dropped. Gabriel had sent a friend request. Did he sense she’d been thinking about him this whole time? She moved the cursor and hovered it over “accept.” It probably wasn’t wise to get involved with a coworker over social media, but she’d already been up close and personal with him in a bar fight. So why not?
Harper clicked, then ran to the fridge to get a soda and lingered in the kitchen, like the laptop might bite her if she sat there waiting. She wasn’t a silly teenager whose life depended on Facebook. Yet, there she stood, sipping a Coke and waiting. How mature.
The laptop dinged. She ran back and slid into her chair.
Gabriel: Hi! I hope you’re ok after all that. Sorry I got you involved in it.
Harper: No, don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I’m fine.
Gabriel: I should have found a way to take it outside. I’m not much of a fighter, I guess. I’m much better with marine life.
Harper: Are you kidding? I was super…she started to write ‘turned on’ but backspaced… impressed. Those guys were pretty big.
Gabriel: My fist hurts. But I’m glad you’re ok.
Harper: Ice it, then take some ibuprofen, slugger
A smile stretched across her face. There was a long pause as though both of them were at a loss for words. But maybe he was just bored or thought he was obligated to check in on her. Should she tell him it was sweet, being concerned about a girl he barely knew?
Gabriel: I’ll be eating lunch in the staff room this week. My mother is cooking enough food to feed the whole block.
She waited for an invitation to a semi-sorta work lunch date but he didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t just assume it was an invitation. It could make her look like a floozy or something. At least it would have according to her mother.
Harper: That’s nice. She’s lucky to have you around.
Gabriel: Yeah, I guess. Wish I could do more.
Harper: Rachel was asking about you the other day. She asked me my opinion of you. Do you know why she was asking that?
Gabriel: She hasn’t accepted that It’s over between her and me. I’m not surprised she brought it up.
Gabriel: I’m sorry if she’s bothering you. We were together a long time.
Harper: Rachel is your ex?
Gabriel: Yeah, we started dating in high school. Sorry, I should have said before.
Harper: No, that’s okay. We need time to sit and talk more.
Gabriel: Yeah. But I guess I should say goodnight now. I’ll see you at work.
Harper: Cya. Goodnight.
He went offline, so she closed her laptop and took a few sips of her fizzy soda. Talk about humble. Gabriel didn’t seem to realize just how good a guy he was. She didn’t know him that well, but she knew good people when she saw him. Gabriel Castillo was good people.
And hot as all get out.
Crap. She couldn't afford to fall for anyone right now, not when she'd just struck out on her own. Her job, this apartment - she had to focus on those things, not what lay beneath that handsome Cuban exterior. She sighed and went back to the kitchen to get a snack. She'd have to come back to the seals and sea lions later.
Coke, corn chips, and cell phone in hand, she went out on the deck. The moon slipped in and out behind fast-moving clouds. A brisk wind whipped through her hair. Exactly what she needed to cool her jets. A thought struck her - one that didn't involve Gabe or his intoxicating smile. Sailor needed help with that bar, and it had been a long time since she'd talked to her cousin, Ace.
Harper hadn't had time or money enough to buy patio furniture yet, so she kicked off her shoes, walked barefoot to the steps and sat down. She dialed Ace's number.
"Hello?" He always sounded like Billy Goat Gruff, even though she knew he was a total teddy bear inside. A former cop, Ace had seen stuff no one should see. He'd been shot, stabbed, and run over, among other things. Now he worked as private security, only slightly less dangerous, but at least he got to choose his jobs.
"Hey, cuz, what's up?"
"Harper? Well, hey little cuz, it's been a while."
"Yeah, how you doing?"
"I'm good. What you up to these days?"
"I just moved to New York and got a job at an aquarium."
She heard him chuckling. Country music played in the background. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. But listen, I have a friend up here that could use your kind of help."
He was quiet for a while. "I'm listening."