CHAPTER NINE
CHARLIE
"Can I get four Sex on the Beaches and a Tom Collins?" A frat boy leaned across the bar with a fifty wedged between his fingers and a wink on his stupid face.
"Sure thing, man." I whipped up the drinks and looked back at his table. "Nice group over there."
"It's the blonde one I'm into. The others just sort of followed. But I think she's into me."
She definitely wasn't. I only charged him for three shots and sent him on his way. Abigail, one of my co-bartenders for the evening, leaned against the register, frowning.
"What's wrong with you?"
I looked around, confused. "Nothing? What's wrong with you?"
"You were just nice. You did a nice thing for that poor guy no girl would screw. You don't do that. Why did you do that?"
"Felt sorry for the guy."
Abigail leaned in, like she was trying to see into my brain. "You don't have feelings."
"That's ridiculous. Everyone has feelings."
She started to protest, stopped, looked at me again, and then gasped. "Oh my god. You have a girlfriend."
"Shh!" I looked around to make sure no one heard. "Why would you say that around me? Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack. Don't do that again."
"Hey Peter." Abigail called out to the other bartender behind her. "Charlie finally got himself a girlfriend."
"No shit?" Peter handed off a tray of Jello shots and squinted at me. "Impossible."
"Totally does."
"I gave the guy a free shot. So what? You guys do that shit all the time." I said
“We do. You don’t.” Abigail studied me one last time before shaking her finger in my face. "You can deny it, but I've worked with you for over a year. You, my friend, are getting laid by the same girl and liking it."
She went to take orders at the other end of the bar, leaving me to stew. I hadn't told anyone about Ashley because... well, I wasn't entirely sure, which was all the more reason to keep quiet. True, we were in a sort of relationship that was exclusive, and I was repeatedly sleeping with her, often in the same day, when I hadn't before. And I'd slept over a few times. But I still didn't let her over at my place and never called her my girlfriend.
Rudolph told me I was getting too hung up on titles and more bullshit about me being scared, which was all ridiculous. I didn't get scared. And after Brad showed up at my house a few weeks ago, I'd toned my shit down because Rudolph appeared to be serious about hauling me in to be evaluated again. So, I upped my workouts of both the gym and bedroom variety. I spent time with Ashley and enjoyed it. I was less angry than I'd been in weeks. What did I have to be afraid of?
"Does she know you don't call her your girlfriend?" Abigail appeared back by my side, hellbent on continuing her investigation. "Does she know you pretend she doesn't exist in public?"
"Drop it, Abigail." I cut a look to her. "This isn't your business."
"I'll take that as a no. Let's hope she doesn't find out and drop your ass for the disrespect. I'd hate to see Asshole Vermont come back around."
"We've just never..."I said.
"We! I knew it!"
"Shut your pie hole." I snapped. "Fuck. Never mind."
"NO, talk to me." Abigail was practically vibrating she was so excited. "Why do you act like she's not a thing? Is it because you're worried your reputation will ruin everything?"
I started to protest, but immediately stopped to mull it over. I hadn't thought of it that way. "Actually, something like it."
"Do tell." She waggled her eyebrows at me and bounced on her heels.
"I'm going to kill you. This is not a sleepover with gossip and pillow fights and shit, okay?"
Abigail rolled her eyes and held up her hands. "Charlie is a big badass, so scary, got it. You were saying."
I frowned and thought about walking away, but didn't. "Everyone thinks I'm just a cheating manwhore, like I lure in taken chicks and fuck 'em for the hell of it or something. Unless they say they've got a boyfriend or a fiancée or whatever, I have no idea--"
"You slept with someone who was engaged?! There is a ring on their finger, dumbass."
"Not if they take them off first. Jesus, Abi, focus." This was a bad idea, I knew it, but it was nice to talk about Ashley to someone other than Rudolph. "I know people think I'm a dick. Hell, I generally am a dick. But she's... so good. Way too sweet for someone like me. If people find out about her, they'll come climbing out of the woodwork to tell her stories about what an asshole I am. She'll end up leaving me because of the shit I did before."
"Well I'll be damned." Abigail shook her head. "You really do have feelings. Amazing. No, no, don't leave. I'm sorry, it's just... weird. Listen, big boy, you made that reputation and you gotta deal with it. Is she from around here? Because if so, she's probably heard everything already and she's still here, right?"
"True." For reasons I didn't fully understand, but that summed up the entirety of our relationship.
"Don't ruin what you two have because you're worried about something that she already knew getting into this. Prove to her she's the only one that matters to you, that you're devoted to her only. As long as she has that, who cares what other people say? Besides, if your dick is half as good as they say, I'm sure she'll hang around regardless."
"I.... have no idea what to say to that."
"I've rendered the beast silent twice in one evening? I should buy a lottery ticket or something." She tossed her hair and threw a fake punch at my shoulder. "Buck up, champ. Treat her like she's special. It'll be all right."
"Treat who like she's special? Surely you're talking about me?" I closed my eyes and tried to wish away the slurred voice behind me. "I knew you loved me, Charlie-boy."
Abigail narrowed her eyes. "Pretty sure you're banned, Chelsea. You need to get out."
"Rude. I'm just here to see my boyfriend." She hiccupped and slammed an open palm on the bar. "C'mere, boyfriend. Come kiss me."
I turned around with my arms crossed and looked on at one of the hottest messes I've ever seen. Chelsea was drunk off her ass at eight in the evening, make up smeared and hair a mess. "The hell happened to you?"
"I tried to look pretty for you, big guy." She tried to wink, but ended up blinking both eyes. "Can you go on break for a little quickie in the bathroom, if you know what I'm saying?"
"No, but I'll be happy to call you a cab." Abigail glared at her.
I kept my voice level, despite the rising levels of frustration churning through my veins, and offered a smile. "Or can someone come pick you up?"
"No one loves me." Chelsea sniffed, in a sudden turn. She wiped away a tear. "Only you, Charlie. Everyone else thinks I'm a slut. But I'm not a slut. I just love you. Is that so wrong?"
"Okay." Abigail stepped in front of me, all five feet of her, and held up the bar wireless phone. "That's enough, crazy. I'm going to call you a cab and you can wait outside. If you can't make it out on your own, I'll be happy to have the bouncers help."
Chelsea cried so hard she started hiccupping. And then I started feeling... bad? She clearly did this shit to herself. Throwing herself at me while neglecting to mention a boyfriend, and then willingly taking me back to her apartment he had a key to, was all her fault. I'm not going to ID check relationships. But after chatting with Bradley, I could see why she looked elsewhere.
And apparently getting a girlfriend makes me more empathetic or something, which is just more shit I'd have to deal with later.
"Okay, Chelsea. Come on, let's go for a walk." Abigail looked at me like I was an idiot, but I waved her off and walked around the bar to offer an arm. "They've got Car Pool right outside, I'm sure. One of them can take you home."
"Thank you." Chelsea threw her arms around me, still damp with tears. I peeled her off and led her outside, kicking chairs out of the way to keep her from faceplanting.
As soon as we hit the parking lot, she steadied and wiped her eyes. When she looked up at me, her whole demeanor shifted. "We could have been great together, you know that? Great. And you had to go and ruin everything."
"Chelsea, you seem... nice.” If nice meant trashy, a hot mess, and insane. “But you aren't my type. I'm sorry. You have a boyfriend who cares about you a lot, so let's put all that behind us and just focus on the present, eh?" It was the best pep talk I could throw together, given the circumstances.
"You're right." She nodded, and then grabbed my face and kissed me hard. I was so surprised it took a second to register what the fuck she was doing. When I pulled her off, she cried again. "Why do you hate me?"
"Jesus, Chelsea." I scrubbed at my lips, trying to undo what she'd just done. "You can't do that. I have a girlfriend. You have a boyfriend. You’re drunk to boot. This isn't going to work."
"We'll see about that." She sniffed and stormed away, only slightly crooked, towards a line of cabs.
I stayed out long enough to wipe the smeared lipstick from my mouth and went back to work, ready to indulge in Abigail's ridiculous fantasy and talk about how to make my relationship with Ashley work. After dipping into her pool, there was no way in hell I could go back to the insanity of bar pickups. Ever again.