Chapter 19

Melissa

I heard the shouts and hollers before they even opened the door. Donnie and his friends, fresh from some idiotic adventure or something akin, burst through the Alibi's front entrance with enough force to startle a couple of the customers just tucking into their Friday night beer.

I rolled my eyes but didn't watch as they found a table in the corner, too busy counting out change for my last customer. Naomi approached the bar, casting a look at the rowdy group and then one at me. Her expression was soft, full of pity, and I shook my head vehemently.

"I'm over it. I doubt Donnie is, but I am, and I'm going to pretend like nothing happened from here on out," I told her.

"Isn't this the first time you've seen him, though?" she asked. "You know, since you broke up."

Since I hadn't gone into details about how that break up had gone down, Naomi naturally assumed the worst. It was messy as far as breakups go, but it could have been much messier. No matter the mess, however, I was willing to look past it and move on. I needed to if I wanted to stay sane.

"It is," I confirmed. "But that doesn't change anything. Except the fact that I'm not serving their table, of course."

"I assumed." She cracked a smile. "I'll keep 'em in line."

"All you have to do is keep 'em in drinks," I replied. "It was never my job to keep Donnie from making an ass of himself, and it's not yours either. It was a service I provided out of the good of my heart, and if he crashes and burns now, that's his own goddamn fault."

Naomi winked. "I like it. Can I get a Bud and two vodka tonics?"

I went back to work, and it wasn't long before I forgot all about the little foursome in the corner. They would not be forgotten though, unfortunately.

"...Can't believe she's such a slut!" Matt practically yelled. It was loud enough for me to hear it from across the room, which meant it was loud enough for almost everybody in the bar to hear.

Andre chirped in next. "Yeah man, and that trashy new boyfriend of hers..."

His voice faded out as Donnie's booming laughter barreled over it.

I refused to look over at the group, even though I knew they were all waiting to see my reaction. I couldn't react, not when Donnie probably knew that Hank had warned me to keep it together. Even if he hadn't, Hank was only in the back office right now. I didn't want to lose my job tonight, so I kept ignoring them.

Naomi came back for more drinks, and this time her expression was even softer. I couldn't take it.

"I'm fine, Naomi."

"You don't look fine. You look like you've swallowed a whole egg, baby."

I looked up and frowned at her. "Fresh or hard-boiled?"

Naomi's lips cracked into a smile, and we had a giggle together while I filled her orders.

"At least my ex isn't a gold digging tramp!"

My smile fell. I couldn't tell which one of them had said it this time, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck this," I muttered, slapping my towel onto the counter and heading out onto the floor.

Naomi followed me. "Babe, wait."

Donnie and his friends were watching me. I could feel their eyes on me, and the frustration bubbling in my gut warned me that I was playing right into their hands. That made it so much worse because I didn't know what I could do that wouldn't play into their hands. I stopped and allowed Naomi to turn me to face her.

"Remember what Hank said about causing a scene... Those boys are disrespectful as all hell, but you know how things work around here." She scowled over at them. "Let me handle this one, okay?"

I was more curious to see what her handling the situation would entail than I was assuaged by her plea. Reluctantly, and with a great, world-weary sigh, I headed back behind the bar.

Naomi came with me, patting me reassuringly on the back. It didn't matter how obviously uncomfortable physical affection made me, she still insisted on doing it at every turn. When I first started working with her, it used to scare the shit out of me every time. I wasn't used to people touching me at all back then, and hell I couldn't remember when my last hug was. Now I was starting to see the comfort in it, and I realized she was wearing me down.

"Can I get a sweet tea, darlin'?" she asked.

I nodded and got back to work, trying to ignore the raucous laughter coming from the side of the room I was pretending not to notice.

I slipped the tea onto Naomi's tray, and she winked at me, grinning wide, as she lifted it into the air and started sashaying toward the back of the room.

I was going to check the bar for refills, but something told me to keep watching Naomi. I absently ran a rag over the bar top as she walked closer and closer to Donnie's table, where all four of them had their heads bent together in laughter. The table was a mess of beer and napkins. They always made such a goddamn mess.

Naomi executed a perfect fake trip as she walked past their table. It was glorious—screeching, arms spinning, legs buckling beneath her. She crashed onto the floor palms first, but her tray and the glass of sweet tea went tumbling to the right; straight into Donnie's lap.

I never realized, before breaking up with Donnie, how few people in Cannon liked him. I guess people never said anything or acted like it around me because they thought I'd tell him, which is fair enough. I wouldn't want to shit talk a Beringer in front of his girlfriend either. But now that I was on the outside looking in, with the rest of Cannon's residents, I'd begun to appreciate just how much the Cannon community disliked him. His family was respected, sure, but that respect didn't extend to Donnie, or at least not in the way he always seemed to think it did.

What better place for a poignant examination of this trend than the town's favorite bar? And what better situation than one so hilarious that it made the whole bar erupt into laughter? Hoots and cheers filled the air as jubilation rippled through the crowd, and Donnie’s face flushed redder than a ripe tomato.

It wasn't enough. Watching Donnie get humiliated a thousand times in front of everyone he knew would never be enough to make up for everything he'd done to me, but fuck if it wasn't a good time.

Donnie charged up out of his seat and started madly berating Naomi, dripping sweet tea all down the front of his jeans and onto the bench seat.

“You stupid bitch! Why don’t you watch where you’re fucking going?”

Those around Naomi sprung to her rescue. She, unlike Donnie, was very well-liked, and taking a tumble as she did was guaranteed to earn some sympathy. I would have never suspected, however, that the same people who helped Naomi back to her feet would have no problem calling out the raging Beringer for his uncalled-for insults.

"It was an accident," Benny, one of the regulars said sternly, wobbling his Lorax mustache. "Get over yourself."

"Leave the poor woman alone," contributed Benny's wife, Sheila. "There's no place in this establishment for that kind of rudeness."

That was the cherry on top since there wasn't a staff member in there who hadn't been harangued by Sheila Gladstone at least once and everybody knew it. Donnie looked like he was going to start unloading on Sheila and Benny too, but after a second he gritted his teeth and jerked his head toward the door. His goons got up and followed his lead.

"Donnie, wait!" I called, not wanting to miss the opportunity to rub dirt in his wound a little more.

He stopped at the door, looking over at me expectantly.

I grinned. "You forgot to pay your bill."

Donnie threw his hands in the air and continued storming out of the bar, yelling over his shoulder, "Put it on my tab!"

As soon as the door swung closed behind him, the Alibi's patrons served up a second course of laughter. Sheila high-fived Naomi, who—ever the dutiful waitress—was already cleaning up the mess.

Things soon got back to normal, though the cheer of the evening lingered long into the night. I hung with it for a while, letting everyone's smiles lift me somewhere that my angst about the Donnie situation couldn't reach me. Soon, however, that happiness began to crumble.

It wasn't that seeing Donnie get a little taste of his own medicine wasn't satisfying—it was how powerless I'd been in all of it. I didn't like having my battles fought for me, and I certainly didn't like not being allowed to fight my battles in the first place. Plus, it didn't escape my notice that the only way to get one in against Donnie was to "accidentally" spill some tea on him and laugh him out the door. It was ridiculous that there wasn't a better way to tell him off. It was ridiculous that I had to sit there and watch while that shit unfolded.

All in all, I felt trapped. Behind my bar. In this town.

In this life.

Completely and utterly trapped.

The obvious solution was to set myself free. But how? I already felt so much freer than I had before, and maybe that was why I’d been content to sit back and ride things out for a while. Now the time for sitting back was over. I needed to get out there and do something about it myself.

I was cleaning glasses when the thought hit me. I would save money, enough money to get me out of Cannon forever. I didn't know where I'd go—somewhere bigger, but beyond that, it didn't matter. First I would need to save, and from there I'd formulate the rest of the plan as needed.

Even as I planned a new life, I couldn’t shake the fear that I would almost certainly fail. I had nothing to offer the world outside of Cannon, and barely anything to offer in Cannon. What would I even do?

I chewed over these thoughts for the rest of my shift. Then, tired in more ways than one, I climbed into my car and motored over to the motel that had become my home and sanctuary. Donnie's house was much nicer and fancier in almost every way, but that didn't bother me a lick. I was happiest when I was with my fighter in our little hideaway, where we could watch TV and pig out on snacks in peace.

Even still, I couldn't force a smile as I walked through the door. Jack looked up from the couch, where he'd been reading, and furrowed his brow.

"Everything okay?" He got to his feet and crossed the room, gathering me in his arms.

"Fine," I lied.

I couldn't tell him. I wished I could. He would have all the right words to reassure me that I wasn't a waste of space in the world, that I had more to offer than just bartending and a broken past. But as soon as I thought about letting him in on my little plan of almost certain failure, the words died in my throat.

I was on my own in this world. I always had been, and likely always would be. Just because Jack was here now didn't mean he was going to stick around. Just because I wanted him forever, didn't mean he wanted me forever too.