Conleigh
I don’t know what I’m doing here. I take a deep breath as I stare at the door to The Grill. The outside is a bit rough. The sign needs updated; it creaks above my head, ready to rust off the hinges any day now. It reads Big Mike’s Grill in old English style lettering. Who in the hell is Mike anyway? Was he the previous owner? The white vinyl siding could use a good power wash and the parking lot needs swept and repaved. There’s a lot of potential here, but I doubt the place makes enough money to cover the repairs it truly needs to improve its curb appeal. I don’t know why I care, but I do.
I guess it’s because I care about Holden and want him to succeed. My life is one giant clusterfuck. When did Holden manage to get under my skin so deeply?
I had Bailey drop me off here against her better judgment. I know she worries about me but I need to sort my shit out myself. Only I can fix my life. I only wish I had a real plan. I do need a job and there is the perk of working for Holden, even though I am not entirely sure I am ready to see him yet. I scan the parking lot realizing his truck isn’t here. That’s good. I start to go in three times before I finally get over my nerves. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He isn’t even here, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. I walk in and scan the place. Everything appears so different in the daylight. The floor is clean of peanut shells and only two customers are seated at the bar.
The bartender from the other night is on duty as well as that skank, Cheryl. Her nose turns up when she sees me and my stomach sours knowing she has fooled around with Holden. I don’t know if I can stomach working next to her. I have no reason to hate her, but I do. I think I will hate every woman who has ever felt his touch before I did.
“You the new girl?” Waylon questions as I step up to the counter. I remember him from last time I came in. He’s cute enough. I bet he makes good tips. He has piercing blue eyes that almost appear to be contacts because they are deep indigo.
“Yeah.” I smile at him trying to dial down my jealousy toward the hussy.
“Cool. Holden said he wasn’t sure if you’d show.” He smiles. Warm. Friendly.
“Well, here I am. Do I need to fill out paperwork or anything?”
“Nah, today you’ll work for cash and if you can hang, then Holden will handle hiring you.”
“Okay, where do I start?”
“You can start by taking your prissy ass somewhere else,” Cheryl sneers at me and blows her freshly painted finger nails. There’s a bottle of red nail polish sitting on the bar. Her roots need touched up and she has lipstick on her teeth. She moves to light up a cigarette and rolls her eyes at me when I scrunch up my nose.
I eye her whore polish and say to Waylon, “Pretty sure she is violating the health code.”
“Ignore her,” he tells me, motioning for me to follow him to the kitchen.
Sucking in a breath, I pass by the jealous hag and follow Waylon behind the bar. We pass through what I akin to swinging saloon style doors into the small but tidy kitchen. There’s a grill, deep fryer, refrigerator, and a prep table. Waylon goes to the fridge and takes out some lemons, placing them on the stainless-steel table.
“You can wash your hands over there,” he instructs, pointing to a small sink at the opposite end of the room.
I nod as he takes a knife and storage container from a shelve.
After washing my hands, I rejoin him, wondering if Holden actually needs to hire anyone. The place seems dead.
Waylon leaves me on my own to slice lemon and limes wedges. After that I move to onions. Once I’ve finished that I go on to filling napkin holders, the salt and pepper shakers and check to see that the bathrooms have soap and toilet paper. Thankfully Cheryl stays out of my way. Now I have nothing to do. The place is dead other than a band doing their soundcheck. I didn’t even know they had live music outside of the open mic nights.
This group has an alternative folk sound. I am sitting at a nearby booth filling out the new hire forms. Apparently, Holden called and said that after I fill these out I can leave. I don’t guess he’s coming in today while I’m here. Which sucks because I was hoping he’d be working while I am at the apartment having the talk with Ezra.
As I go the bar to give my paperwork over to Waylon the band is finishing their set. The lead singer reaches the bartender before I do and orders a beer.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He winks at me and I can’t help but blush. He’s got that whole edgy, sexy rocker thing going on. Messy bed hair that says he’s just been screwing his brains out and eyes so grey they don’t look real. They almost remind me of Holden’s eyes. He flicks his lip piercing with his tongue as he waits for me to answer. “So, whatcha drinking?” He’s dressed in black jeans with the knees ripped out, combat boots, and a black t-shirt that says Bite Me across the front with a pair of fangs.
I shake my head and look to Waylon for help and he just looks at me like ‘no way, you’re on your own, sweetheart.’
“I can’t, but thanks. I’m on my way out.”
He looks at me as though I smacked him. Guess he isn’t used to the word no.
“Do you know who I am, love?”
“A guy who wants to buy me a drink?” I tease, but seriously I don’t know who in the hell the guy is. I don’t follow music all that much.
He laughs and a dimple pops out on his right cheek. And it hits me. I’ve seen his face on the front of those cheesy tabloids at the grocery store checkouts.
“You’re that guy. Bad Intentions? Right?”
“Guilty. So how about that drink?”
I roll my eyes as I hand my employee forms across the bar to Waylon who looks like he has better shit to do with his time than listen to the two of us. He places them under the bar and moves to get this guy his beer.
“So, you think because I recognized you that I’m what all the sudden going to change my mind?” I arch a brow at him.
“Well damn.” He shakes his head and takes his beer, chugging it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Waylon.”
He nods.
I go to the backroom to retrieve my purse.
When I am coming back through the band is sitting at a booth and Cheryl is leaning down, whispering in the drummer’s ear. I laugh silently and make my way to the door. I should have asked for his autograph. I wonder how in the hell Holden got them to play here.
Just as I am moving to push the door open, Holden is pulling it from the other side. His eyes meet mine full of such intensity.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my cool, but my heart is about to thump right out of my chest.
“Conleigh,” he says coolly, walking on past me.
That’s it. No smartass remarks.
I start to ask him if he’s mad at me, but that seems stupid. I watch as he goes over to the booth and wraps an arm around Cheryl’s shoulder. My stomach tenses and I don’t know why I haven’t started walking to the apartment yet. I guess my curiosity is winning. The lead singer gets up and gives Holden one of those weird fist bump combos all guys seem to do.
He whispers something to Holden and then they are both looking at me, and I hurry out the door, embarrassed having been caught gawking at them.
I don’t turn back as I rush to make the walk to the apartment.
When I get there Ezra isn’t home yet. I am thankful for a few moments to myself but when I go to sit on the couch, I remember kissing Holden. The way he kissed me…thinking about It, I can’t help but smile. I move to the bedroom but I see Holden’s door across the hall. I shake my head, I am not letting my mind go there right now.
I get on my computer and look up the band, Bad Intentions. I can’t help but wonder why they would book a gig at The Grill. Lead singer, Wren James has been arrested several times for possession and DUI. Numerous stints in rehab. And here I thought Holden was a bad boy. Wren James hmm. I wonder what his relation to Holden is. Looks like the band lost out on several endorsements when they canceled their last tour and have been on a break while Wren spent three months in court ordered rehabilitation. There are several photos of this Wren and a blonde bombshell playboy model type chick. Says that her name is Reese James, I guess she was his wife or maybe she still is. I feel dirty snooping on Holden and his friend or family member or whatever and end up erasing my browsing history and pretending I didn’t give in to the temptation. If he wants me to know he will tell me. It isn’t any of my business.
I haven’t heard from Ezra to know when he will arrive and I have no idea what I will say to him when he does make an appearance. I think about working on my book but I can’t get in the zone. I have too much on my mind. I haven’t heard from my mother today either. I figured she would have been harping on me to accept Ezra’s proposal. Not that her lecture would bear any weight on changing my mind.