I needed a job. Three days had passed since the anniversary of my mother’s death, and this would be the first time I left the hotel. Even though I could have afforded a couple more nights of self-pity, I didn’t want that. I was ready for my fresh start.
I drove to Carillo University and decided to try my luck at the busy strip mall right next door. I walked into every restaurant/bar/coffee shop I could find. Most were unimpressed by my suit-and-tie job history and started tuning me out the second I told them I had no experience in the food industry. Despite my failed attempts everywhere else, I entered the last bar the same as the first: confident and upbeat.
It was the first sports bar I’d seen, and it looked like it brought in a lot of customers. The door handles were in the form of small skulls and the tinted door displayed its name, Pick Your Poison, in blood red. Four large TVs were mounted in various places around the bar, all playing a different sport. There were two bars, one running the full length of the back wall and another up front in the right corner.
The hostess walking up was wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt with a small skull and crossbones logo. “Hey, how can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Gabe.” I stuck out my hand. “I was wondering if I could speak to a manager?”
After giving my hand a quick shake, she looked toward the bar where a guy was polishing glasses. When she turned back around, the blush on her cheeks had reached fire-engine red, and she quickly coughed to cover up her reaction. “Of course. May I ask what it’s regarding?”
“I’m looking for a job.”
With a quick nod and small smile, she hurried around the stand and disappeared behind two large doors to the right of the back bar. Less than a minute later, the hostess reappeared with the Hulk. Seriously. The only thing missing was the green skin.
He stopped a couple feet away and whispered something to the girl before returning his attention to me. “Sadie says you’re looking for work?”
“Yes, sir.”
He tilted his head toward the back bar, signaling me to follow. The bartender there was now wiping down the counter while his eyes tracked my movement. He nodded his head in my direction by way of greeting, but before I could return the nod, Bruce Banner’s alter ego spoke again. “Well, you may be in luck. I just had my best and, unfortunately, my most unreliable bartender up and quit on me. No notice. So I’m a little desperate. You ever bartend, son?”
With a grimace, I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I’ve never bartended in the traditional sense, but I know how to make a lot of drinks. Plus, I’m a very quick study. You won’t be disappointed.”
The Hulk grunted as his eyes moved across the restaurant, and he rubbed a hand along his jawline. When his eyes made their way back to me, he gave me an uncertain glance before exhaling loudly.
Sensing he was about to turn me away, I rambled on. “I can also work as many hours as you need. Other than looking for a place to live, I don’t have anything going on right now. I can—”
“No need to continue.” He interrupted with his giant hand held up before him. “Like I said, I’m desperate. I’ll name five drinks. You make ‘em well, and the job is yours temporarily. Sound good?” He must have taken my desperate plea at face value because he didn’t even wait for a response before he started naming drinks. “Long Island Iced Tea, Bloody Mary, Mai Tai, Whiskey Sour, and a Margarita.”
I quickly went about locating the ingredients and making the drinks as the bartender walked away and the Hulk watched. After I lined up all five, he took a sip of each and gave me an almost indifferent look before he hollered across the bar to where the hostess, Sadie, and the guy who’d just left were talking closely. “Derek! Quit flirtin’ and get your ass over here.”
Derek walked over and raised his chin in my direction before turning his attention to his manager behind the bar. “Mickey, quit embarrassing poor Sadie. She just can’t help herself.” One exasperated eye roll later and the Hulk, or I guess I would have to call him Mickey now, pointed toward the drinks, giving Derek a silent command.
“Wow, these are really fucking good. Good thing Ally quit. I should have screwed—” Derek paused at Mickey’s glare but continued almost immediately with an amused grin in place. “I mean, good thing Ally quit before this guy came along and screwed her out of a job anyway.”
“At least this one you won’t sleep with,” Mickey said almost to himself before he shook his head and turned to face me again. “Anyway, the job is yours. Derek will get you the paperwork, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s also looking for a roommate. It’s only a ten-minute walk from here. Perfect for freeing up parking spaces and me not having to worry about your drunk asses getting home after closing.”
“You looking for a place?” Derek inquired.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Mickey spoke first, like he hadn’t even brought up this whole separate subject. “You can start tomorrow night. A Thursday night will give you a nice preview of what to expect on the weekend. If you can come in a half hour early, we can discuss salary and how many hours you want to work.” There was absolutely no way any of what he said was a question, but he looked at me expectantly anyway.
“Sounds great, sir. Thank you so much.” I held out my hand.
Mickey nodded as he wrapped his giant hand around mine and gave it a quick pump. “And no more sir,” he said before stomping away to the front of the restaurant.
“Friendly, ain’t he?” Derek grinned. “What’s your name?”
“Gabe.”
“I bet Mickey didn’t even ask that, did he?”
“No, he didn’t,” I answered before letting out a brief laugh. This was undoubtedly a strange interview.
Derek shook his head before reaching his hand across the bar. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out, but I’m Derek.”
“Good to meet you,” I said as I shook his hand.
“Same here.” He pulled away and began cleaning up my mess. I immediately began helping where I could.
“So you’re looking for a roommate?”
“Yeah.” Derek nodded as he finished off one of my drinks. “Seriously, dude, these are amazing. You’ve really never bartended before?”
I glanced around the bar. “Nope, this is my first bartending gig. I spent the last few months traveling and drinking… a lot. I guess I just picked up a lot of stuff.” He nodded again before picking up the last relatively full drink and tossing it back. “So was that a legit offer?” I asked as I waved my hand in the direction Mickey went.
“Yeah, absolutely. Since this month just started and I’ve already paid the rent, you won’t owe me anything till the fifth of next month. It’s seven fifty a month, utilities and shit included.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
He nodded and looked toward the clock on the wall. “I get off at four. Do you need help moving your stuff?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t have much. I just have a few things I need to pack up from my ex’s place, but other than that, most of my stuff is in my car.”
“All right, sounds good.” Derek grabbed a napkin and scribbled down some information before handing it over. “Here’s my phone number and the address. You can stop by anytime after five.”
I looked down at it before shoving it in my pocket. “Okay, thanks again.”
“No problem,” he said as a phone beeped. Derek pulled it from his pocket before scowling as he typed out a text. After he set the phone on the table, he grabbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes.
My eyebrows pulled together. “Everything okay, man?”
His head snapped up like he’d forgotten I was there.
“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine.” He waved off my question as he schooled his expression. “My sister’s mad at me. Apparently, I don’t treat her boyfriend with enough respect.” He rolled his eyes before pausing to look at me. “You got a sister?”
I nodded as he stepped out from behind the bar.
“Is anyone ever gonna be good enough for her?”
Smiling, I answered, “No.”
“See? It’s a big brother’s job to hate the boyfriend,” he said with a grin as he held out his arms. “And we just happen to be great brothers. You’ll have to make sure and tell my sister that when you meet her.” My smile slipped as he started walking toward the kitchen. “It was good to meet you, Gabe. I’ll see you later tonight?”
Wordlessly, I nodded. He didn’t seem to notice my fallen mood as the door swung shut behind him.
We just happen to be great brothers…
Derek’s words continued to run through my mind, and a year ago, I would have wholeheartedly agreed. I’d been a great older brother. But now… I couldn’t help but wonder if that title still applied.
…
I was quickly packing up the last of my things, hoping to avoid a run-in with Miranda, when I heard her walk through the front door.
“Gabe?” she called out softly.
“Yeah?”
She heaved out a long, relieved sigh before speaking. “I was so happy to see your car outside. After your dad told me you were home, I knew this would be one of the first places—” She stopped suddenly as she rounded the corner. “What—what are you doing?” she choked out.
“Packing?” I turned to give her a look like she was crazy but stopped cold when I saw the tears in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“You’re le-leaving?” She hiccupped.
I dropped the arm I’d extended her way and stared at her in confusion before responding. “You do remember the conversation we had before I left, right? We broke up.”
“No, you broke up with me. Don’t make this sound mutual just to make yourself feel better.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Miranda, we both knew this thing was over,” I said gently. “It had been for a while.”
“Actually, no, I didn’t know that. I thought you just needed some time.”
“I was pretty clear about where things stood when I left.” Despite my growing frustration, I kept my voice soft and sincere.
“I know, but I just thought that was the grief talking. And, well, I kept speaking to your dad, and he made it seem like…” She trailed off and started wiping at her fallen tears.
“Miranda, you know you can’t trust a word out of his mouth.” I paused and looked around. “Is that why you didn’t trash all my stuff? I honestly wasn’t expecting it to still be here. It’s been six months.”
Some of her tears subsided, and anger marred her normally beautiful face. “Yeah, asshole. It’s been six months, and you didn’t contact me once. Yet I have your father telling me not to give up because you were still coming back for me. Look—” She paused to raise her left hand. “I’m still wearing it, and I still love you. I don’t care if you slept with half of Europe. As long as—”
“You should care, Miranda. You deserve better than that. Look, the only reason I told my dad I was coming back to the company and you was to get him off my back. I didn’t expect him to say anything to you and get your hopes up.” I sighed and started running my hands through my hair before giving her the sincerest look I could. “I’m truly sorry he gave you the impression I was coming back to you.”
“Gabe, your mother’s death—”
“Didn’t cause this,” I interrupted. “This was inevitable, and her death only showed me we were never going to work.” I stared hard at the only girl I’d ever loved, remembering all the fun we’d had. I zeroed in on her red-rimmed eyes and thought of all the times I was the one drying her tears instead of causing them. But I couldn’t regret this, because as hard as it was, it needed to happen. Pretending to still love her would be worse than breaking up with her.
“If we were truly meant to be, I would have wanted your comfort, but I didn’t. You would have been devastated at the idea of me sleeping with one girl, let alone half of Europe, but you’re not.” She winced, and I quickly added, “I still care about you. I always will. You were my best friend. But I think you know I’m right, and deep down, you even feel the same way. You’re just blinded by what we had and what our families expect of us.”
She regarded me sadly before coming closer. When she reached me, she placed a hand on my cheek, imploring me to look at her. “That’s not true. I love you, Gabe. I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was.”
I shook my head and stepped out of her reach. “You love the idea of us, nothing more.” She opened her mouth to dispute my claim, but I cut her off. “I got a job this morning, at a bar near campus.”
“What?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion at the abrupt change and disapproval of the words themselves.
I nodded before crossing my arms over my chest. “As a bartender. Can you still tell me you love me and will stand by me if I’m not in charge of some Fortune 500 company?”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s been a year, and I understand this is hard for you. But this little rebellion isn’t going to help matters. Your mother wouldn’t want you derailing your life. She wouldn’t want you to spend your life grieving hers. She would want you to live as you planned. She’d want you to become somebody. No one wants a son whose sole ambition in life is to be a bartender. That’s not a career, Gabe.” She immediately stopped when she saw my intense glare.
I huffed out a bitter laugh under my breath before shaking my head. “Yeah, but you still love me, right?” The sarcasm in my voice was about as subtle as a bomb. I continued packing my things until the last two boxes were full. The room was bare except for the empty dresser, dusty desk, and stripped bed.
“I’m not a bad person just because I want financial stability from the man I love,” she whispered as I stacked the boxes and bent to lift them.
“No, you’re not. But I don’t believe someone in love with me would basically call me a loser and tell me my mother would be embarrassed by me.” I straightened, sans boxes, and turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Do you?”
She had the decency to look ashamed when she responded, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Others might only hear it as an apology, but I heard the truth. I heard what she wasn’t saying: It’s the truth. I just wish I hadn’t said it.
“I’m not going back to my father’s company, and I’m not marrying you. And that’s never going to change. I’m not trying to be cruel by stating things so bluntly; it’s quite the opposite, actually. I want you to be able to move on from this. I don’t want to leave you with any kind of false hope.”
She nodded, but her eyes still showed determination. “Have you told your father any of this?”
“Not yet. I went by the house, but he was… preoccupied. I left before—” I cut myself off. “Wait. How’d he know I was home? I never told him my plans.”
“He saw you pulling away from the house.”
I nodded absentmindedly. “Right. Well, I’m going to tell him. I just wanted to have a job lined up first.”
Miranda gave me a sad smile. “You and I both know he’s not going to consider that any kind of plan.”
“I know. But I have to do something that’s for me. I can’t live my life for him. I won’t.” I picked up the boxes and moved toward the door. Miranda stepped out of my way, and even though the hope in her eyes wasn’t completely gone, it was a least dulled.
“I’ll still talk to you, right?” Her voice trembled with doubt even as her face was hopeful and pleading. I returned her sad smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek before whispering in her ear, “Goodbye, Miranda.”
Caleb finally went home last night, thereby ending the seventy-two-hour sex marathon and affording me my first restful sleep in three nights. It was just after ten in the morning, and I was setting the table by the time Naomi wandered out of her room. She yawned and scratched her head as she took in the waffles, fruit salad, sausage, toast, and coffee sitting on the table before gracelessly plopping into a chair.
“Are you conditioning me?”
“Whaa?” I asked around the handful of fruit I’d just thrown into my mouth.
“You know, conditioning me. Making me breakfast the day after Caleb leaves so I associate the two. Which will then make me want to throw Caleb out more often so I can have your delicious homemade breakfast, thereby giving you what you want, a Caleb-free apartment.” She’d just finished buttering her toast as she sat back and raised her eyebrows at me with a small grin on her face.
My jaw went slack as I stared at her before I gave way to my laughter. “Are you insane?” I picked up a grape and threw it at her head. “Is this a prelaw, I-must-question-everything thing or a you-need-medication thing?”
She snorted before she started laughing with me. “It was a joke thing, but yeah, prelaw definitely fucks with your trust. I bet in five years I won’t even trust my own stomach when it tells me I’m hungry.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“So, assuming you and my stomach are not plotting against me… what’s all this for?” She waved at the table as she started piling waffles on her plate.
I shifted nervously and twisted the dishrag in my hand before tossing it on the counter and joining her at the table. “I think maybe we should go out this weekend.” I tried to sound casual, but Naomi’s reaction was proof positive that I sounded anything but.
“Really?” she practically squealed.
“Yeah, well… that’s what normal people do, right?” I laughed, trying to make it a joke and play off my discomfort. But just like everything else, Naomi always heard what I wasn’t saying. She saw the insecurity and pain behind my jokes and the sadness behind my laughs.
“There’s no such thing as normal people.” She gave me a stern look until I nodded. “If you want to do something, do it. If you don’t, don’t.”
“Right, ‘cause that’s so simple.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “You’re not wrong, okay? I hear what you’re saying. But there are things I want, and I think the only way to get them, unfortunately, is to do things I don’t necessarily want to do.”
Her lips curved into a mischievous and knowing smile. “Things?”
I rolled my eyes, at much as myself as at her. “Yes, things. I think… I might… sort of… want to start dating again.” I stopped to think about David, my first and only boyfriend. We’d dated for about nine months, starting at the end of our senior year of high school and breaking up on Valentine’s Day when we were freshman in college. It was far from ideal and made me realize just how complicated and difficult dating and depression were.
I gnawed on my lip as I thought about it. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe—
“I think it’s good.” Naomi paused as she reached over to squeeze my hand. “That you want to try, and for now, I think that’s all that matters.”
…
So that was how I found myself staring at a pile of halter tops, miniskirts, and an assortment of animal-print items from Naomi’s closet the next night. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She knew me well. She knew if she didn’t take me up on my offer to go out immediately, chances were I’d change my mind. And sure enough, I already had, just over thirty hours later. Me and my big mouth. My big, stupid, fat, stupid mouth.
My fingers absentmindedly skimmed over my scar as I stared at the clothes on Naomi’s bed. “This is ridiculous,” I mumbled just as she turned off her blow-dryer. And despite the blow-dryer and “Weapon for Saturday” blasting in the background, Naomi still heard me, which she made clear by her I heard that glare.
She plopped down on the floor in front of her closet mirror before declaring, “We need a girls’ night.”
I glared right back and started listing all the things I did in fact need, such as air, water, food, etc., and nowhere in there did “girls’ night” come up.
She met my eyes in the mirror and made it clear she wasn’t impressed with my sarcasm before returning to her task. It was also pretty clear Naomi wasn’t in the mood to have this argument tonight. Although, to be fair, she was never really in the mood, but her patience seemed particularly low tonight. Apparently, that feeling was short lived, because two minutes later, she started having this conversation again.
“We just had this conversation, yes?” Naomi asked as she stuck out the tip of her tongue and raised the mascara wand to her top left lashes.
“Yeah,” I mumbled like a grumpy toddler.
She raised her hands like she was surrendering. “Hey, you’re the one who said—”
“I know. I’m an idiot.”
She laughed and went back to doing her makeup. “Well, if you don’t want to meet new people, you could always call—”
“Do not say Chad.” I held up a cheetah-print halter top that left very little to the imagination. Dropping it in the hell no pile, I moved on to the few neutral shirts she owned.
“Why the hell not? What exactly was wrong with him? He seemed pretty cool. A perfect height for you, blond hair, blue eyes, and a body that would make David Beckham jealous.” Naomi’s eyes went dreamy as she brought her hands up to her chest and pretended to swoon.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s obviously much more realistic to base my interest on his abs and pectorals. We’re clearly a match made in heaven. Oh my God!” I fake gasped and face-palmed my forehead. “Why didn’t we just get married? He’s probably taken by now.”
“Cute.” Naomi threw the pillow lying next to her at my face before getting up and strolling out of her room and into the common area.
Ditching my sarcasm and taking a serious tone, I left her bedroom and found her rooting around our fridge.
“I’m not trying to be difficult. Yes, Chad was really nice, but it wasn’t going to go anywhere. I mean, he was ready to rush right into everything, and I need something slow, like glacially slow. You know that.”
She sighed before shutting the fridge empty-handed and coming to stand next to me at the counter. With a gentle hip bump, she said, “I just want you to be sure.”
I gave her an encouraging smile before reaching over and softly squeezing her hand. “I am. I promise. Now let’s finish getting ready.”
We both went back to her room, where I sat on her bed and resumed my search from earlier as she started changing into her outfit for the night.
“Why don’t you just wear what you’ve already got on?” she asked.
I looked up as she started gathering her dark hair into a bun. Raising an eyebrow, I responded, “Because you and Sherry always say I need to dress less like a librarian.”
She laughed and turned back to the mirror. “I’m pretty sure that was all Sher. But, seriously, we’re just joking. You always look nice, and it’s always better to be comfortable. Getting you out of your comfort zone doesn’t mean we have to throw you in the deep end without any kind of lifesaver.”
“Okay, but you’re the one who’s explaining that to Sherry,” I said as I stood up and started heading to my room.
“Are you sure you don’t mind going out tonight?” she asked one more time.
I paused in her doorway and turned around to see a concerned look had washed over her face. I wanted to tell her yes, I did mind and just wasn’t feeling it tonight. But she was right when she said I had wanted this. I guess it’s just easier to want something from a distance, where all the scary realities are tiny and blurred. And although she never meant to, her looks of pity made me feel guilty about being the constant Debbie-downer.
This was the last Thursday before school started, and since Naomi was about to spend the semester taking the LSAT and applying for law schools, she was going to be going out less this year, meaning she was really looking forward to this last weekend of summer.
I gave her a bright smile that undoubtedly looked fake and said, “Of course I don’t mind. I was just being dramatic.”
Naomi knew my real smile, my fake smile, and everything in between, so when she gave a slight frown and lowered her voice, I wasn’t surprised. “Look, if you really don’t want to go out, we can just go to dinner or something.” She sounded as enthusiastic as a kid going to the dentist, but I knew she meant it.
“Sherry is probably wearing a skintight dress and an insane amount of makeup. If we go anywhere else, she’ll look like a prostitute.”
She smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I made a move to leave when her voice stopped me again. “Hey, Alara?”
“Yeah?”
She opened her mouth but was silenced by a knock at the front door. With a quick glance behind me, she put on a relieved smile that she didn’t have to finish what she was about to say and walked toward the door. “That’s probably Sher,” she said as she passed.
I followed her and made it to the living room just as Sherry crossed the threshold. Her long, auburn hair was full and in beachy curls that extended past her barely covered chest. She wore a strapless, skintight red dress that ended mid-thigh and shifted to an almost indecent level every time she moved. She walked in so smoothly you’d think she was barefoot instead of strapped into four-inch heels. Sherry, unlike me, had the coordination required to wear those death traps.
I’d gone out numerous times over the last few months in my efforts to be more social, and almost every time, I was told “girls’ nights” demanded I wear a pair. And despite all the practice, I never stopped walking like a horse with gum attached to its hoof that was on the verge of falling over every twenty seconds. But ever since I’d known Sherry, she’d walked like they were made for her.
“I have a confession,” Sherry said, snapping me out of my random thoughts. “I may have pre-gamed a tiny bit in the cab.” She brought her thumb and pointer finger up and made the gesture for just a little bit before pulling out a flask of what was probably tequila. “But don’t worry. I left enough for each of us to do one shot before we go. Please tell me you have limes and salt.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone has salt in their kitchen, Sher.” Naomi walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. “But it’s a negative on the limes.”
Sherry huffed. “You really need to be more prepared for these things.”
“Sorry. Next time my boyfriend comes over, I’ll tell him not to use the limes for dinner, just in case my alcoholic friend shows up demanding them with her tequila.”
“That would be appreciated,” Sherry said with a smile, not the least bit insulted.
“I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be pre-gaming either, what with the whole designated driver thing,” I said.
“What? You’re not driving.” Sherry turned toward me with an incredulous look as Naomi took out her cell. “This is girls’ night and girls’ night requires us all to drink. And I’m not saying get drunk, because I know you”—she paused to point to Naomi—“only like to do that when you’re at home. And you”—pointing to me this time—“don’t like to get drunk at all. But just have a couple drinks. Just loosen us all up, yeah?”
Naomi’s hands froze over her phone as she looked up. “Sher, she’s not supposed to drink at all while taking her meds.”
Sherry’s face fell. “Shit, I forgot. It’s just been so long. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I waved her off. “I can have a little bit. We’ll just be careful and monitor it well.” I looked at Naomi and lifted my eyebrows in question. “My doctor said it’s better than stopping cold turkey,” I added.
She cast me a doubtful glance before setting her phone down and crossing her arms. After eyeing me for several seconds, she asked, “And you promise you’ll be honest if you start feeling anxious, overwhelmed, sad—?”
“Yes.” I cut her off. If she listed everything, we’d be here all night. Clearing my throat, my gaze traveled between them. “I promise.”
Naomi nodded warily while Sherry whooped.
I smiled, but inside I felt a little numb. I hated the fact that my depression was affecting any part of my friends’ lives. Even something as simple as this, them not being able to let loose because they’d be worrying about me.
“This is perfect. More for me,” Sherry said as she winked and gave me a reassuring smile, almost like she knew the dangerous turn my thoughts had taken.
“So…” I started, now more desperate to get us back on track. “Are you just going to crash on our couch tonight?” I directed my question toward Sherry.
“Nope, I’m gonna crash on your bed. Because we’re gonna find you a guy tonight.” She winked as she took out her lipstick and reapplied.
“What happened to girls’ night?”
Sherry waved her hand in the air. “After girls’ night, we’ll find you a guy.”
“You think I’m going to meet my soul mate in a bar?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “I have no clue—and neither do you. So stop acting like you know everything for five seconds and come out and have fun without thinking about what’s gonna come of it. Okay?” The smile never left her face, but I knew she still thought she had to persuade me. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“Now who thinks they know everything,” I muttered.
“Are you guys ready?” Naomi asked as she finished slipping on her shoes.
Sherry hollered an affirmative while I slipped on my nude ballet flats, readying myself for a bar night just like any other.