“Great news, Ace.”
I looked up from the cooler I’d just de-iced, boxes of beer littering the floor of the bar. Brody beamed at me, looking like he’d just won the lottery or something.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Happy to have this hunk of junk back in commission?”
“Well, that’s nice too, of course, but I happen to know that your redhead is staying here in town. Saw her working on her bike in the parking lot at the motel.”
I let out my breath in a whoosh and rocked back on my heels. “I don’t know if that’s necessarily good news,” I admitted.
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little challenge.”
“I thought she was just moving through town,” I said. “I didn’t think she’d be staying. I didn’t think I’d see her again.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you give up on a girl you liked,” Brody said. His eyes danced with amusement, the blue closer to corn silk than the deepness of the redhead’s blue eyes. I shook my head, more than a little horrified at the thought that had sprung into my mind, errant and unwelcome.
“I don’t think I like her.”
“I call bullshit. She’s gorgeous. Just your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
“Yes, you do. You like women. She’s a woman. She’s your type.”
“Laugh it up,” I told him as I replaced the beer in the cooler, arranging it by type so it would be easier to dig out for patrons when we started hitting a rush over the weekend. It was hard to find a seat in here on the weekends, because time off from work meant time in the bar. The people of Rio Seco had their priorities right, in my opinion, if I was interested in the success of the bar and the tips making my wallet fat.
I didn’t know how I felt about the redhead staying at the motel. Well, I knew how I felt about it, I just didn’t know which feeling I should examine first. The initial shot of anxiety was accompanied by curiosity. What was she in town for? This was a place to pass through, but the most action the motel usually saw was for trysts that had to stay away from home and for people to live in temporarily after those trysts got discovered at home. I couldn’t ignore the bubbling determination at getting another chance to crack the mystery of her, to try and figure out what I’d done that first day and worm my way into her heart.
Or, if we were being honest here, her pants. I wasn’t an angel.
The second time the mystery woman came into the bar, I was ready for her.
At least, I thought I was.
“I have a lukewarm beer sitting right out here for you, with your name on it,” I said, opening the bottle with a flourish. It wasn’t hard to dig into my memory to recall what she’d been drinking the last time I saw her, even if it was just last week.
“Very funny,” she said, taking a sip, knowing it was perfectly chilled before she even picked it up, condensation sliding down the glass.
“I mean, if that’s the only one you’re planning on having this afternoon, I’m sure it’ll be lukewarm at some point,” I said, polishing a non-existent spot out of the surface of the bar, pretending like I was busy.
“I’ll let you know,” she assured me a clear dismissal. I was never super good at recognizing those, though.
“I’m Ace, by the way,” I said. “In case you need anything else.”
Her lip curled. “Ace? Really?”
“My hand to God.”
“Your mother give you that name?”
Who pissed in her cereal this morning? “No. My mother gave me another name. One I don’t like as well as the name my friends gave me.”
The mystery woman’s blue eyes sparkled with something close to mischief. “I don’t know if you could call them friends if they tell you referring to yourself as ‘Ace’ is acceptable behavior.”
“Now, I can stomach you making fun of my name, but I can’t stomach you making fun of my friends. They may be idiots sometimes, but they’re the best guys around. Family.”
“Good friends are hard to find,” she agreed, sounding almost reluctant to do so.
“Is that why you’re in town?” I asked. “Visiting friends?” I was just fishing around. She’d been in the bar twice, now, and both times had arrived and departed alone in spite of my best efforts.
“No,” she said, pursing her lips as she considered her answer. “I’m on vacation.”
“Strange place to vacation in,” I said. “I would’ve pegged you for a snow bunny. Skiing has to be great in Taos right about now.”
She lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Skiing’s not my thing. Bike doesn’t do well in the snow, besides.”
“That’s right.” I leaned forward, over the bar, and tapped the top of her helmet. “You been riding long?”
“Long enough.”
“Gone on any memorable trips?”
“The one I’m on right now is pretty memorable.”
“Can’t beat New Mexico.”
“It’s got some pretty nice open roads.”
“I know some nice rides around the area,” I said. “My friends the ones who gave me the name you like so much we have a motorcycle club. I could show you.”
She wrinkled her nose a little at me. “Motorcycle club? Are you telling me you’re in a gang?”
“Did I say gang?”
“You said motorcycle club. I inferred gang.”
Jesus. I couldn’t even talk about a shared interest without her grinding her boot into my face.
“We’re just a bunch of guys who like motorcycles. The club’s a way to socialize.”
“You can’t socialize without leather vests covered in cheesy patches?”
“Am I wearing a leather vest?”
Her wide blue eyes might’ve signaled innocence to any other person, but to me, they showed nothing but insolence. I blundered onward because I had nothing to lose.
“The club means different things to different people,” I said. “I like it because it sort of formalizes things among us. We pay dues, and that money goes to different things, like trips or fees at events or upkeep at this bar.”
“The club owns the bar?”
“It’s a club bar,” I said, nodding. “We share the same name. Horizon MC.”
“Sounds like a place you’d go for rehab.”
“Poke fun all you want,” I said with some dignity. “The club’s a good thing. The guys in the club…they’re family. You might not understand that concept, as rude as you are, but some people actually want to be around other people.”
She blinked swiftly, surprised. “Ouch, Ace. That one stung a little bit.”
“If you were a little bit nicer, maybe you could find a club to belong to.”
“What, so I could run drugs and guns and be in trouble with the law all the time? You’re crazy.”
I laughed at her. “You watch too much TV.”
“You’re trying to tell me it’s not like that?”
“I don’t have to try. It’s not. We have fundraisers. We do good in the community. And we genuinely enjoy spending time together. The dues we pay to be a part of the club can also be used for emergencies.”
“And what kind of emergencies does the club face?” She pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth twitching in mirth. “Rival gangs trying to carve out a corner of your turf for themselves?” I was glad she was finding so much glee in this. So, so glad. It was an absolute joy.
“No. One of our members, for example, lost someone close to him. We pooled our funds and helped out with the funeral.”
“Well, that’s noble.”
“They’re like family to me. They really are.”
“Family you have to pay to hang around?”
I exhaled with a whoosh of air. “What is so hard to understand about the club? Do you not have anyone in your life who can stand to be that close to you? I mean, I’d understand, since you’re so difficult.”
Her face was still open, but I noticed that she was clutching the neck of the beer bottle so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “I might’ve used to have that. Not so long ago. But not anymore.”
I could’ve asked a follow-up question, because there clearly was something there, but I found that I didn’t care. I didn’t give a single fuck about who she might’ve lost to make her act this way because she was so clearly enjoying taking a huge shit on my guys, and they meant the world to me.
I loved women. I really did. But I’d never met a single one I’d wanted to put before the guys I rode with.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” I said.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she retorted, her voice sharp.
“Another beer, is what I meant by that,” I sighed, only barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her. Was she that arrogant that she thought every word directed at her was a come-on? Okay, if I was being perfectly honest, I had been pretty obsessed with her. But if she’d been beautiful and cloying in her mystery the first day I’d interacted with her, this second time had taken a real nosedive.
I was saved from further words when a group of regulars strolled in, raucous and ready to drink. Soon enough, I was pouring shots and knocking a couple back with them just to numb the strange ache that had taken up residence inside me. I tried to bury myself with the regulars, immersing my attention in their stories and tall tales, some of which I’d heard too many times to count. But I couldn’t keep from watching the redhead from the corner of my eye, the level of beer in her bottle growing lower and lower, counting down the minutes when I’d interact with her again. Would she ratchet up her venom, now that she had an audience? Or would she put on a show of sweetness?
Neither, as it turned out. I watched her as she tipped the last of her beer down her throat, replaced the empty bottle on the bar top, slap a couple of dollars next to it, and pushed herself back and off the barstool without so much as a glance in my direction. As she moved to the door, it was like we had a string stretched between us. I couldn’t resist trailing along behind her, squinting as she threw open the door and let the golden light of the setting sun filter into the darkened bar. She’d parked her bike right behind mine, on the other side of the street, and I had to admire a nice ride when I saw one she clearly knew what she liked, and kept the bike in order.
“Didn’t I leave the correct change?” she called across the street, securing her helmet under her chin.
I jumped a little, gritting my teeth at getting caught like this. This was definitely stalker territory, following a woman whose name I didn’t even know out of the bar.
“You’re fine,” I said. “I just…wanted to invite you to an event that the club is going to be hosting over the weekend.”
She wrinkled her nose. “An event? Your motorcycle club is hosting an event?”
“Yeah. It’s a fundraiser.” It was stupid. I hadn’t really meant to invite her. I just thought I needed a reason for following her out here.
“A fundraiser.” Repeated. Flat.
“Don’t believe me?” I pointed down the street. “There’s a park there. Not much to look at. We’re having a cookout and party to raise funds to revamp it. Part of downtown revitalization efforts.”
“If you say so,” she said, taking a long, dubious look at the crumbling main street and its mass of abandoned buildings. She kicked a leg over her bike and started it, revving it as she blew by me and down the street, making some kind of point I wasn’t sure I understood. I didn’t understand my own actions, standing out in front of the bar like a fool, inviting a woman to a charity event she wasn’t going to attend. If the rest of the guys could see me now, they wouldn’t let me live this down. I wasn’t sure Iwas going to let myself live this down the woman I couldn’t even get a name from, a game I had apparently failed to learn how to play.
I stood out there until the sound of her engine faded into the wind, the old buildings casting long shadows in the streets, air chilling wherever the sun didn’t hit. Tonight was going to be cold again, and I wondered if I could find someone to warm my bed, someone to distract me from the woman I couldn’t understand. There was something bigger there than me failing to relate to a woman so thoroughly. Something that kept me dwelling on it, and kept her coming back.
When I shuffled back into the bar, intent on drowning my sorrows, I realized that Jack had slipped in through the back, jerking his chin at me from his customary spot in the booth.
“When did you get here?” I asked, detouring from the bar and approaching him. I hoped it wasn’t in time to see my latest episode of crashing and burning with the redhead.
“Just now,” he told me. “Passed the redhead on my way in. Looks good on a bike.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“She got a name yet?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.” He laughed at me, shaking his head. “Is this your most epic fail yet on the dating scene?”
“I haven’t failed anything yet. I think she’ll be back.”
But Jack could see straight through my bravado. “Better keep this quiet, Ace. Small town like Rio Seco, word gets around pretty fast. You don’t want to ruin that reputation you’re so careful about.”
“Man, at this point, I’m willing to open things up.”
“What do you mean?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Have at her if you think you have a better chance at cracking whatever her case is.”
Jack laughed again. “No way. I’m having fun watching you struggle.”
“You’re cruel. Terribly cruel.”
“I’m benevolent,” he tried to argue, ruining the earnestness of the words by cackling evilly. “Mostly. Here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, just to show you what a nice guy I am. Take the night off. Park your ass in this booth. Get drunk with me.”
“What’s the occasion?” Chuck asked, sliding in behind me to scoot around next to Jack.
“Ace still doesn’t know the redhead’s name,” Jack informed him, glee coloring his words.
“Wow, really?” I blinked at him. “Benevolent. That’s not what benevolent sounds like.”
“Poor Ace,” Chuck said. “You giving him the night off, then?”
“Trying to,” Jack said easily, putting his hands behind his head and kicking back in the booth. “What do you say?”
“Got to earn my keep around here,” I said. “Maybe it’d be better to try and stay busy.”
“I’ll keep you busy taking shots,” he cajoled. “Let Haley take the bar.”
Chuck laughed. “Keep that up and Ace will be out of a job.”
Haley took that opportunity to pass by. “I could put you out of work any day, old man.”
“See?” Chuck beamed like a proud papa he was so transparent. If he couldn’t see the gigantic crush he had on her, the rest of us certainly could.
“We should do a popularity contest,” Haley suggested. “See who’s the most-loved bartender at Horizon.”
“Hell, no,” I groused. “You’re prettier than I am.”
“Damn straight,” she said with a decisive nod. “And I’m more liberal with the mixed drinks.”
“Are you hearing this, bud?” I asked Jack, gesturing in faux exasperation. “This pretty young thing’s costing you money.”
“Careful, or I’ll run the numbers,” he warned me. “See what kinds of profits we pull in on days you work the bar versus days when Haley works it.”
“Don’t do that, or I really will be out of a job,” I said, mildly worried. People loved Haley.
“I think this bar’s big enough for the both of you,” Jack said. “Haley, you good with taking the bar tonight?”
“You know it,” she said with a sassy swish of her hips. “You sick or what, Ace?”
“Lady trouble,” Jack put delicately.
“Ooh, that redhead?” Haley pursed her lips in sympathy. “Good luck.”
“Does everyone know?” I sighed, hiding my face with my hands.
“Keep the drinks coming over here,” Jack recommended as Chuck slapped my back in what I was sure he thought was a comforting way.
“Please,” I coughed, arching away from Chuck.
“Aw, what’s this?” Brody complained, sitting heavily in the booth beside Jack. “I have Ace behind the bar tonight, not Haley.”
“Executive decision,” Jack said as Chuck dragged me into the booth. “Ace is having a sick day.”
“Apparently,” I threw in, since Brody was technically my boss. Even if Jack was his boss.
“You’re such a micromanager,” Brody teased Jack. “How about you make the schedules for now on, seeing as how you keep changing them?”
“Or you could just fire Brody,” I suggested, keen to keep my job, and regretting that I’d agreed to take tonight off on a whim, in despair about the redhead. Maybe she’d take pity on me if she realized how much grief she was causing me.
“Are we having a party?” Sloan had arrived, squeezing in to the booth, meaning that the gang was all here. It was a little too cozy with all five of us sitting in there, but that meant we were complete, as hokey as that sounded.
“If tonight gets busy, I’m going to have a hard time manning the bar and the floor,” Haley reminded us, setting a couple of pitchers of beer and five cups on the table in front of us.
“I’ll step in, if that happens,” I promised her.
“Or we’ll make Jack do it, since he’s so interested in business decisions lately,” Brody threw in.
“I don’t know shit about making drinks,” Jack said placidly. “I just have enough money to throw around to make all this magic happen.”
“Kind of incestuous, if you think hard about it, the three of you working together,” Chuck said as Haley left. “Makes me glad I’m a mechanic and not a server, working with you all at the bar.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think we’d get anything near the kinds of sales we usually get with you on the floor,” Jack told him.
“I’m offended,” Chuck said. “I think I’d be pretty good at it. You’ve just never given me a chance.”
“I thought you didn’t even want to work here,” Jack said, cocking his head.
“Well, I didn’t until I discovered you had no faith in my skills as a cocktail waitress.”
We all laughed at that mental image. Chuck was a big guy with rough hands. The idea of a wine stem between his thick fingers or a tray of drinks balanced on their calloused tips was about as incongruous as it got. He was a poet when it came to engines and body work and all things mechanical, but Jack was right he’d be out of place trying to tend to the drunken masses here.
I liked having the guys around me. We gathered in twos and threes on a regular basis, but it felt like it had to be an official Horizon MC thing to get all five of us in the same place. We met officially at least once a month more if we had an event planned and tried to gather up to go on long rides every week or two. We all had our separate lives to lead, though, even if motorcycles and giving back to the community were near the top of everyone’s lists.
“We should make this a regular thing,” I said.
“Make what a regular thing?” Jack asked me.
“This. All of us coming to the bar and just getting drunk.”
Brody scoffed at me. “That already is a regular thing.”
“I know, but all together. Like this. Mandatory socializing.”
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” Jack said, laughing. “We don’t need any additional encouragement to drink around here.”
“But I like seeing everyone in an informal setting,” I said. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing to plan. The only thing we have to do is drink.”
“Should we make these informal gatherings thrice weekly?” Sloan asked. “Is that too much to hope for?”
“I was going to suggest meeting every day that ends in a ‘Y,’” Chuck said with a cheeky grin. “Very, very official informal beer meetings.”
“Very important for club morale,” Brody said, making Jack laugh and shake his head.
“You know, while we are all here together,” Jack said, and we groaned on cue. “What? I just wanted to know if everything’s ready for the park fundraiser.”
“I thought this was social drinking,” I remarked, raising a plastic pitcher meaningfully. Haley caught the gesture from across the room and brought out a full one to replace the one we’d drained.
“You’re taking this sick day pretty seriously, looks like,” she remarked.
“All you need to do is let me know if you’re falling behind on anything, and I’ll jump right in,” I promised.
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” she said, giving me a wink.
“Oh, careful, there,” Sloan warned. “Chuck’s going to get jealous if you give Ace too much attention.”
“Watch it,” Chuck complained, aiming a whack at the back of Sloan’s head. “Or I’ll give you some attention.”
“The fundraiser,” Jack prompted. “What still needs to be done?”
“Nothing, really,” Brody said. “Right? We’re ready to go?”
“Well, practically ready,” I said. “We need to buy the hamburgers and hotdogs still, but no use doing that until the night before or the day of.”
“I just want it to go off without a hitch,” Jack said. “I think there are going to be a lot of people there.”
“That’s good,” Chuck said. “More people, more money.”
“Should we adjust the meat we agreed to buy?” Jack fretted. “Should we get more?”
“If we need more, we’ll get more,” I assured him. “No use worrying about it now. Let the grill master worry. I’ll be on duty to make another grocery store run, if it comes down to that.”
“What about the raffle items?”
“Those have been ready for days,” Sloan said. “Jack, you need to relax. Everything’s good to go.”
“I just really want this to be big,” he said. “Super successful.”
“People care about revitalizing the town, and the park would be part of that,” Brody said. “We have hundreds of people who said they were coming on the Facebook page. It’s going to be great.”
“Are you the one who should be drinking to forget?” I asked Jack, pounding him on the back. “I thought this was my party, bud.”
“Such a drama queen,” Jack sighed, shaking his head at me. “Last person to finish their beer has to buy the next pitcher.”
We played a couple of drinking games to get things back on track, but the conversation eventually wound back around to the real reason of our gathering getting my mind off of my various failings with the mysterious redhead and reminding me of everything everyone had promised to help me forget.
“So what do you think she does for a living?” Jack asked me, his eyes twinkling.
“Who?”
That earned me a cuff to the head via Chuck. “You know who. The redhead.”
“You’d have to ask her,” I said with a shrug. “I have no idea.”
“You have to have some kind of idea,” Brody cajoled. “Come on. Not even any guesses?”
“I don’t know,” I mused. “What’s a career where you can be rude to people and cagey as hell and still get away with it?”
“Department of Motor Vehicles?” Sloan guessed.
“Receptionist at a public high school,” Chuck said, frowning as we all burst into laughter. “What, none of you had a bad experience? I swear, the woman who worked at my school would make you sweat if you wanted to use the office phone to call home in an emergency. She made girls cry who came down there asking to see the school nurse. Is it only me?”
“Only you, Chuck,” Brody confirmed. “The office manager at my high school was a peach. Absolutely fantastic.”
“Maybe the redhead’s a call girl,” Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“You’re just being a jerk,” I told him.
“Hey, there’s a lot of men who’d pay good money to get talked down to like she’s been talking down to you,” he pointed out. “What, no humiliation kink?”
“Not really my cup of tea,” I informed him. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
“Wow, you don’t even know her name and you’re defending her?” Sloan gave a low whistle. “Does that raise a red flag for anyone else around this table?”
“Red flags for the redhead,” Chuck said, waving an imaginary flag of his own.
I shook my head. “How did this turn into a day to cause me pain?” I demanded. “This is supposed to be a sick day. A day of recovery for all the turmoil I’ve endured.”
“The pangs of unrequited love have struck our comrade down,” Jack said, lifting his nose. “Let us drink to help him forget her.”
“Unrequited love.” Brody heaved a sigh. “It’s the saddest thing in the world.”
“Okay, first of all, it’s not unrequited love,” I said. “It’s not unrequited anything, because I’m not even sure I like the redhead.”
There was a moment of silence before everyone in the booth roared with laughter. It was so loud that even the people bellied up to the bar, sitting on the stools, turned to ogle us to see if they could figure out just what was so funny. I was apparently the funny thing, and the rest of the guys were having quite a chuckle at my expense.
“Ace, pal,” Sloan said, patting my hand fondly. “If you didn’t like her, there wouldn’t be any drama whatsoever. The fact that you’re pining over her”
“There is no pining involved,” I cut in.
He waved me away as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “Our friend doth protest too much. There’s something there. You have to at least admit that.”
“I don’t have to admit anything.”
“You decided to call in sick because she rejected you a second time,” Brody said, his eyebrows raised, palms turned toward the sky. “Isn’t that what happened?”
“What the hell?” I complained, looking around the table. “What is this? You’re all worse than a bunch of old ladies with your gossip. See if I ever trust any of you with anything again.”
“Hey, to throw a pity party correctly, people have to be well informed,” Chuck said. “Am I right?”
“I have no idea what you are,” I said, pouring myself another glass of beer more out of disgust than true thirst. “You all are the sorriest friends a guy could ever have.”
“Aw, we love you, too, Ace,” Jack said, clinking his glass against mine. “Now. Let’s work up a plan for you to get with Red.”
“Red?”
“She has to have a name. Calling her ‘the redhead’ is kind of impersonal, right?”
I shook my head at him. “You just shortened it to Red. Now it’s not only impersonal, it’s lazy.”
Jack chose to ignore me completely, even as I continued to be the focus of conversation. “So Ace hasn’t been able to get lucky with Red, and he needs to because how else is he going to get on with his life?”
“Seriously, the worst friends ever.”
“What, are you mean to her?” Chuck asked, fixing me with a frown. “You know I don’t like that shit.”
“Who’s saying I’m mean to her?” I demanded, putting my face in my hands and barely resisting the urge to yank my own hair out of my head. “No one is saying that I’m mean to her. I’m not. If anything, she’s mean to me.”
“But women aren’t mean to you,” Chuck said patiently. “Women love you.”
“Believe me. I’m as puzzled as you.” I was beginning to sincerely regret skipping out on work tonight, especially if I was just going to get alternately grilled and roasted for the duration.
“Man, if you can’t figure a woman out, there’s no hope for any of us,” Sloan moaned.
“Now, now, that’s backwards thinking,” Brody said, wagging a finger in Sloan’s face. “If you don’t understand a woman, it’s because you’re not listening well enough. Not because she is unknowable.”
“Where did you find this guy?” I asked Jack, raising my eyebrows. Jack shrugged in response.
“So, Ace,” Brody continued, folding his hands before him on the table like he was some kind of professional at this. “What has Red been saying? What have you been hearing?”
“That she hates me on principle,” I said.
“No,” Brody groaned, his face scrunched up in dismay. “Really?”
“That’s what it seems like,” I said. “I mean, she hasn’t even given me her name. She called the club a gang. She doesn’t even like Rio Seco.”
“Okay, this is…don’t get me wrong, for you, this sucks, but for humankind, this is good,” Brody said.
“If you’re trying to cheer him up, I don’t think it’s working,” Sloan volunteered.
“Ace, if you figure out what’s going on with Red, will it cheer you up?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Worth a try, right?”
“You had an ailment, and I have a prescription to soothe your ills,” Brody declared. “She’s just not that into you.”
Silence reigned over the booth before Jack spluttered into laughter.
“She’s just not that into you?” he asked before his laughter entered the guffawing territory. “Is that supposed to make Ace feel better?”
“Really thankful for your support, there, bud,” I said, rolling my eyes as, one by one, Chuck and Sloan started losing it, too. “Thank you, this night is exactly what I needed. Yes, excellent. Thank you for this.”
“What’s funny?” Brody asked, genuinely at a loss. “That Red’s not into Ace?”
“No, I think we’d call that an anomaly,” Jack said, one hand holding his stomach, the other thumbing tears of mirth away from his eyes. “Most women are into Ace. He’s obviously into Red, which is what makes it sad that she’s apparently not into him. The funny part comes in when you think your advice is helpful.”
“What? It’s not?” Brody looked at me, the very picture of innocence. “Is it not helpful?”
“It is not,” I said with some dignity. “Especially since I suspect that she actually is into me.”
“Careful,” Chuck rumbled.
I held my hands up. “I’m not suggesting anything untoward. I’ve been a gentleman.”
“What on God’s green Earth makes you think, then, that you have a chance with her if she hasn’t even given you her name?”
“She keeps coming back.” I smiled and spread my hands in front of me. “Twice.”
“We’re the only bar in town,” Jack said, sympathy painted on his face. “Could be she’s just been thirsty for beer twice.”
“If she was thirsty for beer, she could always pick up a six-pack at the grocery store,” I pointed out. “She’s come back here, to this bar, twice. The second time after the first time.”
“That’s usually what ‘twice’ means,” Jack confirmed gently.
“I mean that she came in again, even after the disaster that was our first interaction,” I said, more than a little flustered. “Even after she knew I worked here, and she’d probably be seeing me again, should she choose to return, which she did.”
“Well, the first time she was here, she couldn’t take her eyes off you,” Chuck said. “That’s why I assumed you screwed it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I did screw something up. Came on too strong.”
“She couldn’t take her eyes off you,” Chuck repeated, reiterating his point by clapping after each word. “She was into you until you opened your mouth.”
“I thought you were on my side,” I complained.
“Always,” he said, patting my head in a way that somehow wasn’t patronizing. “I just think you should give this one up, though. If she’d really wanted you, you would’ve known.”
“But she came back.” This was key, in my opinion. She’d come back, even though our second encounter hadn’t gone any better than the first.
“Think she’ll come back again?” Jack asked me.
“I mean, it’s possible.” I blotted at the condensation rings my glass was leaving on the table with a damp napkin. “She came back once. She could come back again. I kind of hope she’ll come back again.”
“Then maybe the third time will be the charm,” he said, his tone hopeful, indicative of an olive branch extended. “Maybe you’ll at least get her name the third time you interact with her.” A snort of laughter, and olive branch retracted.
“She’s just not that into you,” Brody offered again.
Sloan plopped a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. “My money’s on Ace.”
“Literally?” Chuck asked, his eyebrow arched.
“I mean that I bet twenty bucks he’ll get her name next time,” Sloan said.
Brody sucked in air through his teeth. “Assuming there’ll be a next time, of course.”
“That’s what my money’s on.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Brody said, nodding decisively, coming up with an assortment of bills that added up to twenty. “But I’m betting that he won’t see her again.”
“Ouch,” I said. “You’re the one who gave me all that advice, too.”
“Solving your ailment,” he said, nodding.
“For someone who thinks we should all be listening harder to women, it’s kind of hypocritical that you’re even betting, isn’t it?” Chuck asked.
Brody shrugged. “I’m being realistic, here.”
“Okay, I think she’ll come in, but Ace still won’t get her name,” Chuck said, plunking his own bill on the table.
“I thought you were on my side!” I exclaimed, hurt. “Sloan, you’re the only one I like anymore.”
“Ha,” he said, preening.
“I want in on the bet,” Jack said.
“Careful,” I warned him.
“What? You already told Sloan he was your favorite.” Jack smiled dangerously. “That means I can bet how I want.”
“It’s your money,” I said, waving at the cash scattered across the table.
“I’m betting that one or a combination of the rest of your bets will take place,” he said, smug as he let his twenty ride the air currents like an errant leaf falling from a branch.
“That’s not fair,” Sloan said, his mouth dropping open.
“That’s like being on ‘The Price is Right’ and betting one dollar more than your nearest competitor,” Chuck groused.
“Hey, a winner’s a winner,” Jack said.
“Is that my tip money?” Haley had come to deliver a fresh pitcher of beer and squealed with delight at the sight of all the bills in the middle of the table. “You all are perfect, sweet, wonderful angels. Have I ever told you that? Oh my God, this makes my night no, my month!”
We all watched, speechless, as Haley gathered up the bills, practically vibrating with joy, and stuffed them into her apron. She literally skipped back to the bar, singing along to the song playing on the jukebox.
“That was… How much money was that?” Brody asked, dazed.
“Eighty dollars,” I said, laughing at the foolish expressions on everyone’s faces, as if they were slowly waking up from a dream.
“We have to get that money back,” Sloan said, snapping to attention. “That’s our betting money.”
“You can’t just take the money back from her,” Chuck said. “She was so happy.”
“Yeah, eighty dollars’ worth of happy,” Sloan whined.
“Let her have it, Sloan,” I urged. “She actually skipped. Have you ever seen Haley skip before?”
“You just don’t want anyone to bet on your love life,” Brody remarked.
“I mean, can you blame me?” I glanced over at the bar. “You know, Haley has a really nice voice.”
“Please don’t take the betting money away from Haley,” Chuck all but begged. “Look at her.”
We all watched her for a little while as she did a more than passable cover of the song on the jukebox. In my humble opinion, she was doing even better than the original performers of the song, all with dance moves to complement the show.
“We could do like a Coyote Ugly thing, don’t you think?” I asked. “Haley would choreograph, obviously, but we could like get up on the bar and do a dance routine or two every night, nothing too fancy, and we could sing”
“Look, I’m indulging you in this fantasy, but in it, only Haley gets to sing,” Brody said. “Sorry, Ace. We have all, in one setting or another, endured your terrible singing. You’re not singing.”
“Let the man have his fantasy,” Jack said. “In a fantasy, you don’t have to be completely and painfully tone deaf. You can be whatever you want to be.”
“Thanks… I guess…” I sighed. “Please don’t bet on me and the redhead. I’m kind of twisted up about her.”
“You finally drunk enough to confess your true feelings, pal?” Sloan asked almost tenderly.
“Nowhere near,” I said, which was apparently a signal for Haley to plunk another pitcher of beer on the table. Chuck refilled my glass.
“You can tell us anything,” he assured me. “As long as you don’t mind us using it against you at some point in the future.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, taking a long drink of my beer. I was pleasantly buzzed enough so that I’d leave the motorcycle parked overnight and just mosey on down the street to my apartment. It wasn’t terribly far away, and some nights, I preferred the walk to the ride, especially nights when I’d been drinking enough for everything to sort of go fuzzy at the edges. It was nice, having people I trusted, people I liked, around to enjoy life with.
Because there had been a time when I hadn’t had all of this, and that had been a hard time to live in.
“Let’s lay off Ace a little bit,” Jack said, looking at me, his eyebrows drawn together in mild concern. I must’ve had a terrible expression on my face, thinking of those challenging times.
I waved his concerns away, dismissive. “If I could just have one night with her, I’d exorcise all of this. The only regrets I’m having is all the time I’m wasting just trying to make it happen.”
“We all know you’re more than capable of making it happen with practically any woman who passes your way,” Jack said. As if on cue, two girls in matching cowboy hats they had to be on some kind of road trip, or something, because there was no way they lived here passed by and giggled at me.
“God, I’ve had whiplash from tonight,” I said. “You guys build me up and then tear me down.”
“Because we love you,” Jack assured me. “Aren’t you going to call dibs on one of those gorgeous strangers?”
“Not tonight,” I said, shaking my head and taking another pull of my beer.
As the jukebox paused between songs, you could’ve cut the silence with a knife, it fell so thickly over the booth.
“What?” I asked, puzzled. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“I think we’re going to need some shots,” Brody called, waving at Haley.
“What did I say?” I was already tipsy. Shots would be overkill, at this point.
“You’ve got it bad, Ace,” Chuck informed me, as if I didn’t know what was raging inside my own head.
I groaned. “I don’t want to do shots. I’m too old for this shit.”
“We’re going to banish Red from bothering you tonight, you hear?” Sloan asked, glee making him look a little manic. “That’s what good friends do. Help each other forget our sorrows.”
I swore again at the tray of tequila shots Haley brought over, because of course it was tequila. Tequila was no friend of mine, even if the guys were, and had only the best intentions.
“These shots aren’t going to take themselves, boys,” Jack said, his eyes gleaming.
One round of shots always turned into two or three or four. Once the first ounce was thrown back, scorching its way down my throat and settling into a slow, not completely unpleasant simmer in my stomach, the others went down easier, the path already cleared. Beer chased and cushioned and cooled, and, goddammit, it was actually nice to focus on something other than the redhead and the mystery she presented, the borderline fever she ignited in me. Right now, I could just focus on good friends and terrible choices in liquor.
I vaguely remembered twirling around the dance floor with Haley, bellowing along to something on the jukebox to which I only knew a couple of the words of the chorus, then Chuck and Brody laughing on either side of me as I struggled to get my legs to stop wobbling beneath me.
“We got you, Ace,” Chuck assured me, and maybe I really was drunk, because it was damn good to hear that, and I think I babbled something along those lines.
“Let’s go, buddy,” Jack said, opening a car door. “Into the paddy wagon.”
“I was going to walk,” I spluttered, a little indignant.
“Change of plans,” Sloan said, popping his head out the open door and pulling me inside. “It kind of looks like you’ve forgotten how to walk, so we’re improvising.”
“Who’s driving this thing?” I asked as he managed to buckle me in. Everything seemed incredibly complicated.
“Please keep all limbs inside the moving vehicle at all times,” Haley said sweetly from behind the driver’s wheel, elbowing the arm rest out of the way as the rest of the guys piled into the SUV. I was dead in the middle in the backseat. “There will be no expulsion of bodily fluids of any kind inside this vehicle.”
“Why are you looking at me?” I asked, only dimly aware that I was slurring my words. “I’m not going to puke in your car.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said. “Who’s first?”
“Ace lives closest to the bar,” Jack said, turning from the front passenger’s seat to grin at me. “And he’s the one who’s the most fucked up.”
“And he’s also the one sitting in the dead middle of the backseat,” Haley observed. “Poor planning on that one.”
“It’s not poor planning,” Sloan said. “We put him in the middle so he wouldn’t accidentally tumble out one of the doors.”
“I’m not that drunk,” I insisted.
“Hey, no shame,” Brody said, patting my knee affectionately. “We aimed to get you drunk, and we achieved our goal.”
“But I’m really not that drunk. Really.”
“I believed you the first time.” Chuck was in the middle of the front seat, somehow, wedged between Haley and Jack even though he was one of the biggest of the group. “But the second time makes me wonder.”
“The Ace doth protest too much,” Jack agreed. “Let’s get him home, Haley.”
“Here we go,” she agreed.
If it was a ten-minute walk from the bar to my apartment, it was just a couple of minutes to drive. But somehow, I found it in myself to fall asleep for a brief nap, snug and comfortable in the backseat, packed in like sardines. Waking up was almost painful, Brody gone from my side, the door open, and cold night air rushing in and making me shiver.
“We’ve reached your stop, Sleeping Beauty,” Sloan informed me, shoving me toward the open door. “That’s some kind of talent, man, being able to fall asleep wherever and whenever.”
“Superpower, maybe,” Jack said. “You with us, Ace?”
I grumbled at being rousted from comfort.
“Your bed’s just in there,” Brody encouraged. “Come on, Ace. We got you.”
“It’s cold,” I complained, but I managed to find my feet in the gravel parking lot of the apartment complex.
“It’ll be warm inside your apartment,” Brody assured me, giving me a hug. “Have a good night, Ace.”
“Need one of us to tuck you in?” Haley joked, grinning as she rolled down the window.
“Are you offering?” I asked, turning and stumbling a little bit as I raised my eyebrows. I’d never made a serious pass at Haley, mostly because of Chuck, who had never called dibs but was somehow caught between being relentlessly protective of her and insanely oblivious of just how in love with her he actually was. It seemed like everyone except Chuck realized he had some form of deeply felt sentiment for Haley, and we all had steered clear of her romantically because of it.
Chuck leaned over Haley to frown at me out the window. “Move it along inside before I tuck you in.”
“I’m going, Chuck, I’m going. Christ. I wasn’t going to”
“Hope this helped you forget about the redhead,” Sloan shouted, waving at me out the backseat window.
Well. I had forgotten briefly about her, but now she was back in the forefront of my mind.
“Thanks for that,” I said, feeling my face tighten into a grimace. “Good night.”
I felt simultaneously too drunk and not drunk enough, if such a thing was possible, and I dropped my keys twice trying to fit the right one into my door’s keyhole.
For all the alcohol I’d had that night, it was an awful challenge to try and find my way into slumber.
And even when I did sink into sleep, I was haunted by the color red.