Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
W hew. Although Scarlett had been working weekends since starting at Tequilaville, the place was busier than ever. Al had warned her that summers were packed, but he’d failed to mention that when they had two bands playing instead of one, it would get crazier. Even karaoke drew in a huge crowd, but tonight had been off the charts.
At least Al had helped at the bar when they had no chance of catching up—and fortunately she’d gotten quicker at much of her job—pouring beer and shots, making routine drinks like a Rum and Coke or a margarita. It didn’t hurt that she’d picked up an old bartender’s guide at the used bookstore down the street and she’d studied it like crazy. Although it didn’t have newer drinks, it had directions for hundreds of other popular, well-known mixed drinks. But with such a large crowd, she’d had many first-time concoctions to create, many of which she knew she’d forget by the time the next request rolled around. Fortunately, there was a cheat sheet that even Denise, the woman she worked with the most, had to use from time to time.
Denise had figured out pretty quickly that Scarlett had exaggerated her experience on her application—even though she hadn’t seen the actual document, Al had mentioned her “credentials” upon their official introduction. And when Denise said something to her about it, Scarlett admitted as much—and was ready to beg for mercy, but there had been no need. Denise had said Scarlett had the right attitude and seemed to catch on fast enough, so the secret was safe with her.
For that, Denise had Scarlett’s respect and admiration.
The woman then told her that the bartender who’d lost his job just days earlier had been stealing from the till and was finally caught on camera. That was when Scarlett found out her every move was being recorded.
Not that she had anything to hide…other than not knowing how to do this job.
And everything else about herself.
Fortunately, she’d learned that, after midnight, even if there were still quite a few people, the demand for alcohol slowed down and gave her a chance to breathe—and think. Al had already left after the bands had finished playing and Denise was cleaning the bathrooms. Usually, it was Scarlett’s job, but when Denise found out she was only working for tips, she said Scarlett needed to stay at the bar.
Even though Scarlett wouldn’t have minded the break.
Although tending bar had been harder than she’d expected, the tips were nothing to sneeze at. They would help her stay afloat until she could get her head on straight and figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
She’d been cleaning their workstations when she saw someone tall approach the bar. Ah…the guitarist from before. While she’d never say it out loud, she could admit to herself that the guy was good looking. Tall and solid, a cool tribal-inspired tattoo on his right forearm. Dark brown mussy hair that hung over his beautiful blue eyes.
Whoa. Scarlett pumped the brakes. The very last thing she needed was to get involved with a guy in any way, shape, or form. Even one this hot.
Unfortunately, there were plenty of empty stools now and he could have his choice of seat. Well…flirting a little, if it happened, wasn’t the same as hooking up. Not by a long shot.
When his blue eyes smiled at her, she said without emotion, “I thought you left.”
“One of my bandmates bought us a couple of rounds, so I sat on my ass for a while. But don’t think I forgot your promise from before.”
What the hell had she said? “ What promise?”
“To give me your number.”
“I don’t think I said that.”
“Right,” Kyle said, sitting on a stool. The lights from the bar gently shone around his face, giving his cheeks and lips an innocent, boyish quality—but Scarlett was pretty sure he hadn’t been unworldly in a long time, despite his age. She estimated him to be in his mid-twenties, maybe a year or two older than she was. His lips were still slightly upturned when he said, “I believe the word you used was negotiate .”
“I did, huh? You must have caught me in a moment of weakness. I don’t give anyone my number when I first meet them…even semi-celebrities.”
Kyle breathed an almost imperceptible laugh. “Don’t be stroking my ego.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I almost said faux celebrity.”
This time, Kyle all but guffawed. “Faux? I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“I didn’t actually say it.” Scarlett was finding their banter fun, but she wasn’t getting anything done—and she definitely wasn’t earning any tips. “Can I get you anything?”
“I think I’ve had enough beer. Could I get a Coke or something?”
“Yeah.” A soft drink wouldn’t generate a tip, but at least maybe she could get back to work and stop this distracting flirting…or whatever it was. While it was amusing, she also knew it was futile—and not too smart.
When she placed it on the counter in front of him, he picked it up and sipped. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. We don’t charge for soda.”
That didn’t deter him from placing two dollar bills on the counter. “You still had to do the work.”
“You don’t have to tip me.”
“I want to.” With a slight frown, she nodded and picked up the bills. He wasn’t wrong—she’d still had to provide the service, and that was what tips were all about. But then he added, “Besides, it helps with negotiations.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Good luck with that.”
“So what’s your name?”
Just as she’d been doing over the past several weeks, she gave it conscious thought. She still wasn’t in a place where her new moniker came out of her mouth naturally as if she’d been born with it. “Scarlett.”
“Kyle.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Kyle grinned, cocking his head to the side a little. “How? Is that part of the semi-celebrity thing?”
She was still laughing, surprised at herself, because she hadn’t had this much fun in a long time—and they were just talking. “Kind of. Your lead singer introduced all of you when you were onstage.”
“Oh, yeah.” After taking a sip of Coke, he pondered the brown liquid for a moment before asking another question. “Can you name any of the other band members? Like, if they came up here right now, could you do it?”
Oh. Scarlett hadn’t realized until he called it that she’d been bluffing. She wasn’t any better at remembering names than the next guy, but his name had stuck…because two women she’d waited on earlier had been talking about him not long before he showed up wanting a drink.
Fortunately, she could remember one other name. “Wolf.”
“Nice. Anyone else?”
Nope. She was at a loss. Although she loved the lead singer’s voice and the band as a whole, she hadn’t been able to pay enough attention to the show to commit that information to memory. Besides, they had bands here all the time and most of them had only shown up once the entire time she’d been here. The one band she really knew was the headlining band of the night, Impending Cataclysm. But she didn’t even know their names either. “No.”
“Maybe you have a thing for guitarists.”
“Yeah. That’s what it is.”
“Oh, sarcasm. I’m fluent in that language.”
Scarlett started wiping down the counter beside him. “It’s my native tongue.”
When a couple a few seats down left, she picked up their glasses and wiped the bar at that spot as well. Then she started washing the glasses beside the sink under the counter, ready to finish up for the night. She hadn’t expected Kyle to resume their conversation. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to take it wrong?”
Looking up at him, she said, “Introducing it that way is a pretty sure bet that I will.”
He kept talking as if he hadn’t heard her. “You look like an elf.”
Oh, God. She hadn’t heard that in a very long time—but at least Kyle didn’t seem to be teasing her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
But he didn’t seem to be willing to say much more. She’d heard it all the time in middle school, but when she got a pixie haircut in the eighth grade, all it took was one person to point it out and it had stuck until the end of the year. “Okay—but you didn’t have a teacher in middle school calling you Tinker Bell all the time.”
“Tinker Bell. That’s cute. It fits you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, standing. “All you gotta do is pull your hair up and put on a tiny dress. You could totally pull it off.”
She rolled her eyes, because it was hard to be mad at him. It was obvious he was only teasing. She’d worked with plenty of jackasses in the past but Kyle’s ribbing seemed to be good-natured. “Why would I want to? Do you think it would get me more tips?”
“Hell, yeah. I’d tip Tinker Bell way better. She might sprinkle me with that pixie dust or whatever the hell it’s called.”
All Scarlett could do was shake her head. Ever since she’d grown her hair out at the tender age of thirteen from that disastrous pixie cut, she’d vowed to never give someone another chance to call her by that fictional character’s name—and here she had all but invited it. With renewed vigor, she began washing the glasses.
Kyle said, “I think that’s going to stick. It’s a good name for you. Seems to fit you much better than Scarlett .”
If only he knew.
It was time to send him on his way. The last thing she wanted was for that stupid nickname to stick—and it was also time to call him on his bluff. “You’re striking out. Have you ever done this before?”
Kyle chuckled. “Done what ? Talked to a woman?”
“No. Tried to get her number.”
“Why? Is it working?”
The way he asked it—so earnestly, so innocently—tugged at her heartstrings just a little bit. Enough that she gave him a tiny smile. “Not a bit. But I’ll tell you what. Next time you’re here, I’ll buy you a beer and let you try again.”
She couldn’t read his expression and those cobalt eyes weren’t giving anything away. Finally, he said, “Okay. I’ll take it. But how about I give you my number? Just in case you change your mind?”
One thing Scarlett had to give him credit for—his persistence. But it wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t had a good feeling about him. With a slight smirk, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and Kyle’s eyes lit up. “I don’t have all night.”
“Kyle Horton…”