12. Ivy
TWELVE
Ivy
I’m out of work early, and as I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, I start messing with my hair for like the twelfth time.
Sam texted earlier that she wanted to grab drinks, and to my surprise, Xaden said he didn’t need me after Daisy’s nap.
I am so ready for a night out, not worrying over my father or trying to keep myself from staring too long at Xaden. Drinks with a girlfriend are exactly what I need.
If only I could finally decide on what I want to wear and get out of here.
Sighing to myself, I gather my hair on the side of my neck and do a quick, fluffy braid. It does the trick of making me feel a bit more put together and suits the chunky knit sweater I’m wearing.
I’ve paired the sweater with a thin white top—scoop-necked with long sleeves so I don’t get too cold—and a pair of black skinny jeans.
As I walk to the front of the house, I yank on my ankle boots, also black, and grab my keys from the catch-all on the console table. The place is starting to feel a bit more like home, and when I get paid again, I’m finally investing in a steam-powered wallpaper remover.
I’m sick of trying the old-fashioned way.
“Okay, Ivy. Off you go,” I say to myself, still a little unbelieving that I actually have a local friend to go out with.
But maybe Red Lodge is just what I need. You know, like I kept telling myself it was.
The Horseshoe is booming with energy as I sit at the bar with Sam. It’s a quaint little local pub, and there’s a live band playing honest-to-goodness folk music—the kind that’s dark and moody and wonderful.
I can see why she likes the place.
“Here you are, ladies,” the bartender cuts in, delivering our drinks.
I smile and offer a tip, to which the guy nods gently, and then I turn back to Sam.
“So what did you get again?”
Looking down at my drink and then back up to her, I grin, rolling my eyes at my ridiculous drink order.
“I know. I should have just gone basic, but I wanted something fancy for a change. It’s called a Last Resort.”
Sam giggles, eyeing the peculiar-looking cocktail as I take a sip. “Ha, nice name. It looks like some potion out of a movie. I’m into it.”
I laugh, offering her the glass to try it. “Have some. It’s good if you like herbal.”
She takes the delicate coupe glass and has a drink. Immediately, her eyes light up, and the corners of her mouth turn down in surprised enjoyment.
“Ooh, that is good! What’s in it?”
“Gin, green chartreuse, a bit of maraschino liquor, and lime. I think also a bit of water, technically. Plus, you get these.”
I take one of the deep maroon maraschino cherries off the garnish and pop it in my mouth. They taste so much better than the neon red variety.
With another laugh, Sam nods and then goes back to her Old Fashioned. “Well, I’m definitely trying it if I’m not too buzzed after this bad boy.”
Quickly, the conversation starts up between us, and in no time flat, it’s like talking to a lifelong friend. We chat about movies and TV, agreeing on so many canceled shows that should have stuck around.
“I know! Firefly was great. Too bad about the director, but for sure. And you know I was really into that Warrior Nun show, and Netflix canceled it like right away.”
Sam pats my arm, finishing up her second drink, a Last Resort this time. “Ugh, so true! At least we still have Wednesday to enjoy. And man, I could binge Bridgerton like any day.”
Smiling, I feel warm and relaxed like I haven’t in a while. The night with Sam, chatting about books and music and TV has been incredible, and we even got onto much more serious topics like education and the downsides to being a woman.
I feel so at home with Sam, and it’s so good to know that I’ve made a genuine friend and not just someone to fight the boredom with.
“Oof, well, I need to pee again. I broke the seal.” I giggle as Sam rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Want another one?”
She holds up her empty drink, and I consider how I’m feeling.
“Umm, okay. But this should probably be my last one. I’m definitely feeling it.”
Laughing, Sam nods. “Lightweight.”
“I hang out around kids all the time. Not like I really have the wherewithal to build up a tolerance.”
Shrugging, she leans over the bar to get the guy’s attention again. “Fair enough. Go on before you pee yourself."
“Hey!” I laugh, but she’s right. I’m bursting, so I rush back toward the restroom in the rear of the bar.
Slipping inside, I find the first open stall and get moving. It’s quite possibly the longest pee of my life, and I hear one person leave and another enter the stall next to me before I’m done.
When I’m finally finished, I step out of the stall at the same moment the person next to me does, and when we glance at each other my mouth falls open in surprise.
“Oh,” I force a smile, “hi, Amy. Funny running into you here.”
Her eyes go from ultra-wide to narrowed on me and she just raises her eyebrows in a quick pump and heads to the sink.
I follow that direction because, hey, I have to wash my hands, too, and Amy isn’t so subtle about the glares she sending my way.
“This place is really nice. It’s cool that you have such a unique pub here. Is it new?”
Amy doesn’t answer, just buttons her lips together in a tight line and scrubs down her hands like she’s a surgeon.
Okay, then. Fine.
I don’t bother to try and instigate conversation again. Instead, I resolutely stare down at my hands, making sure they’re good and clean before stepping to the side for the paper towels.
As I dry off, I can feel Amy’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face, and then she shoves her way past me—albeit not overly hard or anything—and snags towels of her own.
She doesn’t waste time drying off very much, and then Amy leaves without so much as a single syllable uttered.
The door swings open and closed as she leaves, and I huff out a breath. “What the fuck is her problem?”
Still, I’m not going to let it ruin my night, so I check my makeup, give myself a smile, and then head back out to rejoin Sam at the bar.
I sit down, moving my purse off my chair and onto the bartop again, and I notice that there are a few missed texts from that same number.
Dad’s harassing me again, but just like Amy, I’m determined to let myself have a good time tonight.
It’s fine. Don’t let him ruin this. You deserve some happiness, Ivy.
Tucking the phone back into my purse, I refocus on Sam, and we’re right back to chatting up a storm in no time.
Another hour and a half goes by with us nursing our drinks, when we finally need a refill if we’re going to stay out.
“Do you want me to get another round? I know it’s getting late, but I thought?—”
“Oh, hell yes, I do. I’m having way too much fun. We can be tired, right? That’s what caffeine is for.”
Grinning from ear to damn ear, I feel that much more grateful for Sam and lean up onto the bar to get the bartender’s attention.
Of course, the guy is thoroughly distracted by the tits at the far end of the bar, and I roll my eyes. If you want something done for you, I guess you need to be more direct .
When I look back at Sam, she rolls her eyes. “Seriously? He’s just going to forget about the people who aren’t falling out of their top? Okay, okay. Not her fault, she’s just trying to work the system, but I don’t have tits that nice.”
I offer a smile, patting Sam on the shoulder. “I’ll go down there and just ask politely. He can’t ignore me when I’m in his face, right?”
She shrugs as we both laugh, but I still walk over there to get the guy’s attention. Sure enough, he has a much easier time seeing me when I step up to the bar right next to the woman he was chatting up.
“Two Last Resorts, please.”
He frowns a little. “Right, sure. Coming up.”
The bartender turns around, leaving to go mix up the drinks, and the woman next to me actually leans over with an exhausted look on her face.
“Jesus, thank you. I didn’t want to just tell the guy I was done with that conversation.”
I can’t help but laugh, and when I look closer at her, I realize that as much as she’s working it tonight with her tight dress, she isn’t actually throwing around her sexuality.
“Oh, no. My friend and I thought you were flirting with him.”
She shakes her head vehemently, her eyes wide. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m gay. I just wanted a drink.”
Surprise hits, and then I feel a little bad for the judgment. “I’m so sorry. Well, you better make a break for it before you’re wrapped into a conversation again.”
The woman grins, nodding. “Fuck yes. I can’t hear him talk about football anymore.”
As she leaves, I chuckle a little to myself. I definitely misjudged her, and it’s actually kind of nice to be proven wrong.
Life can feel like a cliché a lot, and it’s times like this I remind myself that everyone is their own unique person. I shouldn’t judge.
Ugh, which does include Amy.
Sighing, I turn back to the bar, and after a few seconds, a man sidles up to the spot where the other woman was standing.
“You in line?”
I glance over, trying to remember that I was just wrong about someone, so I need to remember to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.
“Oh, no. He’s making mine already. You’re good.”
The man eyes me, nodding. There’s a trickle of discomfort that runs down my spine as I notice his stare trace the edge of my top.
Swallowing, I lean onto my back foot, putting a bit more space between us.
“Oh, nice. What’d you get?”
“Umm, a Last Resort. Do you know it?”
Come on, Ivy. You’re just nervous. I’m sure it’s okay.
“Nah, I’m more of a beer guy myself. Say,” he takes a step closer, leaning on the bar in a way that makes me feel blocked in, “you here with someone? I’d love to buy your next drink.”
I grin, shaking my head as my pulse flutters in my neck. “Oh, that’s sweet, but no, thank you. I’m here with a friend.”
“She’s more than welcome to come too. I have two hands, after all.”
My stomach flips, and I look to the bartender who’s just starting on Sam’s drink. Dammit, why did we have to order such complicated cocktails?
I shake my head again, unsure what to say. “Umm, no, thank you.”
There’s something about the words he just used that makes my nerves shudder, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“Aww, come on. It’ll be fun.” He sinks closer, and I feel trapped with another large man behind me facing the other direction.
I don’t feel safe. This does not feel safe.
Why can’t men take no for an answer? I’m not a piece of meat or some conquest.
Before I can speak again, he’s moving up to me, and his hand finds my waist, pulling me closer.
“Come on, sweetness. You’ll like it.”
The words are too familiar. I can hear them said by dozens of different men over the years of my youth.
I never liked it. I never wanted it, and suddenly, I can’t breathe, my chest tight, my heart rate skyrocketing.
No, no, no. Please, no.
Worse, I’m frozen by the proximity of it all. I’m rooted to the spot, my father’s words ringing behind the unnumbered others who spoke in soft tones with pretty words that hid the razor blades of their actions.
“I…”
My throat closes as the guy yanks me just a bit closer, and I can smell the beer on him.
Oh, God. This can’t be happening—not again.