Chapter 14
NOLAN
14
It’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m in my office at the bar as raindrops pummel the window. The plan is to catch up on some admin work until it’s time to pick Stella up from school.
I’m still feeling grumpy over where things stand with Inez and me. But now that a few days have passed, I don’t feel quite as prickly as I did on Saturday night.
The local news talk station plays on low, reporting on the deteriorating condition of the local elementary school. Apparently, when it rained over the weekend, the ceiling started leaking which resulted in a major flood in the gymnasium.
Alarmed, my head snaps up. Good god—I send my kid to that place everyday. Is it even safe?
The PTA association is putting pressure on the school board for an immediate solution and the teachers’ union organized a protest that took place at lunchtime today.
What a mess.
“The school board and their higher-ups are trying to cut corners here, thinking they can do whatever they want in our small town,” one parent is saying in the clip now playing on the radio. “But if they don’t do something about it, our kids will suffer and some really good teachers are going to leave Starlight Falls for better jobs in the city.”
Just thinking about this whole mess gives me an instant migraine. It’s yet another ‘something’ to worry about and I’m not sure how much more stress my head can take.
Needing a quick drink of water, I get up and head behind the bar. I’m taken aback to find that all my siblings are here. All of them.
My gaze bounces from Karli and Felix to Archer and Darius to Ronan. What the heck?
“There he is,” Felix says, not looking too happy to see me. “We were just about to come to your office and drag you out here.”
I frown, stalking over to where they’ve shoved two tables together in the middle of the bar. “What’s going on?”
“Impromptu family meeting,” Ronan announces, no nonsense in his tone.“Didn’t you get the text messages?”
“Huh?” I dig my silenced phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. Sure enough, our sibling group chat is overflowing with message notifications.
Alarmed, my eyes dart around the mashed-together tables. I plant my fists on my hips, already pissed at these hell-raisers. “So, which one of you idiots is in trouble this time?”
“You are,” Archer quips dryly.
My neck rears back. “Me?” I stab a finger into the middle of my chest. “What did I do?”
Karli holds up a magazine in my face. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing but a gossip rag. One of those colorful celebrity-filled tabloids they sell at the pharmacy checkout counter. My eyes bounce around, trying to read the cover to figure out what the hell this has to do with me.
And then I see it. And my heart stops.
“Your girl is a celebrity,” Karli says, eyeballing me cautiously. “And from the look on your face in this picture, you’re a lovestruck superfan.”
Pulse racing, I take the tabloid from her, speed-reading the article while my siblings watch me with varying degrees of concern and amusement.
The Bride Who Ran Away From America’s Hottest Bachelor:Who is Inez Machado REALLY?
Part of me feels shitty for even reading past that point. I shouldn’t give these vultures my attention. I shouldn’t disrespect Inez by indulging in this shit.
I read just enough to get the gist of the story. According to the magazine, Inez is the ruthless runaway bride who jilted the most desirable bachelor in America, leaving the poor man miserable and heartbroken. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Then the article digs into Inez’s background. Foster kid. Small town girl. Bartender.There are even some candid shots of Inez working at the bar. Last week.
My blood runs cold when I also spot a photo that was taken at the insect exhibition. Inez is clearly the focus of the picture, but just past her is a blurry glimpse of me holding Stella’s hand in the background.
Fuck.
My vision goes red. I look back at the top of the page and read the byline. There’s a tiny photo next to the so-called writer’s name. It’s the same asshole stalker guy who was following us around at the exhibit, pretending to take bug photos.
I knew it! I knew something was up with that bastard!
I slam the garbage magazine down on the table and I find myself even more frustrated than I was five minutes ago. “This day just keeps getting better and better,” I mutter.
This is the last shit I need. Getting caught up in some tabloid mess. Me? I have a young child to protect after all. Every decision I make impacts Stella.
“So what’s the plan here?” Darius asks, clearly in problem-solving mode.
The plan?! I can’t get involved…Even if the nice guy did manage to get the girl, I just…can’t.
Ronan seems to read my mind. “Wake up! This is your second chance with her,” he’s saying as he roughly shakes my shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up. Don’t self-sabotage like that, bro.”
I roll my eyes at my obnoxious twin. “Don’t you feel all smart with your internet psychology?”
“I won’t tolerate any slander about internet psychology. TikTok healed all of my childhood trauma,” Ronan jokes.
I scoff. “What childhood trauma? Our parents were fucking awesome.”
“The trauma of having to share a womb with your big head and your knobby elbows.”
I don’t dignify him with a response. I just bring my mind back to the dilemma at hand. The trashy gossip rag at hand.
I’m not getting sucked into this shit. At least that’s what I tell my nosy, opinionated siblings.
“Inez is not my girl,” I tell Karli. “Inez is my employee. A friend, maybe. But that’s it.” Then my eyes fan across the table. “And this?” I spit out, pointing at the tabloid. “This is nothing. Don’t make it into something it’s not. Family meeting adjourned.”
On that note, I stomp off toward my office and lock myself inside. I do my best to focus on getting through a routine admin day. I try to go about, robotically checking things off the to-do list. But I spend the next few days stuck in a funk that makes everything that much harder.
I’m worried that some tabloid freak is following Inez around. All day, every day, I’m fantasizing about punching him in the throat and tossing him out of this town.
My vigilante fantasy is just a daydream, though. I can’t allow myself to complicate life for Stella and me. Sheesh.
This mood I’m in is suffocating. During Thursday night’s awkward shift at the bar with Inez, I need a breather from all the reckless thoughts running around in my head. At the first opportunity—a slow down after the dinner crowd—I head out to the alley behind the bar for some fresh air.
The moment I open the back door and step outside, I see a couple of figures talking under the dim overhead light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust.
Is that…? I squint, stepping closer.Are you kidding me?
It’s that same reporter from the gossip article. The fake bug photographer. The stalker guy. And he’s just standing there, puffing on a cigarette, casually chatting it up with my cook, who’s out on his nightly smoke break.
No fucking way.
I don’t think. I just act. “Get out of here!” I shout, stalking forward toward the nosy asshole. Startled eyes swing toward me. “Go! Get the fuck out of here!” I bark like a rabid dog. Like a maniac.
I grab a brick off the ground. I chase the goddamn reporter away, running all the way down the darkened alley, not taking my eyes off of him until he climbs into the driver’s side of a compact hybrid.
“Yeah! And don’t you ever come back here again, you lowlife.” My voice echoes in the night as he screeches away from the curb.
When I stomp back up the alley a moment later, Joe is still standing by the backdoor, eyeballing me warily. “What the hell was that? What’s going on here?”
“That guy is a no-good tabloid reporter trying to get gossip about Inez,” I say, out of breath, adrenaline pumping.
My cook flinches visibly. He tosses his cigarette down on the ground and grinds it with his toe. “Shit—I didn’t know. Really. I wouldn’t have talked to him if I had known.” He pulls on the greasy strands of his salt and pepper hair. “He just came over and asked for a cigarette and then he started making small talk. I didn’t tell him anything about Inez.”
I press my lips together, pinching the bridge of my nose. This long night just keeps on getting longer. “It’s okay, I believe you,” I tell Joe. “Come on. Let’s get back to work.”
For a moment, I stand off to the side of the room and allow my eyes to sweep over the crowd. I make note of any unfamiliar faces. I keep an eye out for anyone who might be acting strange or keeping tabs on Inez. Any fucker who thinks they’ll come in here and start stalking her in my tavern has another thing coming to him.
God—what was I thinking, going after the reporter guy like that?
But when I glance behind the bar and see Inez merrily chatting and pouring drinks for her patrons, my head is racing even faster.
I told myself that I wouldn’t get involved in this mess. But this tabloid thing changes everything. Because who does Inez have in her corner? Nobody.
Leaving her to fend for herself isn’t an option. I’ll do what it takes to protect her.