12. Quinn
12
quinn
Something’s off.
I know I’ve only worked here a few days, and tonight is technically my first solo bartending shift, but as soon as I walk into the bar, I can tell the vibes are off.
There’s music playing, but normally you have to strain to hear it over patrons talking. But I can hear every word of the classic rock song that I’ve heard more this week than I have in my entire life. And it’s not because the bar is empty. Far from it. The crowd is decent for a Saturday early evening. But everyone is talking in low whispers, looking around like someone might hear what they’re saying. It’s like top secret information is being passed around.
What’s even stranger is that Porter is nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Jenny says, looking exhausted and it’s only six o’clock.
“Are you okay? Where’s Porter?”
Jenny tilts her head back toward his office as she pours a Beam and Coke. “He’s been back there for a few hours now. Asked me if I could watch the bar for a bit, which was fine because we didn’t have many customers. But he hasn’t come back and I’ve been too busy to check on him.”
Shit. That doesn’t sound like Porter at all.
“Do you want me to see if he’s okay? Help you? Tell me what you need.”
“Can you please make these drinks for me so I can go to the bathroom? I’m dying.”
I wave her off. “Go. Leave me your order.”
She drops her notebook and sprints to the back, leaving me to make the drinks. They aren’t anything hard—just two gin and tonics. I also notice she needs some food rung in, so I do the nice thing and send it back to the kitchen when I hear a “psst” from the end of the bar.
When I look over, Harry and George are leaning down, signaling me to come over to them.
“Why are y’all whispering, you weirdos?”
Seriously. What the fuck is going on in here today?
“Did you hear?”
I want to chuckle, because there are a few things this town could be known for. One is Mona’s Diner. Best fucking pancakes and french toast in the world. And the second would be this town’s gossip mill. It’s unparalleled and could put any national tabloid to shame. Who needs the National Enquirer when you have George and Harry, the mean old men who sit at the diner each morning, and the Bingo ladies on the case?
In my week working at The Joint, I’ve been more than caught up on the town news. There are the few rumors about some marriages that might be on the rocks—of course solely based on people’s Facebook profile pictures. Whether or not the empty lot on the outskirts of town is going to become another dollar store. My favorite, though, has been Harry learning what Only Fans is because a girl who graduated with Stella is apparently now making a killing on it.
That was hilarious.
“Did I hear what? Is it why everyone in here looks like they’re playing a bad game of telephone?”
“Yes.” Harry signals me to come closer. “When we walked in today, Porter was here. Alone. With a woman.”
I take a step back from the bar as my heart drops into my stomach. I think my face is turning white. Am I about to pass out?
Wait. Stop. No. Wrong reaction to have. If he was here with a woman, that’s his prerogative. We’re nothing. Especially now. And even before, he could see whoever he wanted.
I quickly fix my face to make sure that I don’t have a visible reaction. Not that these two would’ve picked up on it. I’ve seen the size of their bifocals. “Do we know who she is? An ex?”
George shakes his head, his white hair sticking out of his trucker hat. “Not an ex. His sister. Well, half. Daughter that his mama had after she ran off and left Porter and Frank.”
“Sister?” I say as I let out a big breath. Couldn’t these two have led with that? “I didn’t know he had a sister.”
“She’s never been here,” George continues. “When we walked in here today, boy looked like a deer in headlights.”
I look back into the office, the sudden urge to run back and check on him is overwhelming.
“You’re the best,” Jenny says as she ties her apron back around her waist and interrupts my gossip session. “I’m good now.”
“No problem,” I stutter. “I think I’m going to go back and check on Porter.”
“You do that. Just don’t you disappear on me, too.”
I quickly weave out from behind the bar, through the tables, and down the hallway to Porter’s office. I gently knock, but no one answers.
“Porter?” I ask as I try the knob, but it’s locked. “Porter? You in there?”
I stand there for a second, but I don’t hear anything. I start to grab a bobby pin from my hair, wondering if I still remember how to pick a lock from the time I broke into the teacher’s lounge. Which I wouldn’t have had to do if they would’ve just put a microwave in the cafeteria.
“Quinn!” Just as I’m about to insert it, I hear Jenny calling for me. “Need ya. Bikers just came in off a ride.”
“Be right there,” I say, looking to the door for a second before I move.
“You should’ve called me,” I whisper, giving one more look to the door before hustling back to the bar.
* * *
Eight hours, three birthday shots, and one minor bar fight later, The Joint is finally closed up for this Saturday night.
“Holy shit,” I sigh as I collapse on a bar stool, Jenny across from me pouring herself a Diet Coke from the soda gun. “Should I be this tired?”
She laughs. “You’ll get used to it. You did good tonight, kid.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks to you for defusing that fight. I couldn’t get over there in time.”
Jenny waves me off as she chugs her drink. “That was nothing. Those two know they can’t drink bourbon. Makes ’em mean.”
I laugh and force myself to stand up, because if I sit any longer, I might pass out. “Hey, did you ever have a chance to talk to Porter?”
She shakes her head. “Never had the chance. I figured he’d pop back in after close and I’d make sure everything was okay.”
I look back down the hallway where Porter would normally be at this time of night, counting money and going through receipts, when I see a sliver of light creeping through the bottom of the office doorway. Except I know a few hours ago when I went back to grab vodka out of the closet that no lights were on. I checked.
“Ready to go?” Jenny asks as I see headlights pulling up to the front door. “Like clockwork, my ride awaits.”
I look back to Jenny, then back down the hallway. “You go ahead. I have to go drop the money back in the safe.”
Jenny looks past me and down the hallway before raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”
I nod, not really knowing what else to say. We both know that I’m staying to talk to Porter. I don’t think Jenny knows our history, but if anyone in this town did, it would definitely be her. The woman has waitressed at the town bar for more than twenty years. She could write a best seller with the things she’s heard and the secrets she knows.
Oh! Jenny needs a reality show. I’d watch the shit out of that.
“Be careful, Quinn.”
Now that surprises me. “Of what?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she explains, but adds in a nod down the hallway. “He doesn’t talk about his mama a lot. And if that girl is his sister like people are saying, that’s going to bring up some wounds that he let scar over a long time ago.”
“Good to know. Thanks.”
I follow Jenny to her car, giving her a wave as I shut and lock the door. I then make sure to grab the moneybag before heading to the office. I need to put it in the safe anyway, so at least it gives me a reasonable cover story.
In all the years Porter and I have been…well, Porter and I…I don’t think he’s ever talked about his mom. Not even the night of his dad’s funeral.
I knew she wasn’t around. Everyone in town did. But I never asked about her. Fuck buddies don’t ask questions about personal lives or childhood traumas. That’s too…relationshippy. Too personal. Too real.
And yes, Porter and I might’ve been real in what we were doing, but that’s the only sense. And that’s how we both wanted it.
But now things are different. We’re…friends. Yeah, friends. Plus, he’s my boss. Employees can check on their bosses to make sure they’re okay, right? If they can’t, I know friends can.
Now whether he wants me to? That’s a different question.
The closer I get to the office, the more I see the light beaming from under the crack. I gently knock, not wanting to scare him, but part of me has to think he knows at some point I’m going to come back here.
“Just leave the money on the bar, Quinn. I’ll get it later.”
I shake my head and push open the unlocked door. “Sorry. Can’t do. I’m very responsible with money, and for all I know Harry and George are going to come in and swipe it.”
My joke falls flat as Porter just stares at his computer screen. I take another step in to get a better look at him, and my heart breaks seeing the blank stare on his face in contradiction with a million emotions dashing through his brown eyes.
“Want to talk about it?”
I walk around his desk, propping myself on the corner of it. I take a look to see what he’s staring at, only to find that it’s a picture of a much younger Porter—I can tell this was high school because I remember that Rolling Hills football T-shirt—surrounded by a family I’ve never seen.
“This was the last time I visited,” he says, his tone somber. “I was going into my junior year. I was pissed because I had to miss the first week of football practices. I was angry that whole trip.”
I don’t say anything, because what do you say? He’s clearly going through it right now, so I’m going to do something I rarely do—just shut up.
“I only went on those summer trips because Pops made me. Said it was the right thing to do. That she might’ve left, but she was still my mom. I told him she never paid attention to me while I was there. That I sat in the guest bedroom the whole time and played on the computer. He said it was still better that I was showing effort. And that it was her decision not to show any.”
“Wise words.” I nod to the computer screen. “Was this the last time you saw her?”
He shakes his head. “I visited one more summer. But she never came to graduation. And at that point I was eighteen. Both my dad and the state of Tennessee said I was free of visiting obligations.”
I have no words, because the idea of not seeing either of my parents for years at a time—or ever—unfathomable to me. Even living away, I made sure to get home at least twice a year and my parents visited plenty of times. “You couldn’t have imagined what would happen. Not with your dad’s passing. Not realizing that you stopping to visit meant never seeing her again. Not with…”
I was about to say “not with your half-sister showing up out of nowhere,” but I’m guessing I’m not supposed to know that.
“If you meant to finish that sentence with ‘seeing my sister for the first time since she was in a diaper on a random Saturday,’ you win.”
Holy shit. For once George and Harry had their stories right. “Yeah…something like that.”
Porter leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands across a face that is clearly well past the five o’clock shadow window.
“She just showed up out of nowhere.”
“Did she say why?”
He shakes his head. “Said she was visiting Nashville and said wanted to come down and see me, but something felt even off about that. We talked a little before she ran out of here.”
That’s random. Nashville’s only about a forty-minute drive—hour if the highway is backed up—but it seems weird to come all that way for a quick visit.
The confusion I’m feeling is nothing compared to what I’m seeing in Porter’s eyes. The man looks haunted. Lost. Just staring at the computer like he’s trying to find the answer in this twenty-year-old picture.
“You know you can let it out, right? Say what you need to get off your chest. I know it’s been a minute, but if you do remember, I’m a pretty good listener.”
He shrugs, and suddenly I’m transported back to that first night. Granted, that talk was out back. But the emotion is right on par.
“She has my mom’s eyes.”
Now things are making a little more sense. Jenny was right. Seeing his sister today opened up a whole big-ass can of worms. “I’m guessing you thought you were never going to see those eyes again?”
Porter sits back up. “Not in a million fucking years.”
He recounts the events of the day. As he’s talking, I’m listening, but I can’t stop staring at the emotions tugging at his features. His eyes are a mixture of confusion and anger, but there’s a sadness to the rest of his face. He looks defeated.
I hate seeing him like this. Porter is a good man. Has made a life for himself and kept his dad’s legacy alive in this bar. He sponsors Little League teams and donates to town festivals.
And in the blink of an eye, a blast from the past knocks him off kilter.
“Damn,” I say when he finishes. “No wonder your head is spinning. I still wonder what she wanted, because you’re right—something is off.”
“Right? It’s just…I feel like she was about to tell me something before she got spooked and ran off. I don’t have her number, and God knows I’m not at the point yet to call my mom to ask her for it. I just can’t get out of my head that she was here for a bigger reason.”
“Did she ask for money?”
“No, but that would’ve at least made sense,” he says. “I would’ve given her some. She’s my sister, no matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen her. But I feel like she wouldn’t have sprinted away if it was just about borrowing a few bucks.”
“Think she was casing the place? Or is that my too many hours of Law & Order catching up to me?”
My second attempt at a joke falls flat. I’m really off my game tonight.
“What could she have wanted, Quinn? I think not knowing is worse than anything she could’ve asked me for.”
Porter gets up and starts pacing back and forth in his small office. “I hate that this is going to keep me up, but I can’t stop thinking about the worst. That she’s in trouble or something. Or maybe you’re right. Maybe she was going to rob me tonight. She was looking around the bar. Maybe it was for security cameras.”
“No, don’t let my warped mind take over.” Porter walks past me, and without thinking, I take his hand as he’s mid step, stopping him in front of me. “You’re a good guy, Porter McCoy. Don’t think the worst.”
He laughs, and apparently Porter’s body is also separate from his brain because he takes my other hand in his. “Don’t let it get out. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“I’m serious,” I say as I look up into his eyes. “You’re worried because you care, even if you don’t know her. It’s okay to be confused. If she really needs your help, she’ll be back. And if she doesn’t, well, then this is just a very weird day in your life. But don’t put any blame or worry on your shoulders. That’s not your responsibility.”
He nods and neither of us say anything else. The only thing making a sound in the office is the humming of his computer and the air conditioning roaring to life. The cool air isn’t helping, though. Being this close to Porter has me getting warmer by the second.
That and the way he’s looking at me.
Caring eyes. A little hurt in them. A lot of confusion.
A whole lot of want.
I know that look. It’s how he looked at me eight years ago.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
Holy shit, the deja vu is strong. Back then I didn’t know what he was going to say next. Never in a million years did I even begin to dream he’d ask me back to his house.
Only now I know him. I know his looks. His touches.
And I know exactly what’s about to happen.