Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
FLETCHER
The bar is pretty dead when I show up Friday afternoon. Anna waves from where she’s polishing the beer glasses as I punch in and grab an apron to tie around my waist.
“How’s the camp going?” she asks.
“It’s great. We got a good group of kids this round. And the parents seem less likely to have a heart attack now that we’ve gotten through the first week.”
She snorts. “I don’t know how you do it with them all sitting there watching you like that. Sounds fucking terrifying.”
I smirk and wipe down the bar top. It can feel a bit like performing, but I guess I’ve gotten used to it by now.
“How are the summer classes?”
She shrugs. “The credits will be nice. Hoping it’ll let me wrap things up a semester early. So ,” she adds, her voice an entirely different tone now. One that tells me I’m not going to like whatever she says next. “How are things with that blonde from the other week?”
I cut my eyes to her as a group of three women walks through the door. With how slow business has been lately, it’s become rare for us both to be on shift, and we haven’t worked together since that night. I’m surprised management wanted both of us here today. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She smirks and lifts her eyebrows but turns her attention to the glass in her hands. “So I didn’t see you leave with her?”
“Anna,” I warn.
She narrows her eyes and turns to me. Shit, I shouldn’t have reacted at all. Now I’ve caught her interest. At least if she’s referring to Christine as that blonde , it sounds like she doesn’t know who she is.
Not that I’d mind if she did, but I know Christine would.
I jerk my head to the side as the women slide onto seats at the end of the bar and head that way.
The one in the middle, a brunette with fancy sunglasses on top of her head and giant diamonds in her ears, layers her hands on the bar. From a cursory glance, I can tell the others are just as decked out. What the hell are they doing here?
“What can I get you?”
“We will take three of your delicious bottomless mimosas,” she says.
I feel a single eyebrow creep up my face of its own accord. I don’t know if anyone has ever described something here as delicious. We also have certainly never had bottomless mimosas. I say as much.
The woman’s jaw drops open in theatrical shock. “Since when?”
I glance at Anna out of the corner of my eye. “At least in the two years I’ve been working here.”
“Well, last time we were here, the other bartender did it for us,” pipes up the blonde on her left.
“Who?” I point at Anna down the bar. “Her?”
The blonde shakes her head and waves a hand. “A different one.”
I give her a thin smile. “Anna and I are the only two bartenders here. But I’m happy to get you some mimosas. Is orange juice okay? We also have?—”
“Is your manager here?” asks the third woman, the one who is so deeply tanned her skin looks like leather.
I sigh inwardly but keep a smile on my face as I nod my head to the side. “That would be Anna.”
It is not, in fact, Anna, but they don’t know that. The real manager, Bridget, would most definitely approve though if it means not bothering her.
Leave it to the richest people in here to fight me on a drink that’s already discounted to six dollars.
“So what’ll it be? Orange juice, grapefruit, or cranberry?”
I expect them to fight me on it some more, but thankfully, they each ask for orange and let me walk away.
“Sorry,” Anna says out of the corner of her mouth as I pull a bottle of champagne from the fridge. “Should’ve warned you about them.”
“They’ve been here before?” I ask as I pop the cork.
She nods and grabs the orange juice for me. “Once last week. Got so drunk I thought I’d have to kick them out. Seemed like they were looking for someone.”
I pause and glance at them over my shoulder, my eyebrows pulling together. My mind jumps to Christine. I don’t know if that’s because I haven’t been able to get her off my mind in general, or because she’s the only other person I’ve seen in here that’s as out of place. I can’t see her being friends with them though. Maybe it’s presumptuous to think I know her that well, but from what I’ve seen of her personality, I can’t imagine her liking them.
I gather the drinks and can’t help but overhear their conversation as I walk over.
“…well I always thought it was especially callous of her, given the timing,” says the woman in the middle. “He was devastated after Lily’s death. Vulnerable. And she swooped right in.”
“Then managed to get herself pregnant to seal the deal,” agrees the tan one.
“Here you are.” I slide the drinks in front of them, but none of them acknowledge me.
“The nerve for her to stick around town too?” The third woman laughs, and the sound is ugly and hard. “Should’ve gone back to whatever backwater town she came from.”
I walk away before I have to hear any more. Unfortunately for me, the bar is quiet, and their voices carry.
“…and now poor Casey. That kid doesn’t stand a chance. He’ll probably turn out just like her…”
I freeze a few paces from Anna. Her eyes shoot to my face, and I stare back at her, the blood in my veins running hot. She cocks her head, a question in her eyes, and whatever she sees on my face is enough to spur her forward. She grabs my forearm and pulls me to the other side of the bar.
“Take a deep breath,” she murmurs.
I do. Then another.
It doesn’t help.
One of the women’s laughs cuts through the room again, and my jaw ticks.
Anna’s eyes flick between mine. “You know who they’re talking about.”
It isn’t a question.
She sighs when I don’t respond. “I can take over. Go take a break.”
I shake my head.
“Fletcher—”
I know she’s right. There is no good scenario here if I stay. What I really want to do is kick them the fuck out, but they’re the type to cause a big scene, threaten lawyers, and who knows what else. If I say anything, they’ll love it. Why is this random bartender jumping to her defense? It’ll give them a slew of new material to gossip about, and in the long run, that only hurts Christine more. I clench my hands into fists at my sides.
My phone buzzes in my apron pocket, and Anna nudges me toward the break room.
“Go. Take that. I’ll handle them. Please, Fletch. I’ll even spit in one of their drinks.”
She smirks as I meet her eyes, and I sigh. “Fine,” I grumble, then fish my phone out as I walk. I only make it a few paces before I pause at the sight of the name on the screen.