23. Luke
CHAPTER 23
Luke
Working at a bar sucks. Working at a college bar on February 13th when every single person in the city is dying to get laid once the clock strikes twelve sucks even more. Doing it with a hangover is a bitch.
After allowing myself a few minutes of self-pity that I don’t deserve because I brought this upon myself by drinking my sorrows last night at Andrew’s gravesite, I start to put in the weight at work.
“What can I get you guys?” I ask the barely legal junior students that I know from school.
“Tequila shots,” the one with the sleeve tattoos says, grinning. The rest are busy picking their hookup for the night.
“Four tequila shots coming right up.”
After serving them, I check my phone to see my chat with Gigi.
Where are you?
Gigi
Lunch shift at the restaurant. I didn’t want to wake you.
Damn. I have classes and then I’m going straight to The Wilted Flower. I was hoping we could talk.
We’ll talk tomorrow.
I’m sorry, Gi. For losing my temper. For ruining the baby shower. For ditching you last night.
Don’t worry about it.
Date night tomorrow? It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ll make it special. I promise.
Cool.
Cool . Like her right now. Through these texts. Giuliana Palmer, the ice princess.
I deserve it. I tug at the crew neck collar of my sweatshirt, remembering what Kai said to me when we finished the nursery the other day.
I think she’s depressed.
She couldn’t be, right? I shake my head, willing his words to leave me alone. Gigi’s just hormonal. She’s been having mood swings ever since she found out she was pregnant. Besides, she studies psychology, for fuck’s sake. She’d know the signs and tell me if she was.
She also just turned twenty. Not a teen mom, per se, but anybody would be stressed being pregnant that young. This is why I’m doing everything I can to make her life better. This is why I spend every minute of my free time peeling wallpaper. This is why I’m serving those guys multiple rounds of tequila shots. Shit, did we do anything for her birthday?
“Take one with us!” sleeve tattoo guy slurs.
His friends egg him on. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”
“Maybe the next round,” I say, shaking my head. I still feel the pounding in my head from last night. It would take a miracle for me to drink shots with these idiots.
After serving a few more patrons, I go to the corner and text Gigi again.
Do you have to work tomorrow night?
Gigi
I haven’t worked the dinner shift in weeks.
Since when?
I’ll see if anyone can cover for me at the bar tomorrow. I’ll take you somewhere nice and then we can talk about everything.
That’s not good enough.
I love you.
The three dots appear and Gigi is typing, but someone is calling me in a high pitched voice.
“A Moscow mule, please!” I groan, already knowing who it is. When I enter her peripheral vision with her poison of choice, she flashes me a big smile. “Luke, right?”
I nod. “Bridget.”
“Don’t worry,” she says, leaning in closer than necessary. “You’re married. I remembered. Learned my lesson.”
“Did anyone tell you he’s married to his stepsister?” another voice I know asks.
From behind her, my ex-girlfriend pops out of nowhere. I glare at her. She’s never liked Gigi; I’m not a moron. She didn’t like Gigi before we got together, and she didn’t like Gigi afterward, either. The former was my own doing, though. Back when I was with her, I would complain about Andrew spending less and less time with me because he was with Gigi. I should’ve known better. Andrew was going through shit. He was always just so chirpy before I left for college, and when he and Gigi became a thing not long after, I thought his changed persona was a natural progression.
My body stiffens and Kai’s goddamn words pop back in. Alarm bells start to go off in my head.
I think she’s depressed.
Am I ignoring the same thing twice? I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I’ll be damned if I repeat the same mistake.
“That’s some kinky shit!” Bridget giggles.
“The stepsister used to date his cousin,” Autumn adds, stirring the fucking pot even more. God, what did I ever see in this chick?
“Second cousin,” I correct her, rolling my eyes.
Bridget’s mouth hangs open while Autumn’s forms a satisfied smirk.
“And then I dated her, knocked her up, married her, and we lived happily ever after,” I deadpan, drumming my fingers on the bar counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think someone on the other end wants to order.” I’m not wasting another second with these two mean girls. Definitely don’t get paid enough to put up with this shit.
Nobody is actually calling me, but sleeve tattoo guy and his band of hooligans are happy to see me. Their group got bigger in the time I was entertaining my ex-girlfriend and her friend. Now it’s a mix of students and teaching assistants I know from the business department. There are two guys that I haven’t met before. They look too old to be in college. A Ph.D. student, maybe?
“My man,” the drunk jock next to sleeve tattoo guy says to me like we’re bros. “Another round of your best tequila, please. We’re trying to loosen my brother here. He’s been cooped up doing his master’s thesis.” He puts his arm around one of the guys that’s too old to be studying here.
“What are you studying?” I ask as I prepare their drinks with my back facing the group. I don’t really care, but my manager has been on my ass about being more friendly to customers. He asked me, and I kid you not, whether I was on the spectrum or not. No, Jake. I just have a shitty fucking attitude.
Another guilt trip inside my head. I’ve been giving Gigi my shitty fucking attitude. When was the last time I came home and listened to her talk about her day?
“Finance.”
I turn my head sharply toward him. “No shit,” I say with too much excitement. “I’m really interested in doing that after I’m done with my bachelor’s degree.”
Or was. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my life anymore. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there and see how life is with the twins, I guess. Once the money from the house comes through, I could technically still do my master’s, but the financially right decision would be to get a job after I graduate.
“Yeah? What are you doing now?”
“Accounting.”
He nods his head, pleased with my answer. “Not bad. The accounting program here is strong.”
Finance guy dutifully drinks his tequila shot with his group. I’m about to text Gigi again when sleeve tattoo guy orders another round of shots, making the bottle in my hand the third one this group has emptied. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Take one with us this time,” his friend whines.
A girl I know who works at the university joins in on the conversation as she squeezes between finance guy and his brother. “And then you can bond with my husband about numbers and other boring things!”
“Shots! Shots! Shots!” the group cheers. Everyone is slurring their words. All of them hammered to their maximum capacity.
“Alright.” I finally relent, lifting both hands up in the air. “But you’re going to let me interrogate you after,” I say to the guy studying finance. “I really want to know more about the master’s program.”
I’ve got two more hours here at this shitty bar before I have to clock out. I might as well make the best of it.