Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
CINDEL
Muddy puddles gather along the streets, overflowing from drains clogged with leaves, while the sun stays hidden behind a heavy blanket of gray clouds.
It seems as though the comforting warmth I sought shall remain hidden for another day.
Although I felt physically stronger, the combination of weather and disturbing information from my dark visitor left me feeling weak-willed.
Your brother started poking around, where he didn’t belong.
He discovered secrets. He even said Theo may have left something behind for me.
A deep chill lingers in the very marrow of my bones, no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it. I couldn’t stay in bed any longer.
Getting ready for work, I polish off the rest of the eerily, nostalgic soup, pack some extra cold medicine, and slowly make my way to The Black Sheep.
The onslaught of frigid rain wasn't going to let up anytime soon, so I dress accordingly.
I finally found the missing yellow rain jacket in my closet.
Paired with some galoshes and I am shielded from the elements.
When I arrive, I hang my coat, noticing they’ve already taken down the decorations from the Halloween Bash.
Now, Fall is in full swing. Muted leafy garland weaves between velvet pumpkins, on the glass liquor shelves behind the counter.
I’m overjoyed that they didn’t skip right to the Christmas decor.
Connor emerges from the back, holding a stacked tray of clean glasses; Brittany replenishes napkins, while Garron and Dax take up residence at a table in the back.
Garron was carrying on about how the hook and ring game is rigged, and the real test of skill lies within darts. I think he was just being a poor sport about losing to his accomplice. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Garron throw a fit due to Dax besting him in a tabletop game.
As I approach the table, I realize another body occupies a third chair. My rubber boots squeak with each step, causing the hidden form to peek around the pillar.
Her assessing eyes travel down to my footwear then back up to my face. With a curling lip, she turns back to the table before leaning back into her chair.
“Jada… Back already?”
Her booted foot is elevated within one of the adjacent chairs. The look of distaste morphs into a tight, high-cheeked smile, as if the brief review was all in my head.
“No, not yet,” she responds, closer to a bad-mannered child. “I just wanted some quality company,” she announces, looking between the two bruisers at the table.
Garron smirks then winks at Jada before landing the little metal ring on the hook in one perfect swing.
He spits his usual toothpick he carries in his mouth to the floor and hoots.
Then proceeds to stick out his tongue at Dax.
The man on the receiving end appears unfazed, easily giving his friend the middle finger.
I look down to the toothpick on the ground. Suddenly brought back to the sliver of wood I found near my bed. I tossed it, thinking nothing of it, but now I gawk between it and the nonsensical man before me. Could he…
“You look like that little girl from the salt container!” Garron shakes me from my train of thought. I regard him as he lifts his chin slightly toward the rack that holds my yellow, dripping garment. Dax leans forward, whacking Garron upside his head. “Ow! It’s a joke, Ax!”
A forced giggle tumbles from Jada; one I’ve heard too many times over the months working here. Men often take notice of her, it’s easy when you have ample cleavage, pouty lips, and long eyelashes.
“Just a few more weeks till I’m out of this damned boot,” Jada shares. “Till then, you’ll find me hobbling around this place. If I’m not at home watching Real Housewives.”
Eamon unexpectedly appears at my side, causing me to startle. “Hello, Cindel, glad to have you back. Are you well?”
I nod. “Yes, much better.”
I can't help but notice the way Jada sits up straighter and adjusts her shirt when Eamon is nearby. Is no one off limits for her? I mean, not that he’s off limits, but we have been on two dates now.
I know we aren’t a couple. Getting to know Eamon more intimately, he’s different than I expected.
Kind, familiar, and even special. She’s not good enough for him.
Jada doesn’t care who looks, as long as someone is looking.
That once icy center in me melts with fiery possessiveness.
Eamon doesn’t seem to notice, plucking a speck of dust I can’t even see from the sleeve of his jacket.
He turns to me, looking more like himself than last time I saw him, completely sloshed.
“Did you get the gift I sent over?” He asks me.
Jada’s once dreamy gaze toward Eamon, suddenly shifts to me with a look that could kill. “Yes, thank you,” I answered softly. I’m uncomfortable having everyone listen in on how my boss was courting me with gifts.
“And…?” He insists.
“Umm, I consider all the eyes on me around the table, some with jealousy, others with boredom.
“About the dinner invitation?” Right. The bottle of wine he delivered to my apartment with the note.
Is it hot in here? I feel hot. I push the stray hair behind my ear.
“Ummm…” I look between the four pairs of eyes on me. Jada seems beyond pissed. I don’t know what comes over me, but I stare into her eyes and answer, “Yes. That sounds really nice.”
He brings his hands together, causing a loud clap. “Wonderful! It’s all set. I’ll send a car next Monday, at six.”
I swear I see a vein bulging from the side of Jada’s neck and I’m fulfilled by the sight. Dax stands abruptly, causing the chair to nearly tip over, and then walks straight into the torrential rain, entirely composed.
Garron comments first, “Guy is moodier than a woman.”
Jada snickers at Garron’s comment, placing her hand on his, before slowly rubbing upward toward his shoulder.
Her movements are intentional, methodical, as she continues laughing over nothing, fluttering her eyelashes while assessing the two men who are left.
Jada is starving for attention. Garron doesn’t seem to mind the obvious play, letting her body remain on him for long moments before announcing he’s going to make a cash run for the till, since Dax is on the rag.
“Is he okay?” I ask Eamon softly, in regard to the man that just stormed out.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Needs time to work through his shit. He always returns sooner or later.”
I follow Eamon behind the bar as he talks, happy to get far away from Jada’s unsettling aura.
“Dax isn’t too keen on communicating. He hasn’t been the same since the incident.” Eamon begins setting up the clean glasses, still covered in condensation, onto the bar mats along the back wall.
“What happened to him?” I keep myself busy next to Eamon, slicing apples for the new cider-bourbon drink that’s been added to the fall menu.
“I’ve known Dax for multiple years now. He’s furiously loyal and ungodly stubborn. Last spring, Dax and Garron were sent to collect on a debt…” He pauses briefly as if deciding on his next words. “The situation took a wrong turn…” he finally reveals.
I’ve stopped chopping, only focusing on Eamon’s mouth as he forms each suspenseful word.
“The guy they were sent to collect from pulled a knife. Dax was just following orders, like so many times before.” Eamon has also stopped his monotonous task. Now facing me fully. “Every time I look at him, I wish it would have been me instead.”
I picture the man in question. His perpetually reserved state…
the intriguing scar… it all suddenly made sense now.
The first time I interacted with him, I shouted at him.
Told him to stop washing dishes behind the bar.
That was before I knew who Garron and Dax were.
This narrative makes me question if I really know who any of these men are, or what they’re capable of.
I can’t keep the question from falling out. “Did Dax lose his ability to speak?” I watch Eamon’s head and shoulders droop, then he nods.
“What about the other guy?” I had to know, why…? I’m not sure. “Did he go to jail? The guy that pulled the knife…”
His mouth tilts upward on one side, causing a crooked smile. “He’s where he belongs,” Eamon declares.
Connor appears from the back. Coming between us, he places down another plastic pallet of glasses. “Hey. Could use some help in the back with the ice machine. It seems to be on the fritz again.” Eamon raises an eyebrow and tilts his head toward me.
“I’m good.” I lie through a smile no less convincing than Jada’s inability to use tact.
He follows Connor to the back, leaving me with my thoughts and a lot of fruit to pack into condiment containers before opening.
Jada eventually hobbles out of the bar, being sure to only hug Brittany goodbye as her eyes pin me with an assessing glare. I secretly wish she fractures something else on her way home.
This is one of the slowest nights I’ve worked to date.
Not many people are willing to brave the weather just to try out a few seasonal, apple themed drinks.
Dax eventually shows back up. Soaking wet and looking more ornery than usual.
I can’t help but watch the way residual rainwater clings to his face, before finally dripping down his jaw, and past the purple scar.
Everything about him is intense, even without him uttering a word.
I couldn’t imagine not being able to speak.
Although, I’m sure a lot of people wonder what it’s like to be someone who can’t hear without assistance.
Is one really any worse than the other? I doubt there’s any surgery that restores your voice.
Is there? All at once, I realize I’ve been staring at him way too long. Now, he’s watching me.
Shit. I scrambled to keep myself busy, wiping down the bar top that wasn’t even dirty. Dax leaves shortly after my awkward bout of gawking, with an ever-foolish Garron at his side.