26. Jess
There is absolutely no way I’m not going to pay for it tomorrow, but Connor insisted we split a fishbowl drink in honor of Henry. After consuming the first quarter of the giant, neon blue liquid, the rest went down like water, and now everything seems like a great idea.
A free kamikaze shot from the bartender? Yes!
Sing Total Eclipse of the Heart on karaoke? Yes!
A giant plate of shredded chicken nachos? Yeeeeesss!
And lucky for me, Connor took my “I don’t drink alone” comment to heart and is right there with me in the trenches.
“I think I might be in love…” he says, “…with these nachos.” He devours a chip that’s so stacked with toppings it seems to defy physics.
“You know what Anna would say if she were here? She’d say…” I giggle just thinking about it and lower my voice. “She’d say something about the chicken on these nachos is, like, the second best cock she’s ever put in her mouth.”
He pauses, another loaded chip hovering in front of his mouth.
I grin at him. “You’re wondering what the first best cock is, aren’t you?”
“It’s humiliating to admit but I am,” he notes as he takes the bite.
“See, that’s exactly what she’d want. She’d have you eating out of her palm by the end of the night.”
Connor looks at me appreciatively. “I don’t think it’s her I’d be interested in.”
I can’t stop the desire that shoots through me. If I was sober, I’d blame it on the alcohol.
“And if she were here, she would totally switch gears and tell you stories that make me sound way cooler than I am. She’s my friend, but she’d end up being your wingman to get us together.”
He considers this. “I think I like Anna.”
“She’s the best,” I agree. “She wants me to swear more, though, I don’t know what that’s about. She won’t rest until I’ve yelled ‘I wanna smoke your pole’ at the top of my lungs.”
Connor coughs violently and I slap him on the back while he drinks water to recover.
“You okay there, champ?”
He clears his throat and looks at me for a moment. “Yeah, that just…um…the visual…” It’s a brief moment before he tries speaking again. “So Anna doesn’t have much of a filter, I take it?”
I shake my head. “I can’t tell if she was just born without one or if she has it and just chooses not to use it.”
“She sounds like my brother.”
“Totally.” I think about it for a second and then gasp. “She should date your brother!”
“What? What are you talking about? Doesn’t she live in California?”
“They would be perfect for each other, Hot Connor. Perfect, I tell you!”
“How would that even work when they’re 1,000 miles apart?”
“I love her…I love him…so then he loves her…and she loves him…”
“Two people who are that alike? They’d probably drive each other crazy before they’d even think about getting together.”
“They’re my two best friends in life, this is the greatest idea I’ve ever had. I need to text them. I need to text them right now. Right this second.” I rummage through my purse.
“Plus, I gotta tell you, Chris is not exactly relationship material, you know? Sabrina really messed him up.”
“Where’s my phone? Why can’t I find my phone?”
“Woah,” Connor puts his hand on my arm to keep me from falling out of my chair. “Easy there, Bonnie Tyler,” he says, referencing my karaoke masterpiece from earlier.
My phone quickly forgotten, my eyes grow wide and I look at him. “Tyler!”
His eyes narrow. “Nooo…I’m Connor, remember?”
“No, no, Bonnie Tyler and Steven Tyler.”
At the mention of Aerosmith’s lead singer, Connor starts vigorously shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Um, absolutely yes! Come on, please! Pleeeeease!”
“Jess, people are staring.”
I don’t reply, I just give him my best pouty face and try to make my eyes bigger and dilate my pupils like the cartoon animals Gemma and Arielle watch all the time.
“You have cheese on your chin,” he sighs.
I hold my expression firm, but I do quickly run a hand over my chin to eradicate said dairy before pursing my lower lip out again. “If you sing, not only will it be an epic tribute to our youth, but I can also be your groupie! Plus, we’d get to share the same last fake name for the rest of the night. That totally cements our relationship.”
Whatever I said, I notice his expression change into one of determination. He stands up slowly (whether it’s for dramatic effect or just to make sure he maintains his balance, I’m not sure), looks towards the makeshift stage set up by the pool tables, and then looks back at me. “So you’re saying,” he comes up close to me. Dangerously close. “That if I go up there and sing a song…that you and I would be officially dating and not just fake dating?”
The combination of vodka, rum, and pheromones makes my head spin, and all I can manage is a weak, “uh-huh,” while staring at his mouth.
He leans in so that his lips are right beside my ear. “All right…Hot Jess.” The bar is too loud for him to whisper, but the deep baritone in his voice by my eardrum sends shivers straight to my core. He pulls back and brushes his thumb across my chin, showing me the cheese that I clearly did not wipe off my face.
Then Connor, still walking backwards with a thumb full of cheese and a too-cocky grin, trips over a barstool behind him. His eyes widen and he spins around quickly to right himself, but that only results in him flying into a table and knocking over two bottles of beer and a glass of water. The people sitting there are about as drunk as we are, so they just laugh it off, but the crash draws the attention of the server, who looks less than happy to be dealing with our nonsense. She rolls her eyes and marches off to grab a rag while the people at the table are patting Connor on the back and assuring him it’s no big deal.
In my foggy state, the best I can do is grab the three whole napkins sitting next to me and rush over. “I can’t take you anywhere,” I laugh. I watch the napkins soak up and then basically disintegrate in the mess of liquid on the table. The server comes up and edges me out of the way with a washrag that smells like it’s never been cleaned.
“I’m so sorry,” Connor apologizes. “Please, let me help,” he tries to grab the rag from her, but she shoves his hands away and glares at him.
“Help me by going that direction,” she snaps and points to the exit. Connor looks at me and mouths, “Yikes,” before apologizing again and quickly walking—forward, this time—towards the DJ.
“He really is sorry.” I feel the need to defend my fake (or I guess newly official?) boyfriend, so I follow the server back to the bar. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink more than a couple of beers. He’s just helping me because I’m really upset about Henry.”
“No, I get it,” she sighs. “Well, not the Henry thing. But I work in a bar, drunk people spill things, it’s fine. I just…I shouldn’t be here, I should be home with my son, but I can’t because I just started this job…” her voice cracks and I can see tears welling in her eyes.
I can’t help it. I’m a sympathetic crier under the best of circumstances, so it doesn’t take much after a day like the one I’ve had. “Oh no, is your son okay?” I whimper.
She doesn’t speak, and her face contorts in the “trying not to sob” expression. She shakes her head no, then nods yes, then throws her arms up in resignation.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
Before she can reply, the ridiculously tall man from the last time I was here, whose name I don’t remember, comes up from behind the bar and puts his hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay here, Ruby?”
She gives him the same wordless head shake that I got. Strapping Bartender Guy takes pity on her and says, “Hey, why don’t you go take a quick break, all right? I’ll keep an eye on your tables.”
This time she’s able to speak. “No, it’s okay.” Pulling herself together, she wipes the tears from her eyes and looks at him resolutely. “I got this.”
He smiles and rubs some of her smeared mascara off with the pad of his thumb. “Yeah you do,” he says softly. “I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Cruz.”
Cruz! That was his name! He walks back to the bar while Ruby sniffles and brushes her hands down the front of her skin-tight jeans.
“Aw, that was so sweet! Have you guys been together long?” I ask.
“Hmm? Oh! God, no, we’re not together. He’s just been helping me learn the job. Strictly coworkers. That’s all.”
She’s clearly trying to convince herself as much as me. And because I am way too familiar with having my personal life invaded by everyone, I don’t dare point out that whatever she thinks, Cruz the Swarthy Cinnamon Roll Barkeep definitely wants to be more than just her coworker.
I don’t miss the way he glances back at her with a protective expression before turning to a customer who’s ordering. “Wow, he is really tall.” I’m apparently fixated on his height. Then I look at her and realize that I only come up to her shoulder. “Dang it, so are you!”
She chuckles. “Maybe you’re just really short.”
“That is accurate,” I agree. “Shortest one in my family. Except for my nieces, but they’re children, so I don’t think it counts.”
“Eh, enjoy it while you can,” she shrugs. “Listen, I’m really sorry I had a meltdown there and please, tell your boyfriend I’m sorry I bit his head off.”
“Oh, he’s not—” I start to correct her, but then I realize that she’s right. Right? “He’s not upset,” I amend. “He’s an incredible guy, I promise. Maybe just not so great at holding his liquor. Or balance. But seriously the kindest man you’ll ever meet. Him and Paul Bunyan over there.”
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Rick!” the DJ announces. “Rick, that was without a doubt the greatest rendition of Jolene we’ve ever heard here tonight. Next up is a song that’s a little newer but still a classic, please give it up for Connor!”
I can’t even control myself, I spin around where I stand to look at the “stage” and scream at the top of my lungs. The beginning guitar riff for Aerosmith’s Rag Doll thumps over the bar speakers.
Connor rolls up the sleeves on his button-down shirt, exposing his mouthwatering forearms, and grabs the mic. “This one goes out to my favorite groupie,” he points at me. “For Henry!”
I cheer again and throw my arms in the air. “For Henry!”
He launches into the song and suddenly I’m back in high school, an average teenager watching the charismatic Price men jam in the garage with my big brother. The same tingles I got junior year work their way down my spine and settled nice and low in my hips. Connor may not be the born front-man that his brother is, but he knows how to sing and he puts his whole body into it. For a moment I don’t even hear anything except the sound of my heart pounding while I absorb the way his strong hands grip the microphone…how the muscles in his neck shift as he hits the higher notes…the easy way his body moves with the music…the look in his eyes when they connect with mine.
“Wow,” Ruby brings me out of my mini fantasy by fanning me with her check presenter. “He’s really good. Are you gonna pass out or maybe spontaneously combust? Do you need some ice water?”
Sweat beads up on my chest and I nod. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I think that’s probably a good idea.”
“Go sit back down,” she snickers. “I’ll bring it to you.”
The people at the table next to us (the proud recipients of the earlier spilled beverages) cheer for me as I walk back to my seat. “Your man is on fire up there!” one of them yells.
“I know!” I agree “Isn’t he amazing?”
When the song ends, the front of the bar roars in applause and he politely thanks all the intoxicated patrons who slap him on the shoulder or tell him how great he is as he makes his way back to me. He pulls up his chair and sits down just as Ruby comes over with two glasses of ice water.
“Some water here for the lead singer and the groupie,” she announces.
I gratefully grab mine and start slamming it in a decidedly unfeminine way.
“Thank you,” Connor says to Ruby. “I’m seriously so sorry about?—”
“Please, it was an accident. I’m sorry I snapped at you. Let’s just call it even, yeah?”
He seems happy with that. “Agreed.”
I’m still drinking, the ice numbing my esophagus, but not the growing, persistent need between my legs. I unceremoniously plunk the glass down on the table and stare at him.
I don’t know if it’s the way he looked on stage or the fact that he dedicated his song to Henry or the fact that I have a fishbowl of booze and three years’ worth of celibacy under my belt…but in less than four minutes, Connor Price went from being a sweet, handsome, fake boyfriend to being a seductive, sexy, very real man, that I want to jump immediately.
Who even am I anymore?
I put my hand on his knee.
He raises his eyebrows.
“That was…um…Henry would have loved it,” I stammer.
Okay, so my mouth hasn’t quite caught up with the rest of my body. I rub the top of his thigh and his quads tense up under my touch. He gently puts his hand over mine and then firmly stops it from moving up any further.
“What’s this?” he asks. “What’s happening here?”
I put on my best coquettish expression. “Just being the best groupie ever,” I purr.
Or at least I think I purred. I’m not sure I really know how to do that.
He looks at me, still slightly confused, when a sharp clap on his back breaks our eye contact. “Hey, man,” Cruz says, “That was really awesome! You’re in a band with your brother and Scott, right?”
“No, no, I just…well actually scratch that. Chris actually just conned me into singing with him for a couple months, so I guess we are sort of in a band together.”
“We have open mic nights on Saturdays, you should come by.”
Ugh, go away, 10 Foot Bar Guy with Perfect Teeth! You’re jacking up my moves!
Disappointed that my eye daggers aren’t working, I sulk and drink some more water. Ruby quietly says, “I’m just gonna leave this here for you,” and slides the check on our table.
I reach for it, but Connor (still engaged in a conversation with the Big Friendly Giant Game Ruiner) slams his hand on top of it and pulls it away from me. Ruby and I freeze and watch as he deftly continues talking to Cruz while pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, extracting his credit card, neatly tucking it into the folder, and handing it back to Ruby. “Thank you,” he smiles at her before turning his attention back to his fanboy.
Ruby and I exchange glances before she leans in to me. “I’ll ring this up in three seconds and get you guys your of here,” she winks.
“You’re my hero.”
I finish my water and, true to her word, Ruby quickly returns with the receipt for Connor to sign. “Hey, Cruz,” she says, “can you come help me with the POS system? Something isn’t ringing up right.”
That’s all it takes to get Cruz’s attention. “Nice talking with you, man,” he shakes Connor’s hand. “Come back on the weekend. Have a good night.” He waves to both of us and follows Ruby back to the bar like a baby duck.
“Uber is outside,” Connor announces.
“When did you call the Uber?”
“Right after the song. I decided it was time to go when I was onstage and saw you staring at me the same way you were staring at those chicken nachos earlier.”
My head falls back and I laugh. “I can’t help it, you’re both delicious.”
Am I flirting right now? Is it working?
“Come on,” he smiles and helps me put my coat on. “Let’s go, real girlfriend.”
“Ooo, I kind of like how that sounds!”
“Me, too.”