Chapter 27
. . .
Vesper
Riley’s in December is always madness, but tonight is especially busy.
I haven’t stopped, the soles of my feet screaming in the Nike sneakers Silas bought me over two years ago. I should probably replace them, but I’m too frugal and stubborn to spend money on anything for work.
At least the tips tonight have been good. The start of the Christmas period always has people tossing cash around like candy—that is, until January hits, and everyone retracts into their shell, financially broke and grumpy.
Taking a twenty-dollar bill from a tall, dark-haired guy who is clearly out on a date with the redhead standing next to him, I mix the cosmopolitan she ordered and pour him a Jack Daniel’s and Coke, and he tells me to keep the change.
I stick two dollars in the tip jar and spin around to take the next order, coming face-to-face with Silas’s teammate Mason.
“What are you doing here?”
He looks as shocked as I feel. “I was going to ask you the same question. Silas said that you don’t usually work on Wednesday nights.”
Julian, one of my team members, takes over serving, which gives me a few minutes to talk with Mason.
To date, we haven’t had all that much interaction, but from the little we have spoken, I like him.
Even if I didn’t already know he was going through a tough time personally, I would be able to tell that from the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes.
He looks like he hasn’t slept properly in days, maybe even weeks.
“I’m picking up extra shifts where I can. Having a baby is going to be a drain financially.”
After we finished having the best cabin sex known to man, Silas and I fell into lazy conversation before we returned to the rest of the group.
Turned out, he’d told the guys about the pregnancy not long before I broke it to the girls.
Probably just as well since I’m terrible at keeping my own secrets, particularly exciting ones.
This week has been weird without Silas around, although we’ve spoken on the phone every night. And even though we aren’t officially together, it feels like we’re dating.
I think if he asked me to be his girlfriend, then I’d definitely say yes.
Just call me Vesper Stone, the bartender who breaks up with the asshole brother, only to be impregnated by his famous, better-looking sibling.
Julian slides a beer into Mason’s hand and takes a fifty-dollar bill from him.
“Keep it.” Mason waves away the change when Julian offers it out to him.
He takes a large pull from his beer, and I fight to keep my mouth closed; he’s almost downed the whole thing in one.
“You know your boyfriend is a multimillionaire, right?” he says on a swallow.
I redirect my eyes from Mason’s glass to his face.
“I’m not looking for handouts. I like to pay my way in life,” I retort, not bothering to correct Mason on my relationship status with Silas.
Mason subtly nods, turning his glass around on the bar top. He looks deep in thought, almost tortured by whatever’s spinning in his mind.
“I’ve got to ask,” I say quietly, “but why aren’t you with the rest of the team? Silas never mentioned that you didn’t travel to Vegas.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I was supposed to join them out there, but I couldn’t shake a stomach flu.”
My eyes fall back to the beer in Mason’s left hand.
I don’t say anything since it’s not my place, but I’m almost sure that a stomach flu is not the reason why he’s still in Seattle.
When you’ve been a bartender for as long as I have, you learn to identify the ones who are out for a drink to relax with friends and the ones who, sadly, are hitting the booze more than they should and for deeper reasons than to simply have a good time.
I think that’s why I held space for Kane and his drinking for way longer than I should’ve. I could see that he wasn’t happy with his life, with who he was, and I wanted to be the one to make things better for him.
My mom was the same with my dad; I remember so many times, Naomi and I used to sit on the top step at home while they fought over money and Dad’s drinking habit.
Leaning my forearms on the bar top, I lower my voice so no one can hear.
Quite honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t being asked for autographs and pictures.
NHL players are generally left alone in public, but Riley’s is a sports bar, and he’s taking a risk, being seen out like this, especially if word gets back to the team that he isn’t holed up in bed, nursing himself back to health.
It’s clear Mason isn’t thinking straight about life or the risks he’s taking with his career, and that worries me on his behalf.
“Beer can’t be good for a sensitive stomach lining,” I can’t help pointing out in a nonjudgmental tone.
Mason slides onto a stool and presses his lips together, deep in thought. “Can I ask you a question? Aside from my mom, I could use a female point of view.”
“Shoot,” I say, noticing that the bar area is starting to quiet down now that it’s getting later.
Mason pulls his phone from his pocket, taps the screen a few times, and slides it toward me on the counter. It’s a picture of a blonde girl who kind of looks familiar and a guy I’ve never seen before. They’re standing in front of a cute stone cottage, and the setting screams of somewhere in Europe.
“If Silas had his arms around another girl, like this guy does with my wife, would you think there was something going on between them?”
I study the image for a second. The dude is holding her in a fairly intimate way, although they could be really good friends.
And then it hits me, where I recognize the girl from.
“Wait.” I point to the image. “Your ex-wife is named Eloise, isn’t she?”
Mason looks uncomfortable at my choice of words. “Technically, she’s still my wife; we’re just separated. But, yeah, that’s her name. Why?”
“When everything went down online with Drew and Will, that same night, I bumped into her in an Italian restaurant. Drew and I were having a meal, and she approached our table, asking for …” I trail off, wanting to keep some kind of girl code. “Asking for … lady products.”
Mason slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Yeah, that was probably her. She’d flown back from France, although we didn’t talk.
” He scoffs and downs the rest of his beer.
“I don’t think she ever wants to speak to me again, if I’m honest. Not now that she has a new guy in her life.
” He shakes his head. “He was always waiting in the wings, biding his time to make a move on my girl.”
I hold up a hand, ready to tell Mason to stop spiraling when my blood runs cold as Kane sidles up next to him, a cheek-aching grin plastered on his face and a soulless glaze in his steely gray eyes.
“Vesper, how are you doing?” he asks, knowing full well that he isn’t welcome here.
Mason looks between us both, the metaphorical cogs turning in his brain when he registers the horror carved into my expression.
“Is everything okay, Ves?” Mason asks, turning his body away from Kane.
He’ll have to do a lot more than that for my ex to get the hint. He’s here to talk and likely because he knows Silas isn’t in town.
“How about you pay for my first beer and leave me and my ex-girlfriend alone?” Kane grunts to Mason.
Mason’s brows pull together, and I subtly nod at him. I’m not sure how much he knows about Kane, but I’m certain he can pick up on the hostile vibes.
Even so, there’s not much Mason can do. It’s not like he can call Silas since he isn’t supposed to be in Riley’s.
“Everything’s fine,” I reassure the Rogues defenseman when he still doesn’t move from his stool.
Mason points to a booth around twenty feet behind him. “I’ll be over there if you need me.”
It’s amazing how bullies and abusers like Kane shrink into their shell when they’re surrounded by potential witnesses to their behavior and the person they planned on intimidating doesn’t acknowledge them once.
Sitting in the staff room after one of the hardest shifts I’ve had at Riley’s, I silently congratulate myself for deflecting Kane’s attempts to engage me in conversation as I actively went about serving customers until he finally took the hint and left fifteen minutes later.
If there’s one thing narcissists hate, it’s being ignored. And like the snake he is, Kane slithered his way out of the door with a sour look etched into his features.
Vesper Stone: one. Kane Giles: zero.
Wearing a satisfied grin, I finally build up the energy to stand and make my way home when Julian appears in the doorway.
He thumbs behind him in the general direction of the bar. “Okay, the register is emptied, and I’ve restocked the refrigerators, ready for tomorrow.”
Offering him a warm smile, I grab my black jacket from one of the hooks lining the left wall and slip it on, my exhausted fingers moving slower than normal as I start doing up the buttons.
“You did a really great job tonight; we were way busier than predicted, even for a December evening,” I praise the newest member on my team.
Julian smiles at the compliment, his delight reaching his brown eyes as he pulls a tie from his ponytail and lets his dark hair fall around his shoulders. “Were you talking to Mason James earlier?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I knew he’d be recognized by someone, and I hope that it was only by Julian. “Yeah,” I simply reply. “Mason is a good guy.”
Julian drums his fingers against the doorjamb, deep in thought. “The news outlets were reporting he’d not traveled with the team due to sickness.”
I hold up a hand, ready to deliver an important lesson when it comes to the hospitality industry.
“One thing to remember about bartending, Julian: Whatever you witness while on shift remains on shift, if you catch my drift. We see a snippet of someone’s life from behind that bar, and it’s not our place to judge or pass comment, unless we’re concerned for someone’s safety or by their behavior. ”