Jade
Chapter two
"One of these days you'll say yes," Kevin slurs from his side of the bar.
I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes.
"Not even if you're the last man on Earth," I say. "Now go the fuck home, we're closing."
He stumbles from his stool, catching himself on the counter. When he rights himself, he grabs his junk and thrusts his hips forward. "Surely if this was the last sausage on earth, you'd want a taste, Jade baby."
"Two things, man. One, if you call me baby again, you won't have a sausage to grab anymore, and two, I'd take a taco over that disease-infested dick any day of the fucking week. Go home."
Kevin chuckles as he walks backward to the door. "See you tomorrow, baby."
A hand grabs my wrist as I throw the bottle, and it smashes onto the floor in front of the bar instead of on that douchebag's head.
"Addie, what the fuck?" I say.
"Jade, you can't kill the customers."
I turn to look at her. "Why the hell not?"
She sighs and piles her long blonde hair into a messy bun on top of her head. "Because then I'd have to work with someone else. Also, murder is bad."
I roll my eyes. "Only if I get caught."
"You're in a mood tonight," she says. "I mean, you're always in a mood, but tonight was kind of brutal."
"Coop's with my mom," I say.
Her lips form a small O, and she cracks two beers, handing me one.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket, checking for any missed calls or texts. None. I'm not sure whether that's good or bad, but I slide it onto the counter in case Coop calls.
We walk around the bar and take residence on two stools, dumping the jars of tips on the counter. A penny bounces in front of me, spins, and then rolls off the bar.
Fucking Kevin.
It's always fucking Kevin.
Addie downs her beer and leans over the counter to snag another out of the cooler.
"Wow, what's eating your ass?" I ask.
She drops her head into her hands. "Do you ever feel like a failure?"
"Girl, my life is one big fuck-up."
"My brother's home."
I rack my brain trying to remember what she told me about him.
He's a lot older, I remember that, and I've seen pictures of him around her house.
For a middle-aged man, he's attractive. He looks like a younger, larger version of Addie's dad—tall, shaggy blonde hair, and a nice smile. Typical boy next door. Well, man.
"You know how Mom convinced him to have surgery here and we'd all chip in to help him?" she asks.
I must look as dumbfounded as I feel because she throws me a bone and shrugs.
"Anyway, the rental he had lined up fucking caught fire and now he's home.
As in home home. Mom and dad let him take over their bedroom.
And I love my brother. He's actually pretty amazing, even if Mateo is an adult-adult, not like a—"
My phone vibrates on the counter, the screen lighting up with Cooper's face. I offer Addie an apologetic smile, but don't hesitate to answer the video call.
He rubs his eyes, the only light coming from his phone.
"You're late," he says.
I check the time. "Not yet."
"You're still at work, which is ten minutes away, and it's 11:07, which means you'll be late."
"How'd you get so smart?"
He shrugs.
"You're supposed to say you get it from your mom," Addie yells so he can hear her.
"You should be asleep." I narrow my eyes at him.
He scrunches his nose.
"Grandma snores, and her apartment stinks," he says.
I stifle a laugh. Yup, definitely gets it from me.
"I'm counting tips, and then I'll pick you up, okay?"
"Did you have a good night?"
"Sure did, kid. We're one step closer to a new car," I tell him.
He yawns, stretching his arm over his head, and the sleeve of his pajama shirt rides up. I guess a trip to the thrift store is in order.
"See you soon," I say, and we hang up.
Addie nudges me with her elbow. "You didn't fuck that up."
Nope. That eight-year-old saved me. He's my reason for breathing.
"Oh, Mom wanted me to ask you if you're coming for dinner tomorrow," she says.
I nod. Sunday dinner with Addie's family is my favorite part of the week.
Cooper's too. Her parents are wonderful with him.
So much so they've started watching him most nights while I'm at work.
Except for tonight, because my mom begged to take him.
I swear to all that's fucking holy, if I even smell a whiff of smoke in his hair or see a bottle of anything on her counter, I'll lose my shit.
I look over at my best friend, waiting for her to continue her emotional unloading, but instead, she offers me a small smile, and I know the conversation is finished. She'll talk when she's ready.
We finish separating bills and count them up.
Over a thousand dollars. Not bad for a Saturday.
I take my half, and Addie slides the extra dollar my way, like always.
She wipes down the bar, and I clean up the broken bottle I threw on the floor.
We yell goodbye to Gus, our boss, through the propped office door and lock the entrance as we leave.
At our cars, I let Addie hug me. I'm not one for physical affection, never have been, unless it's with Coop.
Breaking the cycle and all that. She hugs me longer than usual, but I don't let go, not until she does.
Something about her brother being home is fucking her up, and I decide I don't like him.
Not when my normally charismatic friend isn't acting herself.
"See you tomorrow," I say.
She nods and climbs into her shiny SUV. The one her parents bought her a few months ago after she totaled her car. A little green monster slithers up my spine, and I force it back down as I climb into my second-hand sedan and pray it turns over.
Cooper is asleep on my mom's couch when I get there, his old baby blanket pulled up to his chin, and his phone clutched to his chest. He looks so peaceful, and I hate having to wake him up.
If he were at Addie's house, we'd both sleep there tonight.
Or he would, and I'd pick him up in the morning.
Instead, my mom snores from her recliner, an unlit cigarette hanging from her fingertips.
At least it looks like she was waiting until he left.
I nudge her with my foot, and she startles awake. I point to Coop and then mime leaving, and she nods. UNO cards litter the floor, and I step over them, removing the phone from his hands and sliding it into my pocket.
"He's too young for that thing," my mom croaks.
I level her with a glare, but don't bother responding. She wouldn't understand. My son will always be able to call me for help. He'll never wonder if I forgot him or be put in a situation he can't get out of. Ever.
I scoop him up and wonder how much longer I'll be able to lift him, let alone carry him down a flight of stairs. He shifts in my hold, wrapping his arms around my neck.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hey, kid."
Mom holds the door open for me, and I maneuver down the old wooden stairs with Coop in my arms. By the time I make it back to my car from her second-floor apartment, my body aches, and I struggle to catch my breath.
I get Coop into his seat, tuck his blanket under his arm, and pray as I sink into the driver's seat.
Please start.