Chapter 5 Alessia
“Aly, can you take care of table six, please?” Natasha, the Brookhaven Brews bar manager, calls out, gesturing at me with the pen she keeps always tucked neatly behind her ear. She scribbles something onto the sheet of paper in front of her.
“Yeah, no problem.” More tables mean more money, which is exactly what I need now that my grandma dropped the news that she’s kicking me out.
I grab the two full pints sitting on the bar and head toward table six. After placing the beer down and taking their food orders, I return to the bar. Natasha looks extra stressed tonight, though, to be fair, she always does lately.
She’d told me recently that the owners of the bar offered her part ownership if she agrees to take on more hours.
At first, she’d jumped at the idea—it sounded like a great deal, especially after the thrift shop she worked at in town recently shut down.
But lately, she’s been regretting it now that she realizes it means more work, and not much more pay.
With the dinner rush finally tapering off, she leans her elbows on the bar and gives me a long, scrutinizing look.
“You look stressed,” she says.
I like Natasha. She was one of the first people I clicked with when I moved to Brookhaven to help my grandma and escape the memories of New York City.
I walked into her bar during a busy shift one night and begged her for a job.
She’d handed me an apron and a serving tray and told me not to tell the owners that she’d hired me without their permission, and I’ve been working here ever since.
Shortly after that I got hired at the elementary school, but I’ve kept up with the bartending shifts to supplement my income. It’s also been a nice way to socialize while not having to put myself out there too much.
Natasha’s got this understated beauty about her, dark blonde hair that sometimes looks golden and other times almost brown in the right lighting. Big, round brown eyes. And she never wears a stitch of makeup.
At thirty, she’s close to my age, but unlike me, with my heavy use of sarcasm and dark humor, she’s a free spirit. From the little she’s shared, her parents are billionaires, but they had a falling out years ago and loathe the fact that she didn’t fall in their footsteps.
Hence her strong desire to work at the bar, doing a job she loves instead of some corporate gig they expected her to do.
She’s an Enneagram type 7 with a six wing if you’re into that kind of thing.
When she’s working, she’ll get overwhelmed sometimes, but outside of work, she’s the life of the party.
No strings attached. The only times that we interact is here at the bar, but I can tell if I wanted to, she’d be down to meet up outside of here for a drink.
“You need a date,” I say, pointing my order-taking pen at her serious face and wagging it up and down dramatically.
She rolls her eyes. “You need to date.”
“No, I need some dick.”
That gets her laughing. “I need that too.” She rests her elbows on the bar top and sighs heavily. “It’s been… so, so very long.”
“I have a cousin,” I offer.
Her brow furrows. “I thought you said there were no boys in your family?”
“There aren’t. It’s complicated.” And it is. Sort of.
Sure, there are no blood-related boys in our family—just generations of women giving birth to more women and being tossed aside by the shitty men who swore they loved us. We all say it’s the reason why we never have boy babies, and frankly, I think we all prefer it that way.
But when my mom’s sister, Aunt Devina, remarried for the third time, her new husband came with a son from a previous marriage which was our first introduction to a male who wasn’t a total dick.
Enter Memphis. I was sixteen and he was eleven when he joined our family. He’s five years younger than me, but somehow, he became my best friend for those few years where we lived close. He’s also one of the few men I’ve been able to tolerate consistently in my life.
“It’s my cousin through marriage,” I clarify. “Not blood.”
Her brows knit tighter. “Not on your dickhead ex-husband’s side, right?”
“Would I do that to you?” I deadpan, making her laugh.
“Fine. What’s he like?”
“He’s twenty-five—”
She cuts me off with a hand in the air, her lips forming a thin line as she pushes away from the bar. “No.”
“Come on, seriously, he’s the sweetest, most alpha, cinnamon-roll guy you’ll ever meet!”
“Absolutely not.”
I push out my bottom lip. “You’re judging him based on his age only. That’s not fair.”
“I can’t do younger than me. Even the same age is risky.”
“He’s only five years younger, and he acts much older,” I argue.
She shakes her head and grabs a rag, swiping it across the bar top even though it’s already spotless.
She’s physically incapable of standing still at work.
Honestly, I doubt she stands still anywhere.
I picture her at home the same way. Always moving.
Folding something. Reorganizing a drawer.
Glancing at her watch to check her step count.
I’d bet she burns ten thousand calories a day on sheer momentum alone.
“Aly. Don’t,” she says firmly, ending the conversation before it can go any further.
I wiggle my brows at her. “Please?”
She sighs. “You’re ridiculous. But then I need to find someone for you too.”
“Dick only,” I say putting up my hand as she rolls her eyes.
“Fine.”
“A blind date that knows I just want their dick?”
She nods. “Yes. I have someone for that. It’s my cousin.”
“Look at us, swapping cousins. Cousin swappers,” I tease her.
“I’m warning you, though. This guy is as good as they come.”
“Don’t worry about me falling in love. You know I’m firmly in my I hate men phase right now. I’m just looking for a quick hookup. A distraction.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “He’s divorced too.”
“Ooh, damaged like me. Fun.” I wiggle my brows.
She stops laughing and shakes her head again, more firmly this time. “Don’t call him that.” Her tone softens, and it’s obvious she really cares about her cousin, so I better not fuck this up.
“Sorry. I won’t,” I say quickly, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But please make sure he understands this is just a whole benefits thing. I don’t want him falling in love with me either.”
“You won’t have to worry about that. He’s one of the best guys I know. Maybe the best. He’s always looking out for everyone in his life. Always thinking about others. He’s only recently done something for himself starting a new business, and he never dates. He doesn’t have time for it.”
Damn, now she’s really laying it on thick. I mean, I love my cousin Memphis and think the world of him, but the way Natasha’s serious eyes lock on mine as she describes this guy, it’s clear her cousin’s probably done more for her than most people in her life.
“Got it. I’ll behave. Doesn’t date. I won’t make jokes about being damaged. I promise.”
She studies me for a moment like she’s trying to decide whether she believes me then nods. “Okay, well, you set up this blind date with Memphis, and I’ll set it up with Gabriel.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Gabriel,” I say lowering my voice into a rasp.
She laughs. “Don’t say his name like that when you meet him!”
“Yay! This is going to be so much fun.”
“I hope he agrees when I tell him about this. If not, I can always see if my brother’s available,” she laughs.
“You have a brother?”
She rolls her eyes. “You really don’t pay attention, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Anything else I can help you with?”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“No,” she deadpans, but my grandma’s words pop into my head, and I know I need to rip the Band-Aid off anyway.
If I’m going to settle into this small-town life, I’ve got to start putting myself out there.
Asking for help. First starting with a dick appointment, second with finding a new place to live.
“Actually… I’m in a really tough spot right now.”
She leans forward. “What’s going on?”
“My grandma’s kicking me out of her house.”
She snickers, covering her mouth with her hand. “Saw that coming. I noticed her and her new boyfriend in here a few weeks ago.”
“Ugh, and you didn’t tell me?”
She laughs. “They looked sweet and in love. Your grandma’s gorgeous, by the way.”
“Okay, so help a girl out. Everything to rent in this town sucks and costs a fortune. Help me. I’m poor,” I say blinking my eyes and throwing up my best Kristin Wiig impression from Bridesmaids. “I don’t want to live with total strangers, but I will if I have to. Do you have any leads?”
Natasha wipes down a glass, stacks it carefully, and pauses like she’s really considering her next move. Then she sighs. “Ugh. I never mix work with my personal life, but I’m going to make an exception for you. You should know just how special you are.”
I beam at her, clutching my chest dramatically. “Stop it. I’m going to cry.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re the worst but weirdly, you remind me of my cousin Rhiannon.”
“Oh… another cousin? Is this one single too?”
“Not your type, and no, she’s married,” she says with a smile before shaking her head. “Anyway, I just bought a house in Brookhaven. Right on the lake.”
“You own a house?”
She nods, like this is no big deal. “It was impulsive. But my brother said it’s a smart long-term investment despite his disdain for Brookhaven. He’s always been the one good with money. But with the way the town’s expanding, I think he’s right. It just needs… some minor fixing up.”
“Minor?” I arch a brow.
She flashes a plastered-on smile that screams not minor at all but nods anyway.
I know I don’t have a choice. The place could be a total dump, and I’d still be saying yes to the offer that I know is coming.
I don’t know Natasha well, but I know her enough to know she’s not a stranger or a serial killer that I’d have to worry about.
“Yeah, but it’s totally doable. I have a plan to get it together soon.”
“Okay…”
“But what would really help me with that plan is having a roommate. Someone there while I’m trying to get used to managing this bar, eventually owning it, and dealing with the construction company I’ll need to hire when I can’t be there to do work.”
I nod eagerly. “I think I could swing that. I teach at the elementary school, but other than that I work here at the bar one or two times a week. What would I need to do?”
“Let the construction crew in. Monitor them so they don’t steal anything. There might be a few minor projects I could use your help with like painting and cleaning.”
“Cleaning?” I shudder dramatically.
“Aly, do you really have any other options?” She folds her arms across her chest, pinning me with a look that feels way too smug for my taste.
Wow. Okay. When did this flip around to her demanding that I move in? “Okay, no, but ouch. Thanks for reminding me.”
She smirks. “So, you’re in?”
“Let me think about that…” I joke. “Is there a lake view?”
She rolls her eyes. “Even if there wasn’t, we both know you’d still do it. But yes, there is a lake view. The dock isn’t in the best shape, but we’ll just add it to the list of things that need fixed.”
Add it to the list!
Like we’re both not working at a bar right now and existing on very tight budgets with limited free time.
“What’s the rent?”
“I don’t know. I just came up with this idea five seconds ago. You tell me what you can afford.”
“Okay, I’ll look at all my thousands of dollars’ worth of bills and get back to you,” I respond.
Her grin spreads wider. “I haven’t moved myself in yet, but I’m closing on Friday. I’ll have my realtor give you a tour beforehand. Looks like we’re gonna be roomies.”
“And cousin fuckers!”
“Never say that again,” she snaps before heading to the back of the bar.