Chapter 4
Rory
A few days after seeing the Pool God, as I’ve come to dub him, I wake with a heaviness I knew was coming. It’s been too long since I’ve felt it, so I’m definitely due for some downtime. Not in a good way. When I open my eyes, I immediately resist the idea of the day starting. Glancing at my phone, I note that it’s almost 2 p.m., which means I need to get moving to make it to work. Especially since the heaviness will slow me down.
I lay on my back for a few minutes, feeling the despair sink into my bones as I stare at the ceiling. There’s nothing to despair about, but I suppose depression doesn’t really have to make sense, does it? My body resists the idea of moving, but I know I need to. My mind is telling me I need to, therefore it must be important, but my emotions and my body don’t give a shit.
Wallowing is much easier than moving. Maybe I should call in today. I consider the idea for a brief moment before my rational mind points out that I need the money. Muttering internal curses at my stupid, rational mind, I slowly move my body from the bed and trudge to the shower. It takes twice as long to get through my routine of shower and blow dry, but I get it done. Looking at the clock, it’s now 3:30 p.m. and I start work at 5 p.m. Food sounds terrible, but if I don’t eat something, I know I’ll regret it when my boss gives me shit halfway through my shift.
I tip my head back and let out a petulant groan. I don’t want to adult. Standing there, in the kitchen, with my head tilted back, I’m working up the internal dialogue to get my feet moving toward the fridge. Thankfully, on clear days, I remember to buy things like pre-made frozen sandwiches and protein shakes, so when this hits me, I’m prepared. Trying to make anything isn’t going to happen. My limbs weigh too much, and I’m going to have to fake it extra hard at work. So, I grab a sandwich and warm it up. Once I finish that, I grab a protein shake and make my way to the car.
Walking into the pub, I shake my shoulders and push forward a cheerfulness I don’t feel. Walking feels like an effort and people are too loud. Once I’m clocked in and my purse is stored, I move behind the bar to start my shift. My coworker, Tim, is there already, cleaning some glasses and cashing a customer out.
“Made it right before the rush,” he comments to me absent-mindedly.
“I do what I can,” I tell him, pushing some friendliness into my voice.
Pulling out the garnishes, I start prep by slicing lemons and limes and storing them in the containers they belong to. I’m praying for the shift to go quickly, but one can never tell.
“You feeling alright?” Tim looks over at me.
I turn and give a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay, no worries.”
Tim, being too perceptive for his own good, doesn’t look like he believes me, but he doesn’t push either. If I were someone who kept friends, I’d definitely count Tim as a friend. I know better though; most people don’t hang around depression. Affixing a better smile on my face, I return to my task. Once I complete that, I notice the bar is starting to fill up, so Tim and I divide sides and get to work.
I can feel a gaze on the side of my face, and I look over to the far side of the bar. Fuck. He’s here again today. I wish he would stop. He’s here every damn weekend and today is not a day I can handle him being here. Thankfully, he is on Tim’s half of the bar, and I don’t have to talk to him. My heart is racing and giving into the urge to cry is incredibly tempting, but this job is more important than my mental breakdown. I can do this. I can make it through the shift.
I hope.
Wes
The construction site today is busy. We’re finally making some progress and there are beams stretching up in the air. It’s always satisfying to see progress when it feels like we’ve gone so long without any. The first part of the project is always tricky. You want to see results right away, but that’s not how it works.
“Hey! You done yet?” I yell at a couple of coworkers who are just standing around.
“What the hell do you mean? Of course we’re done!” one shouts back.
“I mean with your gossip hour. You guys look like a bunch of teenage girls giggling over there.” I laugh as I walk over.
“Fuck off!” one of the women jokes. “You’d know best!”
“You know it!”
“Got plans tonight?” someone else asks.
“Nah, you guys?” I reply.
“Some of us do, some don’t. Wanna head over to Jerry’s pub for a few drinks?”
“Sounds great. See you guys there!” I tell them.
We don’t have a ton of pubs in the area, so Jerry’s is a staple. I gather my shit and hop in my truck to drive across town to the pub. Once parked, I put on some additional deodorant, because physical work means I smell, then head in. Looks like a few of them have already grabbed a table, so I head over and grab a seat.
Appetizers appear, and we shoot the shit. My beer empties, and as I look around for the waitress, my eyes catch on the bartender. There are two of them, but I barely notice the guy because she has my full attention. Tall, long hair braided back, and green eyes crinkling with friendliness at customers as she chats with them while making her drinks.
My mind flashes back to the gym the other day and I’m wondering if this is the same girl that Kyle was staring at. She looks incredibly similar, but I didn’t exactly study her either, so I could be wrong. Plus, the odds would be slim for me to see her here, but I suppose it’s possible. Our town isn’t the size of Chicago, but it’s not tiny either. So slim odds, but not impossible. Nodding at the rest of the table, I get up to head over to the bar and ask her to make me a drink.
Yeah, I could wait for the waitress, but even if this girl isn’t the one from the gym, she is gorgeous, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. A stool vacates as I walk toward the bar, and I can see her up close. She’s chatting with customers, laughing with them, but I can see a heaviness there. She’s forcing it and I’m sure it’s her job to force it a little, but I’m curious what’s underneath. It looks like she’s struggling more than she lets on.
I steal the vacated stool and sit with my arms folded on the bar itself, staring like a total asshole. There’s a part of me that thinks I should stop staring, but I can’t do that. If she calls me on it, I’ll admit to it. Can’t help it, so may as well own it. She looks over at me and my heart about stops. Those green eyes see right through me, and there’s something sad there, hidden deep down. Not sure why I think that, but I do.
“What can I get you?” she asks, walking over.
“Your phone number,” pops out of my mouth before I can think.
She blinks at me, unimpressed. “My friend, if I had a nickel for every time someone used that line, I wouldn’t be working anymore.”
I tip my head back in laughter, happy she’s unphased by the cheesy line that escaped me. What a dick move on my part.
“I’m sorry, that was so cheesy of me, it just popped out,” I say, still chuckling.
She smirks at me and shrugs. “All good. What can I get you?”
“Draft seasonal beer?”
“Comin’ right up.” She walks away to pour my beer.
I’m impressed by her pour, but I suppose I shouldn’t be since she’s doing this for work. I have had bartenders fuck up the pour, so it’s a thing.
“Thanks….” I trail off, hoping she’ll provide her name.
“You’re welcome,” she says, the playful smirk back in place.
She knows I was going for her name and refuses to play. Well. Color me hooked. I’m aware that’s not really a phrase, but I’m making it one now.
I watch her serve a couple of other customers before I flag her down again.
“Looks like you’re not done yet,” she comments on my mostly full beer.
“I know. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Most guys aren’t so straightforward about it.”
“I like games, but not that kind. Can I get your name?” I ask her, going for a direct approach this time.
She eyes me up and down as her brain works. Glancing toward the other side of the bar, she seems to make up her mind and unintentionally pins me with her eyes again.
“Rory,” she tells me.
“Hi Rory.”
She smiles. “What’s yours? I mean, I could just find it off your credit card when you pay, but if you pay cash, then I’m out of luck. Plus, it feels imbalanced that you know mine, but I don’t know yours.”
“Of course!” I smile with as much charm as I can muster. “I’m Wes.”
A smile tugs at her mouth. I can see her battling with something internally as she looks at me and processes my name.
“What?” I ask her, a small smile starting in response to hers.
“Wes?”
“Yeah?”
“You have red hair.”
“Yup.”
“Ever watched Nailed It! before?”.
“Oh, no…” I can see where she’s going with this.
“WHES!” she calls out, an almost perfect imitation of Nicole Byers.
She starts cackling in delight as I chuckle softly. Thankfully, the noise doesn’t draw a crowd. I don’t mind being the butt of a joke. Everyone’s the butt at some point, and I’m happy to have an inside joke with her.
“Oh, man, I love that you went there,” I tell her, still chuckling.
“Yeah?” She looks a little unsure, even through her smile.
“I enjoy a woman who knows how to banter.”
“I’m glad. Not everyone appreciates it,” she says, sobering and glancing at the end of the bar again.
My eyes follow her to see a man sitting, his eyes locked on her. He’s built well enough, but not huge. His head is shaved bare, and he has a neat goatee framing his mouth. I make a mental note to keep an eye on him. He looks like trouble even though he’s put together well.
“So, tell me something about you.”
“Let me fill this order, Whes , while I think of something to tell you.”
“Will that always be how you say my name?” I call after her as she takes a few steps away.
“Depends on how long I know you,” she replies cheekily, and starts making more drinks for the order that has just come in.
As she works, I take the opportunity to look my fill at her body. She’s tall, not over six feet, but definitely tall. Her brown hair lands between her shoulder blades, braided back away from her face. Her body is full, her breasts and hips evenly matched. Breasts might be slightly smaller than I’ve preferred in the past, but they look perfect on her.
Her shoulders are slightly bent, like she’s worn down. I find myself drawn to that, wanting to find out why she’s worn down and how to make it better. She has a light and a mischief to her I want to see brought out all the time. All the time? Not sure where that came from. Is she the one that we need? Maybe. I’ll drag Kyle back here sometime and see if we can catch her working.
“Busy night?” I ask her as she comes back over to my side of the bar.
“It’s been worse.” She grabs another patron’s glass to replenish. “What do you do for work?” she asks before collecting another patron’s bill.
“Construction,” I answer when she’s back from cashing them out.
“What kind?”
“Buildings. My company puts up new buildings and does repairs.”
“So you’re not part of the road construction crews that everyone hates?”
“No way. They get paid well, but that shit’s dangerous and everyone hates road construction,” I say with a chuckle at the end.
She’s finally stopped moving momentarily and she leans a hip against her side of the bar. “Dangerous?”
“Yeah, working on the road like that with people flying by at high speed. Workers can get hit and die. That’s why the fines are so high,” I explain to her.
“Damn,” she says softly. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a good reminder for me to pay attention then. Not that I drive distracted, but even so.”
I nod. “I know it’s appreciated by the road crews when people follow those signs. I have a couple buddies who work on the road.”
She smiles at me, and I can see it’s genuine. Her eyes crinkle on the outside edges and her nose does too, ever so slightly near the inside of her eyes. My answering smile is big, pleased at seeing her genuine smile.
A few coworkers slap me on the back to say goodbye, and I realize I essentially ditched them to talk with Rory. I wave at them, and plan to apologize to them tomorrow for the unintentional abandonment.
I glance at my watch and see it’s almost 7 p.m., probably time for me to vacate as well. I sigh and down the rest of my beer while Rory is occupied. When she turns back, I give her an apologetic smile.
“Just realized the time. Okay if I cash out? I had one beer at our table and this.”
“Yeah sure, didn’t realize we’d been chatting that long,” Rory replies as she pulls up my tab.
“Time goes fast with a gorgeous woman to talk to.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“Oh I don’t know about that, Whes , but I do know good company makes time fly,” she counters.
I sign my part of the slip. “Do you work most weekends?” I ask and hold my hands up, palms out. “I know, sounds creepy, but I really enjoyed chatting with you. Hopefully, I can catch you again.”
She eyes me up and down, assessing me. Rory glances toward the same spot as before, but fixes her eyes back on me. “I’m here most weekends, WHES, so maybe I’ll see you around,” she finally tells me.
I take another glance at baldie, and sure enough, he’s focused on Rory, with a cursory glance at me. Deciding it would be better to go, I knock twice on the counter before stepping away.
“See you soon, I hope,” I tell her as I walk away, adding a wink as I go.
She smiles and flushes slightly before giving a slight wave and turning back to her work. As I make my way to my car, my mind keeps going back to those green eyes. They pull you in so easily, and I find I don’t want to leave them. Maybe I found our girl, even if she’s not the gym girl. With warmth in my chest, I head home to tell Kyle about tonight.