Chapter 7
Rory
On the one hand, being a favorite bartender kept the money flowing in. On the other hand, it also means I get some pretty heavy hours. It’s an early shift today and I’m at the bar around 2 p.m. to start my shift. It’s slow at first, which lets me ease into things. Thankfully, it’s not a bad brain day, but I pace myself so I don’t use up all my energy at the start of my shift.
We have a few people lingering between lunch and dinner, and our Thursday happy hour starts in an hour, so I take time to check our stock. Noting what’s low and what’s out, I then document the information and pull out some garnish to start prepping for the rest of the night.
The first hour of Happy Hour is smooth. A few people trickling in and a work group settled nearby at a larger table. The orders are coming in steadily and it’s nice to keep my hands busy. Tim comes in and I realize that I’m almost two hours into my shift and didn’t notice.
“What’s up, loser?” he asks, a smile on his face.
“Holding the fort down for your lazy ass,” I quip back.
We both chuckle and I update him on what’s been going on so far. Nothing out of the ordinary, thankfully.
“Your regular not here yet?” he asks.
I glance down toward the spot and find his seat empty. “No,” I tell him, relief flooding my veins.
“Is he causing you trouble?” Tim asks.
“No.”
“You gonna tell me if he does?”
“Maybe,” I say, looking at him with a smirk.
Tim frowns at me. “He’s bad news, and the fact that we don’t know why he keeps coming back is concerning. Don’t fuck around with this, okay?”
I know exactly why he comes here, but I’m not sharing that knowledge. He hasn’t done anything yet and all it will do is cause a scene if I explain it to my coworkers and boss. Better to just leave it for now. I turn and put my hand on my hip, feigning confidence I don’t have.
“Okay, Tim, I’ll let you know if it’s a problem. Is that good?”
“Good enough, I guess,” he concedes. There’s a long pause before he keeps going. “You know, I know we don’t ever see each other outside of work, but I do consider you kind of a sister so you can always tell me if you need something, yeah?”
My eyes sting with tears, and I blink them back, taking a deep breath. I look at him with a genuine smile. “Thanks Tim. I’m glad I have you.”
He nudges my shoulder with his. “Now get to work, these emotions are gross.”
I throw my head back, laughing, and get back to filling orders from the system that have picked up as we get close to the end of Happy Hour. Everyone is trying to squeeze in their cheap drinks. I glance over and realize he’s here, and Tim already gave him a drink.
Shit. I was hoping he wouldn’t show up tonight.
Tim looks at me with meaning, making sure I’m doing okay, and I give him a nod. His drink finishes quickly, and I note that Tim is swamped taking orders from newcomers sitting at the bar, so I decide to bite the bullet and give him a refill. I take a steadying breath before heading his way to see which beer he was drinking tonight.
“Refill?” I ask him.
“What? No ‘hello’ for me?” he responds, his smooth voice crawling over my skin.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
He gives me his drink order and I refill the beer for him, setting it down before reaching for his old glass. Before I know what’s happening, he grabs my wrist, his fingers biting into my skin. The contact throws my mind back.
I trip on the sidewalk, quickly righting myself after landing on a knee. I’m trying to keep up with him, his hand gripping my wrist as he storms his way to the car. My knee is stinging from my brief meeting with the sidewalk. The anger rolling off him is palpable and I’m wracking my brain, trying to remember what I did to cause this. I obviously did the wrong thing, but what was it this time?
“Would you keep up?” he snarls at me.
“I’m trying,” I gasp.
He stops suddenly, and I know I’ve done it this time. Shouldn’t have talked back. Fuck.
“Do you think I enjoy this?” he questions me, his face a cold mask of anger.
“N-No of course not,” I tell him.
“You know why this is happening?”
“Yes,” I tell him quietly.
“You know this is your fault, right?” I know he doesn’t want an answer, so I keep quiet. He drives his point home. “If you didn’t act so ridiculous in public, I wouldn’t have to do this.”
I debate if I should say anything, and his hand tightens on my wrist. I can feel my wrist being crushed but say nothing. I brought this on myself. I’ll take the consequences.
“Next time you think you know what I want, just remember that you don’t. You don’t speak for me, and you don’t speak for you. You don’t speak.”
I nod quickly. I remember now. I tried to correct the waiter when he repeated the order wrong. I know he doesn’t drink diet, and I didn’t want him to get the wrong thing. Next time I’ll just let the waiter repeat the order wrong. I shouldn’t have stepped in; I should just sit and be quiet like he told me.
My eyes are on the ground, but I can feel the tears pricking the back of my eyes. I’m determined to not cry. I don’t want to make it worse. Despite my best efforts, I feel one escape and he sighs at the sight, like I’ve disappointed him.
“E, I wouldn’t be so hard on you if you just stopped doing stupid things, you know that right?” he says, gently.
I nod, afraid to use my voice. He pulls me into him, a semblance of a hug, and holds me there briefly. He rubs my back tenderly and I feel my muscles relax a bit. This is the version of him I like, when he shows me how much he really does love me.
“Just do better and this won’t happen, okay?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask him. In my head I sound tough, but I’m pretty sure my words come across shaky.
“We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you. We are done.”
“No, we’re not. I’m giving you time and space, but you are mine.”
“You need to let go, Nathan, before I start yelling,” I warn him.
“Look, you need to know that I’ve never given up on us. We are end game and I promise I’m here for you. I want us to be together.”
“No, we’re done. I don’t understand how to get this through your head. Stop coming here, stop staring at me, just stop!” I hiss at him and yank my arm away.
“Poor E, thinking you can walk away from me. Without me, you’re nothing,” he says lowly, ensuring I’m the only one who hears it.
It takes everything I have to not trip as I walk away. His words haunt me, and it takes more than I thought I had in me to focus and not get sucked into a memory. I didn’t realize he wants me back that badly, and it’s shaken me. Turning to the bar patrons, I see a gorgeous woman waiting patiently. Her long black hair is piled on her head and her piercing blue eyes exude friendliness.
“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask her.
“Hey, I uh, I would like a mojito please.”
“No problem,” I tell her, and gather the ingredients to get mixing.
“I do have a question,” she says a little softly, so I lean in to try to hear better.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Was that guy bothering you?”
“Oh, uh, no, it’s fine,” I tell her quickly.
She looks steadily at me, and I can see the disbelief on her face. I go out of my way to avoid eye contact; it’s like she can see through me. Has she been where I am? Trapped by an abusive ex who isn’t truly gone?
“If you need anything, and I’m here, never hesitate to ask. Like, I know you don’t know me, but I saw him grab you, then your face got all pale, and that’s not cool.”
I smile at her genuine offer, my heart feeling warmed. “Thanks, but I’ve got backup. My boss is never far, and Tim’s got my back. I feel like I’ve seen you before. Do you come here often?” I ask her.
“You hittin’ on me?” she asks, mirth in her eyes.
I realize what I said and start laughing as I pour her drink into a class, adding a sprig of mint. She laughs softly along with me, putting me more at ease.
“Well, you’re a good lookin’ girl, but I prefer hot dogs to tacos,” I tell her.
She throws her head back, laughing hard. “Yeah, friends and I come around a lot. They’d definitely like you.”
“My name’s Rory,” I tell her on a whim.
“Morgan,” she says, grinning.
“Well, Morgan, I’m here every weekend. It would be fun to see you once in a while.”
“For sure! I know a few girls who would love you,” she says, smiling widely.
“You this friendly with all your bartenders?” I ask her, smirking.
She laughs. “Only the cool ones who hit on me.”
This time she catches me off guard, and I laugh loudly. I’m not great with people I don’t know well. Today’s a decent brain day, but the bad ones always drive people off, so I gave up on friends a while ago. Might be nice to meet a few people who only expect me to sling drinks. I can handle that kind of friendship, no messy ties or feelings.
Even before Nathan, I didn’t keep friends long, and Nathan made sure to chase away any remaining friends I had. Nobody wants to be around a depressed chick, and why fight for her time when she clearly won’t give it to anyone? No, better to bail. My heart aches, wishing I did have some friends, and I hope I can at least count Morgan and her friends as people I can talk to at work.
I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I turn to get the next drink ticket that comes in. He’s still watching me. Steeling myself, I decide I’m not going to give in and look. Nope, I’m gonna keep doing my thing . H e doesn’t need my attention. My brain doesn’t get the memo, though, and I end up glancing over to see his angry eyes boring into me. Why can’t he just stop?