10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Sam
I hate this day. It’s stupid and a giant marketing scam to make us dish out more money. No, I am not bitter and alone. Plus, I actually have found myself looking forward to the cooking class, but we skipped this week so everyone can celebrate the fake holiday. And I was especially looking forward to it after last night’s shit show. First thing I did this morning was submit my application to Social Services for a name change. I’ve got an appointment next week, but even that feels too far away. Only a few more days of being the stain on the Reynolds family name.
The wind bites at my face as I put my head down and pick up my pace. There's only one place I would spend Valentine’s Day: Gertie’s bar. While my stand-in grandma passed a few months back, her grandson, Theo, took over the bar and works most days. He somehow wormed himself into my life and is now one of my closest friends.
Dragging the door open, I shake the cold off and move to the bar. It's an old-fashioned dive bar, with pool in the back, a few booths next to the bar, and a dance floor. Nothing fancy; just good beer and good company.
“What’s up, brother? No class today?” Theo smiles as he carries a case of beer to the front.
“No class for the holiday. Apparently, just because I think it’s stupid doesn’t mean the couples in the class won’t want to celebrate. Anyways, I wound up here.” I shrug.
Setting the beer down on the bar next to the freshly washed glasses, he pipes in, “Figured you’d stroll in sooner or later. You ever going to stop being an unapproachable ass, so you can find yourself a girlfriend and quit hanging around?”
“I don't need a girlfriend. And if you’d like, I’d be happy to take my business elsewhere.” I pretend to turn around, but we both know the threat is empty.
“You may not need a girlfriend, but you do need to get laid. It would probably help remove that giant stick up your ass.” He laughs at his own joke, which I’d like to say isn’t a normal occurrence, but no one thinks Theo is funnier than Theo himself.
Never mind about this being my go-to spot; I hate it here.
“Yeah, Theo, I’m going to need you to fuck off, and while you’re at it, grab me my beer.” I finally make my way to my stool, which scrapes as I slide it across the floor to sit.
Between the stress of teaching that stupid class—which isn’t as stupid as I thought, but I refuse to admit otherwise aloud—and the usual family bullshit, I need a beer. And probably to get laid. It’s been longer than I want to admit. What has it been, six months? A year?
Could I get laid? Yes. Linsey from work has made it abundantly clear she would like to have some extra time with me. One, I don’t mix work and pleasure. Two, she’s a level-five clinger, and I would have literally nowhere to hide from her. It wouldn’t matter if I told her I didn’t see anything between us, that woman must be a medium because she sees things no one else does. In cooking terms, we would be oil and water. We do not mix.
Theo pours my beer and slides it across the bar top. “Anything new and exciting going on?”
“Pretty much the usual. My boss is making my life hell, and my dad is still a raging asshole.” I sigh and take a drink, and then another. And another.
“Still hasn’t come around to you not wanting to be a corporate bunny, eh?”
“Nope, he continues to beat the dead horse.”
“Who’s beating a horse?” A familiar voice floats through the bar.
Well, great. I can’t run from this shit literally anywhere.
Looking from Addie and then back over to me, Theo says, “Haven’t seen you around here before. Judging by grumpy pants over here, you two must know each other?” Theo nods toward me as he asks.
“Oh, yes, Prince Charming over here loves when I rain on his parade simply by existing in the same place as him.” She puts on a bland smile and pinches her face in my direction.
“Anyone that can ruffle his feathers this easily gets a drink on me.” His grin broadens, as if he just found another tool to add to his arsenal of ways to irritate me.
“You mean to tell me there are times his feathers aren’t ruffled?” She gives me a shocked look and brings her hand to her chest to add to the theatrics.
“Add her drinks to my tab. Can’t have her thinking I'm the devil incarnate.” Why am I offering to buy her drinks?
“So, that was quite some family dinner yesterday. Are they always that, um… How do I say this?” She tilts her head to the side and tries to find what I can only assume is the least offensive word.
“Awful? For me, yes. You might have a different experience if you come on a day I am,” I make air quotes with my fingers, “"working’ and not there. Though, he probably just won’t talk then. Unless it’s to Cal about work.”
“So, your dad is only a raging jackass to you? Or does he just have a permascowl, like someone else I know?” She gives me a pointed look with a raised brow.
Shit. I’m not as bad as my old man, am I? To normal people, no. But I guess I lumped her in with Isla, who got lumped in with Cal, and Cal is up Dad’s ass last time I checked. So, in my book, they’re all against me.
“In case you didn’t notice, I am the family's disappointment. So, no. Neither he nor I have a permascowl, whatever that means. We just don’t get along.”
“Ah, so, that's why you blew off your sister's wedding and never showed up.” The judgment in her tone is hard to miss.
I don’t have the nerve or humility to admit to her that I couldn’t afford the trip at the time. I’d just recently got a raise that has me living more comfortably. Two weeks in Hawaii isn’t exactly a cheap vacation. And for obvious reasons, I refuse to take help from my family. So, I took the L and chose to look like a total jackass, all because I was too prideful to ask for help.
Unfortunately, missing Liv’s big day will always be a regret of mine. But I just can’t stand the thought of giving my dad the pleasure of me crawling to him and asking for a handout.
“Something like that,” is what I settle for in lieu of the truth. Putting my head down, I find the regret and shame can still be hard to shake off.
“Well, for what it’s worth, he's an idiot. If you cook anything like Cal, you’re probably doing well for yourself.”
I scoff at her response, but a little piece of me finds pleasure that other people can see through my dad’s shit.
“Cal wishes he could cook like me.” Wanting to turn the conversation to a place that doesn’t make me feel rage or guilt, I ask her, “What brings you in tonight, shortcake?”
Theo drops her drink off, winks at me, and walks off. What was that for?
“Shortcake?”
“Yeah, you’re short and you’ve got red hair. The nickname was made for you. You’ve got a nickname for me, it’s only fair you get one, too.
“You don’t have a nickname?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve referred to me as Prince Charming more than once.”
“Yeah, I meant that as an insult, since you walk around acting all entitled and pretentious and shit.” She waves her hand in the air, trying to get out the right words.
“I do not act like that.”
Theo reappears just in time to answer in unison with Addie: “Yes, you do.”
“Maybe your name is supposed to be an insult, too.” Well, maybe I am grumpy outside of work, too. Theo replaces my beer with a new one. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” Whatever happened to bros first?
“Sorry, brother, I only side with the truth.” Theo shrugs as I shoot him daggers. Some friend. Addie, of course, finds him hilarious, and her laughter lights up the place.
“You never answered my question, by the way.” I look at Addie.
“Oh, yeah. Well, Isla and Cal are doing Valentine’s Day night in. Apparently, it is their thing. And staying in with a couple who are just waiting for the right moment to rip each other’s clothes off harshly reminds you of exactly how single you are. So, I decided to make myself scarce. Possibly not come home ‘til the sun comes up, just to be safe.”
I can’t help but laugh. Isla and Cal are the type of disgusting in love, and I hate it. I can’t imagine having to live with that.
“You laugh, but if you see me on a park bench in the morning, check in to make sure I don’t have frostbite.” She takes a hearty sip of her beer and settles into the stool.
A chuckle finds its way out of me from her dramatics. “What made you take a job with Tyler?”
“After an unfortunate turn of events, it was looking like my only option. And starting over wasn’t sounding so bad, either.” She heaves out a big sigh before chugging more of her beer.
I fail to hide the shock from my face. “Yeah, I’m going to need you to elaborate.”
“Well, I got laid off—or fired, depending on who you ask—and was having a hard time finding a new job. Then, my roommate and her boyfriend wanted to move in together. They asked me to move out, making me homeless. Since I had nothing really left going for me in Colorado, it seemed like a good time to dip, dip potato chip right of out there.”
What the fuck is dip, dip potato chip? Where does she come up with this shit?
“I see.”
“And my sister is pregnant, and everyone around me is getting married and having babies, and the only thing I can do effectively is avoid commitment by choosing complete and total asshats. So, the only thing I could do to mix up my life and feel even relatively successful is leave.” She then chugs the rest of her beer and buries her face in her hands.
I’m not going to lie, I have the emotional intelligence of a grapefruit. I have no idea how to comfort people, and I feel like this chick is two seconds away from crying. So, I need to muster up some words or I’m going to be a human tissue.
“Life isn’t a race, and there is no line to determine whether or not you're winning or unsuccessful. Everyone is different. Look at me with my family. Chase your happy and fuck the rest. It’ll figure itself out.”
She raises her head up and sends me a small smile. It’s a heavy smile, like it’s taking all her willpower to put it there, but it’s there, nonetheless.
“Thanks, Sam. That was very overshare-y of me. I’m sorry.”
“You had to sit through my family dinner, which was made uncomfortable at my own expense. It’s only fair you make me uncomfortable back.” I smile, hoping she catches on that it’s a joke. When her fist meets my arm, I can’t help but laugh.
“Want to see who can chug a beer faster?” she asks.
“Bring it, shortcake.” I want so badly to be annoyed by her, but something about her draws me in and holds me there.
Somehow, this miserable, useless holiday isn’t the worst ever. And it just might be because of the little piece of sunshine next to me. Not that I will ever tell her I find her more tolerable than most people. It’s better that way.