3. Jay
CHAPTER 3
JAY
I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face. I know Violet is the reason for it. Part of me is sure that I must have imagined what happened between us, but when I arrive at the bar at eleven a.m., the table and chairs where I laid her down are still out of place. I straighten them, grinning the whole time.
It’s only an hour later when I realize that I gave Violet my number, but she didn’t give me hers. Everything is in her hands because she has my number and knows where I work, whereas I know nothing about where she’s staying or how to get in touch with her.
I don’t even know why she’s back in town.
I imagine asking my sister if I can have her high school best friend’s phone number so I can feel her up again. Yeah, not a good idea. I don’t know what Hannah would think about the fact that Violet and I slept together… and that I’m still thinking about it. But I’ve never cared about getting my little sister’s approval, and I’m not about to start right now.
Just as the bar is starting to open up, and my early afternoon server comes in, I get a text from an unknown number. I hear my phone buzz, but don’t check it for a good ten minutes as I get some fries going for the customers who pretend they came here to eat a meal.
When I do check to see why my phone vibrated, I suck in my breath as I read the simple message over two times.
This is Violet. Do you have a minute to talk?
My mind jumps to all sorts of reasons that she could want to talk to me after last night. The first reason that pops into my head is that she has some sort of STD, and she figures I should know. But wouldn’t she have known that last night?
She would have told me before I stuck myself in her without a rubber. I’m confident about that, but not enough to dispel the worry completely. Maybe she just wants to get laid again and doesn’t realize that being the owner of The Rusty Oak means that I work more than the average Joe.
I set my phone on the counter and check on the fries as they sizzle in the bubbling grease. The salty smell makes my mouth water.
Then, I attend to my two customers to see if they need anything before turning back to my phone.
Finally, after what feels like a long time, but has only actually been six minutes, I tap out a reply.
Me
What about?
Violet
A job.
I blow air out after reading her short response. None of the flirtatiousness and cute banter is there from last night. I wonder if she is one of those people who just doesn’t text a lot or if she was putting on some sort of front last night. Maybe it had been a while since she had gotten laid, and she was desperate.
I think about Violet and her red hair bouncing around The Rusty Oak, greeting customers that I know by name as though they are newbies. I don’t know what sort of resume she has or if she even knows the difference between basic IPAs.
The idea of Violet working here intrigues me, and I can't deny that the thought of having her around more often is appealing. But I need to be professional about this. I can’t hire all the women I’ve fucked, it could create a hostile working environment for myself.
The mental picture of various girlfriends and one-night stands I’ve had throughout my life grabbing forks and coming after me makes me laugh.
“You okay?” Harold, one of my regulars, asks.
“Just laughing at the way life has treated me,” I tell him.
I finally type out a response to Violet.
Me
Sure. Come by this afternoon around four. We can talk about it.
Violet
See you soon.
I set my phone down and focus on the bar, trying to keep my excitement in check. Despite the fact that I don’t know how I feel about having Violet work here, I also know that I’m excited to see her again. I wonder what she’ll be wearing today and if it will give me as good a view of her cleavage as yesterday’s dress did.
As it gets closer to four, I find myself jerking around to see the door every time the little bell jingles. When Violet finally walks in, I feel more nervous than I’ve felt in a while. What is it about this woman that makes me feel so antsy?
Violet strides into the bar with the same confidence she had last night, her red hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with determination. She’s dressed casually, in dark jeans and an emerald green shirt that complements her eyes. I wonder if she knows how stunning she looks in a simple shirt and jeans.
I force myself to stop gawking at her and swipe at the counter in an attempt to look busy as she approaches the other side of it.
"Hey, Jay," she greets me with a warm smile.
"Hey, Violet. Glad you could make it. Let’s talk about the job.” I motion for her to join me behind the bar.
Maybe it’s just me, but I feel the tiniest bit awkward as Violet pushes through the half-door in the side of the bar and comes to stand next to me. Is she thinking about how she begged me to make her come? Is she thinking about how she gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned white as her back arched?
Harold winks at me, but I ignore his matchmaking attempts.
I tap Candy, one of the cocktail waitresses on the arm. “Take over the bar area for a few minutes. I’m going to be busy.” Candy glances at Violet, then at me like she wants to ask what I’m going to be doing to keep myself so busy, but she just nods and accepts her temporary role behind the bar.
Violet follows me wordlessly, and I start by giving her a brief tour of The Rusty Oak. "So, this is the main bar area. We get a pretty mixed crowd, especially on weekends. Over there are the private tables, and we also have a small stage for live music."
Violet’s eyes sparkle as she says, "I do have eyes, you know. Do you want to point out the bathrooms too?"
“Well, I don’t need you complaining to the Bureau of Labor that I don’t have proper facilities.” I point dramatically in the direction of the bathrooms. “Bathrooms.”
Violet laughs, and I love the way she covers her nose and mouth as though it would hold her laughter back.
"Now, if you’re ready to really get started, let’s go over what the job would entail."
I walk her through the various tasks—taking orders, mixing drinks, handling the register, and making sure the customers are happy. We go back into the kitchen, and I briefly show her how to work the different appliances.
Violet listens intently, asking questions here and there, and I can see she’s genuinely interested. That makes me feel better about the whole situation.
Finally, I lean against the bar, only one seat down from where Violet was sitting last night. If Violet is really going to work here, then I’m going to have to control where my mind goes every time I look at her. I allow myself one more jog down memory lane as I remember kissing Violet across the bar.
"So, how do you feel about all this?" I ask.
"I feel good. I can handle it. I’ve worked in bars before, and I know my way around a busy night."
"That’s good to hear . We’re a pretty tight-knit team here, so I need to make sure you’re up for it."
She steps closer, her expression serious. "I’m up for it, Jay. I can do this." There are only a few inches of space between us now, and all I want is to close the space with a kiss, my hands on Violet’s hips, but… I can’t.
Last night, she was flirting and practically begging me to kiss her. Today is a different story. She is serious and focused on the job. I have to respect that.
I nod, appreciating her confidence. “I have to ask, I don’t want it to seem like I’m prying—but, you said you were just coming into town to take care of a few things. Why get a job?”
Violet sighs and looks away. A shadow of a deeper emotion crosses over her face. “I’m going to be here for a couple of months at least. I need to have some sort of income while I’m here, and after last night… I figured maybe you could use another cocktail waitress. So, I appreciate you giving me a chance. When should I start?”
I want to ask Violet more questions about the emotion I briefly saw on her face, about why she needs to be here, but everyone deserves their privacy. I let it go.
“Friday night? Can you work five ‘til close?”
“Sure, I’ll see you then.”
We both stand there for another moment. I’m not ready for the conversation to be over, but I can tell that Violet has other things to deal with. Finally, she lifts a hand in a little wave and heads toward the front door, her red hair flapping behind her.
I brush my hair back from my face so I can get a better view of the way her hips sway. Who is this version of Violet and what is the real reason she is back in town?