Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The Pinkie
With the passing of the new year, I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the weather up here, but today, the cold doesn’t reach my bones on my way to work. As a kid, I was never aware of where we lived state-wise, but judging from the cold, it was always south— much farther south.
When I get to the bar, I catch my reflection in the mirrored liquor-filled wall.
My porcelain skin mourns the sun, with my freckles turning to shadows of their former glory.
These Fridays roll around so quickly, and I guess I should be grateful I’ve been busy enough for time to fly, but it’s concerning as well.
This is Sasha’s last month before she must choose a husband, and with the threat of her absence, I realise how stupidly close to her I’ve let myself get.
What will I do when she leaves? With Kelly and Tanya remaining elusive, I might as well be alone in that apartment.
Like a pair of mythical beings, there have been no sightings, only the sound of closing doors when they clatter to the bathroom.
Today, Sasha and I have skipped our morning talk as she meets her final suitor from the Unity Index. She left her favourite for last. He is set to spend the day trying to win her favour, and I can only hope he meets her fantastical expectations.
My brows press as I watch the clock behind the counter, since Joey has yet to show, and with each glance, I’m growing more concerned. When the clock strikes eleven, he has missed opening, and Smith saunters through for his morning beverage.
I try to iron out the scrunch of my brow as I pop the lid from his bottle. “Hey, have you heard from Joey?”
“No. Shall I ring Donnie?”
“No, no. He might be running late. Donnie doesn’t need to know.”
The customers arrive regardless, and I begin alone, whipping through the crowd that closes around the counter. They have grown comfortable with me and Joey’s usual pace, serving in synchronised movements, but a few customers check their watches, with eye-rolls aplenty.
There’s a constriction in my chest, pulsing tighter with the passing time.
I can only imagine the worst. He’s hurt in his brother’s workshop?
Rangers have randomly attacked him? He’s left?
I repeatedly glance at the cameras, hoping Donnie doesn’t find out he’s late.
He doesn’t sit and watch the cameras like a live feed, but if he were to review footage, then Joey might be reprimanded.
My worry grows with each passing minute.
Seventeen, twenty-nine, forty-six minutes pass—and then, from behind the crowd, he appears, panting, his hair tied up in a bun and a few missed strands sticking to his reddened face.
“Lee!” he says with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry… I was—”
“Are you okay?!” I grab his arms with unfiltered concern while seeing him flustered, his fingers blackened with oil. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Let me help.” He serves with his backpack still on, and the rush hour clears more efficiently now that he’s here. As the bar calms, I dampen a dishtowel, bringing it to his flushed, oil-streaked face, catching along the slight shadow of his stubble with each swipe.
He babbles, still flapping like we’re busy. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get away. I was tinkering under a truck, and ugh, and it all went wrong! Where do you need me?”
My smile is released with the draining of tension. “Joey, it’s fine. I covered for you. Go get cleaned up and chill out.”
A relieved sigh reveals his soft smile, and his fingers tuck loosened strands of hair behind his ears before he disappears into the back room.
While he’s gone, I clear up the counter area, the circular sweeps of the dishcloth turning more aggressive with my growing frustration at how reliant I am on him.
I can work alone—yes, it was a little busier today—but I was foolishly worrying about him not turning up, with a dependence on his presence, an unwanted need to have him be a part of my day.
I don’t like how his absence made me feel.
A sinking in my gut. A film of sweat on my brow.
A tightness to my chest. It’s tough enough knowing I’ll have to say goodbye to Sasha, and now I’ve got the fear of leaving Joey behind.
What if he takes on tinkering full-time?
What if he goes to start up his business?
What if Krick moves me or him? It bothers me how much it bothers me.
With the passing surge of customers, we filter into the evening segment of the shift, where we get to rest in our spots against the back of the counter. He’s been trying to talk to me, but I keep missing his questions. It stalls our conversations as I struggle to return to our regular rhythm.
He says, “Dude, you’re pissed at me, aren’t you?”
“No!” I say with a tone of surprise. I try to press a headache away, tracing my finger over the arc of my forehead. “No, Joey. Sorry. I’m in my head.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know. With Sasha leaving, it’s got me thinking… You know, if you’re planning on leaving, you’ve got to give me some warning,” I say—with immediate regret, cringing at how sentimental it makes me sound.
He plants his hand on his chest, mocking flattery. “You’d miss me if I left? I thought I was annoying.”
“I didn’t say you aren’t annoying. But yes. I would miss you.” I blush, tapping my boot against his.
“Well, don’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.
I actually never stop thinking about how you’ll leave.
” I’m surprised at how the admission sends my heart jittering, and he returns a tap of his boot against mine.
“How I’ll have to wave you off while some random dude takes you away?
What am I going to do without you, huh?”
“We don’t need to think about that.”
“But I do,” he says with a snap of frustration, and I look up from under my brow while he picks at the oil-stained calluses of his palm, calming his voice.
“I do. I worry about it. Sure, there are plenty of good men out there, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Some women deserve a good man—but not you.
Not my Lee. You deserve a fucking hero,” he says coolly, crossing his arms, while unaware of how profound his words are.
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking a gulp as my eyes threaten to flood—from the comment, and from the idea of leaving. “Thank you, Joey.”
There’s a noticeable discomfort, and I’m sure he spots the tightness of my jaw as I hold back tears, so he changes the subject and has me laughing minutes later.
We stand side by side, idly chatting, when a boy band music video comes on, and Joey faintly mirrors the dance moves on the TV, while failing to hit the marks.
He’s trying to entice another laugh from me as he mimes by my side.
His comical facial expressions are enough to tease a smile from me, but I can’t bear watching him butcher the dance routine.
So, I interject, “No. It’s stomp, twist, slide left, slide right, finger point, click.
” I demonstrate it after seeing this music video daily, and I’m not ashamed to know the full routine.
Together, we unabashedly perform the full dance before the patrons while the rest of the song plays out.
Those approaching the bar don’t dare to ask for a drink while we smash a perfect routine, with Joey pointing and singing at the men stood waiting.
One drunk customer even claps along, whooping and cheering.
When we finish, we are treated to a round of applause, and we jokingly lap it up, basking in our glory with bows and curtsies.
They must think we’re crazy, but I don’t care.
We’re here to make people smile, and I might as well be having fun myself before my grim future approaches.
I’m going to need some happy memories to look back on if I’m to commit to a wealthy, power-mad stranger.
My mood has lifted since this morning, but it elevates further when Sasha steps into the bar with a dark, chisel-chinned gentleman following close behind.
She turns heads with her arrival. A woman being toured around the city is a rarity, since they’re usually working or locked up at home.
I purse my lips, trying not to get overexcited at her arrival.
“Heyyyyyy!” we say in unison.
“Nice to see you, Sasha. How’s your day going?” I ask, trying to mute my smile.
She leans over the bar and whispers, “It is going very, very well.” She stands back with a wink. “Lee, I’d like to introduce you to Forest. Forest, this is my roommate Lee.”
My lips press tight, but my cheeks lift, exposing how excited I am for her.
“Nice to meet you, Lee,” he says, flashing a charming smile with a deep, smooth voice.
I prepare them both a drink, and he grabs a table while Sasha hangs back and asks, “What do you think?”
“It’s not about what I think. What do you think?”
“Besides him being fabulously handsome—”
“Disgustingly handsome,” Joey says while pouring a drink, making us laugh.
“He’s been so sweet. He brought photos of the dog and his apartment and said I can have my own room while we get to know each other. He sounds … great.”
She squeezes my hands, grinning wildly. To think how broken she was when she got this binder… The Unity Index can work out for some people, I guess? This could be her happily-ever-after … or that could be the lie I tell myself?
She raises her brows, tilting her sights past me. “So, you must be Joey. I want to say thank you for looking after Lee. She’s been my hero since she got here.”
“No thank you required,” he says, “She’s been looking after me.”
I shake my head at them, whipping Joey with the dishtowel as Sasha joins Forest at his table, unable to contain my grin as they laugh together.