Chapter Eight
Harper could not believe—Could. Not. Fucking.
Believe—both Aiden and her other bartender, Em, had called out.
She called in one of her part-timers, but that still meant that she wasn’t going to get a break all night.
It wasn’t like the bar was huge, but it was big enough—and busy enough on a Saturday night—that she needed three people on.
She felt like she was running from end to end of the bar and wasn’t providing good enough service to anyone.
At least Belle had been able to come in despite closing last night.
And, fuck, she needed to let Franky out.
Normally, she’d be able to sneak out for a few minutes during a lull to take her for a quick walk around the block, but that was an impossibility tonight.
And to make matters even worse, a thunderstorm was brewing, and Franky hated them.
Though hate wasn’t a strong enough word.
If there was a word that implied hatred but also encompassed terrified of, angry at, and thinks she could be murdered by, that would better describe poor Franky’s feelings toward storms.
The door opened, and Charlie slipped into the bar and around the other jammed in patrons.
“Hey you,” Harper said to her as soon as she sat at the seat just vacated by a strange man in a Disney World hat who had been there for exactly an hour and a half and had ordered exactly two Miller Lites during that time period.
“Hi,” Charlie said.
“The cocktail gods must have been smiling down on you, as the man sitting here just left you this prime seat by the drawbridge.” She gestured to the flap where the bar lifted up to allow entry and access.
“I guess I’m winning, then,” she said. Her face looked a little tight, and Harper wondered if she wasn’t a huge fan of crowds.
“What can I get for you?” she said, hoping to lighten her mood.
“I’m not sure. I’m not really sure if I’m going to stay. I’m happy for your sake that you’re busy, but this”—she waved her hand in a half circle—“stresses me out a little. It’s not even food truck night.”
Harper chuckled. “Yeah, Saturdays are too busy for food trucks. And I’m short-staffed too.” She grimaced, but an idea popped to mind. “Hey, if this is too chaotic for you, is there any chance you could do me a massive favor?”
Charlie shrugged and raised her brows. “As long as you don’t want me to tend bar or serve drinks, sure. This isn’t my jam.”
Harper laughed. “While I could use the help, I actually have something a little more important I’m hoping you can assist with.”
Charlie grinned for the first time since sitting, and it was like the Florida sun was shining full force. Harper’s knees went a little rubbery at the sight as Charlie said, “Lay it on me.”
Harper crossed her fingers behind the bar.
“I can’t get away, and Franky needs a walk.
Also, there’s a thunderstorm coming in, and she’s terrified of thunder.
But it wasn’t in the forecast, so I didn’t prepare for it.
Would you be willing to take her on a quick walk and then when you get back, put her thunder shirt on and give her a trazodone? ”
Charlie pursed her lips. “I’ve never had a dog, but I’m sure I can handle it.”
Harper wanted to hug her as relief coursed through her body. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver!” She made two drinks for other patrons as she quickly went through the logistics of getting in her place and where everything was.
When Charlie moved to stand, however, Harper placed her hand on her arm and said, “Wait, let me send you with a drink since I’m stealing your evening.”
“I can’t walk with a drink, even if it’s just going around the building.” She looked scandalized at the idea of breaking the law, and Harper couldn’t help but laugh.
“I didn’t take you for such a rule follower, but just go through the back.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, surprise me.”
Harper didn’t know how to read Charlie’s expression but flashed her a grin, hoping to get one back.
She wasn’t disappointed as she grabbed her shaker and started muddling strawberries in the bottom before pouring bourbon, no simple syrup—she knew the fruit and ginger beer would be enough sweetness for Charlie—fresh lemon juice, bitters, and ice, popping the top and shaking it.
They didn’t talk as she made the drink. She’d already spent too much time focused on Charlie, given how busy the bar was.
Of late, Harper had found herself dawdling more and more while mixing for her as they’d become friendlier.
She chalked it up to their growing but superficial friendship.
Definitely nothing more. But tonight, she didn’t have time to chat more no matter how much she wanted to.
“Wow, that is…pink.” Charlie said as Harper strained the drink into the glass.
“What is it?” She was a little off-balance from the rule follower comment, but she’d have to unpack that later because Harper was staring at her, and the pink drink was distracting, especially after Harper finished it off with ginger beer.
At any other bar, she’d assume it would be sickly sweet, but Harper knew her too well for that.
“It’s called a Kentucky Buck. It’s kind of like a Kentucky Mule, but it has strawberry and lemon juice rather than a splash of lime. I would give most people, including myself, a bit of simple syrup, but I think that would be too sweet for you.”
“Well, you know, bitter soul, bitter drinks.” Charlie spoke without thinking and shrugged as she took the glass.
Harper touched her arm before she could bring the glass to her lips. “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, holding eye contact for an uncomfortable moment.
“It’s only because you didn’t know me before. I’m getting better here.” Charlie was shocked at her candidness. Especially when Harper had no time to talk. Then again, maybe that was why she was being so candid. There wasn’t time to ask questions.
“Well, you’re about to go take care of Franky so she isn’t too scared during the thunderstorm. There has to be a little sweetness in you.” She flashed the softest smile, and Charlie was captivated. “Now try your drink and tell me what you think so I can get back to work before this mob riots.”
Harper hadn’t been wrong. The drink was delicious, and as soon as Charlie said so, she headed upstairs, swirling Harper’s front door key around her finger.
It felt weird knowing she was about to walk into Harper’s place.
Sure, Harper had been in her unit a few times, but Charlie hadn’t made it a home.
It was just someplace she was living for a while. A waiting room.
When Charlie swung the door open to Harper’s apartment, she was startled to realize that it was fairly similar to hers.
Since Harper owned the building, Charlie had assumed she’d been there for at least a few years and had expected a homey feel.
Instead, the kitchen finishes were exactly the same, so she clearly hadn’t turned her place into anything special.
The clatter of Franky’s nails on the tile floor forced her to stop taking stock of the place.
She dropped to her knees. “Hey, Franky. How are you doing, sweetheart?” Franky pressed the side of her body into Charlie’s torso, and Charlie could feel her slight tremble.
“Aw, poor baby. Are you afraid of the thunder?”
Just then, a crack of thunder reverberated the unit, and it felt like the whole place shook. Franky started to shake violently, and she whined. “Harper wasn’t kidding, was she? Let’s see if we can find that medicine, huh?”
She rummaged around in the incredibly organized cabinets, feeling a little guilty, as though she was snooping, but being unable to remember which one Harper had said, she didn’t have a choice.
Finally, in the last upper cabinet, she found the small pill bottle and a bag of pill pocket treats.
“I’m not sure how long these take before you’ll feel the effect, but I think I should give you one now and then take you out, okay? ”
Franky was pressed against her leg again and didn’t respond, but Charlie was pretty confident of her decision.
With Franky leashed up and heading down the stairs, Charlie realized she wasn’t sure how far Harper normally took her, but with the ominous rumbling, she didn’t think they’d be going far, and she was right.
Franky seemed determined to take the shortest walk possible, if she could even call it that.
She sniffed around for approximately thirty seconds, peed, and was dragging Charlie back to the stairs, all without leaving the little gravel area behind the building.
Fine by Charlie. She didn’t want to get soaked. But just before she placed her foot on the first step, the skies opened up as though the heavens were trying to take Noah’s ark from dry dock to floating without a crane. “Motherfucker,” she said as she sprinted up the steps and into Harper’s house.
She knew it could have been worse, but the damn rain couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds? “Does Harper have a towel for you, girl?”
Franky, again, wasn’t helpful, but Charlie didn’t want to put her thunder coat thing on while she was wet, so she ventured farther into Harper’s personal space.
She was again struck by the lack of character.
It wasn’t like the place was ugly. She had nice enough furniture, but there weren’t any personal pictures or mementos.
It felt like…Charlie’s place. She laughed at herself for feeling a little judgmental when her place was colder than this. But it wasn’t about that. It was just strange. Where was the evidence that Harper had lived for forty or so years before moving to Key West?