Chapter 11
Aspen
“Ican’t believe he’s still allowed at the bar!”
“I’m gonna call your manager!”
“Should we all fight him?”
“Guys!” I hold my hands up in surrender as my friends all sound off after I finish telling them about the incident at work a couple weeks ago. “It’s okay.”
Music pulses through the crowded bar and into my blood, heating it alongside the third vodka cranberry I’ve tossed back. Empty drinks scatter the sticky tabletop, and one of my friends, Nicole, peers around Marley trying to catch one of the bartenders’ eyes for more.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sara yells over the noise, eyes narrowed with hurt.
My shoulders curve in and the low cut of my tank top dips further. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. And someone was there that night that helped me out, so I was fine.”
Nicole pounces. “Who?”
I fake a casual shrug. “Just another guy at the bar stepped in.”
Every single one of my friends around the table hone their attention on me. A spotlight might as well be lighting me up.
Marley’s the first to speak up. “Is this the same someone that you ran into at work awhile back and didn’t want to talk about?”
I should be surprised that she remembers that, considering I didn’t give any further explanation to them, but then again, this is one of my best friends we’re talking about. She remembers everything.
I sip the very watered-down remaining dregs of my drink. “Yeah, kinda.”
“Wait, who is this?” Nicole cuts in. Her black bob swishes as she leans forward. “What happened? Who did you run into? Why am I the last to know?”
“I don’t know either,” Amanda adds. “But please fill me in!” She eagerly puts her elbows on the table and bats her long lashes at me. “I never get good gossip like this anymore.”
“That’s because you’re always with Ben,” Marley quips.
“I can’t help it; we work together!” The two of them started a travel vlog channel before I ever moved out here and met them.
Amanda and Marley used to work together as assistants for a designer when they were eighteen.
Then over the years, even as they went into new fields and projects, they remained friends, and when I moved in with Marley and Sara, I was introduced to her and we grew just as close.
Same with Nicole, who was roommates with Amanda before she moved in with her boyfriend.
“Refocus!” Nicole claps. “Aspen, who’s this person?”
I shift on the narrow stool. Sara places a gentle hand on my bare shoulder. “You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to.”
The neutral look I’ve been trying to keep up must not be working as I glance around the table and see the rest of my friends agreeing with her, even Nicole.
I don’t know why even now I still hesitate to tell them about him. These are my best friends. My family. I trust them with my life. And they’re not going to be starstruck by the celebrity that is Reid Keely. So why am I trying to hide this from them?
Because if you speak it into existence, it might all go away again.
“A while ago, someone came into work that I had known from back in Pittsburgh,” I start, and at the mention of my hometown, the table falls silent.
Curiosity turns to empathy as my friends listen, waiting patiently for anything I have to tell them.
They’ve all heard bits and pieces of my fucked-up childhood, the reasons why I moved here all by myself, and why I never have anywhere to go home for the holidays.
But I rarely talk about it. “One of my foster brothers that I had growing up lives out here. I hadn’t seen him since he moved out when I was eleven. ”
People continue to dance, drink, let loose, while it feels like a protective little bubble has grown around our table. Nicole puts a hand on my leg and squeezes gently. I shoot her a grateful smile.
“We’ve been sort of…reconnecting, I guess,” I say. “And he was there that night the guy grabbed my ass and took care of it for me.” Even though I still could’ve handled it myself. “So while I appreciate you all willing to ride at dawn for me, the situation has already been resolved.”
Kevin and I talked the next day; he assured me that what Hugh did wouldn’t be tolerated, and Hugh hasn’t been back since. Whether that’s to do with Kevin telling him not to come back, or Reid’s threats, I’m not sure.
“Your foster brother,” Marley says carefully, like she’s stepping in a field of landmines. “Is he the one who’s been dropping you off after work?”
Shock runs through me. “How’d you know about that?”
She gives me a dull look. “We’ve noticed a car dropping you off at night sometimes. We’ve just been waiting for you to tell us who it is.”
Sara adds, “We thought maybe you started seeing someone and just weren’t ready to tell us about it yet.”
I push my hair back from my forehead and tuck it behind my ears as sweat clings to my skin. “If I was seeing someone I’d tell you!”
“You’d better,” Nicole laughs. “I can’t wait for the day that you finally get your first boyfriend. Or girlfriend,” she says with a wink at Marley and Sara.
“Trust me”—I fiddle with my empty glass—“you all will know the second I do. But it’s nothing like that with him. We’ve just been…” I don’t know what we’ve been doing. Getting to know the adult versions of each other? Bonding over shared circumstances that no one else in our lives can understand?
“You don’t have to say anything more,” Sara says, and the group nods. “Thank you for sharing that with us. And if you do want to talk about him more, we’re here.” A soft smile crosses her face. “I’m happy you’ve found him again. It’s a good thing, right?”
“I-I think so.” The words sound choked but luckily are dampened by the music. It is a good thing, but the memories, the feelings that are dredged back up from seeing him again, those have been harder to wade through. Feelings I thought I had healed, thought patterns that I thought were in my past.
Waiting for people to leave me.
Waiting for something bad to happen.
My nails reflect the anxiety I’ve been trying to choke down and pretend isn’t keeping me up at night.
“Well, I’m glad he was there then to step in when that asshole thought he could touch you,” Amanda says. “Your boss should’ve been the one to do it, though.”
Agreements echo around the table.
“You know if you want to quit On Tap, you can come work with us,” Sara says. The offer is one both she and Marley have given me for the past two years. And each time my answer has been the same.
“I know, and I appreciate it, but I’m good where I am.”
“Are you?” Marley questions. “Do you want to serve drinks for the rest of your life?”
“No,” I snort. “But I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life, and until I figure that out, I’m fine with my job.”
“We just want to—”
I stand, abruptly scraping my stool against the floor, and gesture toward the bar.
“I’m gonna go get another drink.” I don’t wait for anyone to stop me, or ask if anyone else wants another.
The need to step away from the table for a minute overrides everything else as I weave through the crowded room and find reprieve near the far corner of the bar.
I lean against the sticky wood counter and cringe.
One of the bartenders makes eye contact with me and holds up a finger, gesturing for me to wait. I wave him off, not really needing another drink anyways but just needing something to get me away for a moment. Get me out of a conversation I don’t feel like having again.
I know they only bring it up again because they love me, but I don’t want it. Accepting their help just feels like a shortcut. Like I won’t have earned anything.
My head is slightly foggy as I pull my phone out of my back pocket and find Reid’s number.
Me: What are you up to tonight since you’re off driving duty?
We don’t really text that often, but since our talk on the lookout, there’s been a new understanding built between us. A bit of the wall between us has slightly eroded. So maybe he’ll—
Reid: Watching a movie…why? What are you doing?
Me: What movie? And I’m out with friends
Reid: 300
Reid: Why are you texting me then if you’re out?
God, I don’t fucking know. Because I’m a little drunk, a little annoyed, and because I haven’t seen him in two days and I can’t stop thinking about him.
I ignore his second text.
Me: Your taste in movies is unsurprising
Reid: Why is that?
Me: A war movie? A bunch of angry men? That sounds like you
Bubbles pop up before disappearing, then reappearing again.
Reid: You know what I’m not even going to get into it. It’s a great movie and you should give it a shot sometime if you can wipe the judgment out of your mind
Me: I’m good
Reid: Your loss. Having a fun night? Must not be if you’re talking to me
Me: Yes I am! I’m actually waiting for another drink right now so I just figured I’d fill my time by making sure you weren’t bored without me to drive around tonight
Reid: You probably don’t need another
Me: I in fact do
Reid: Sure ok
Me: I do cause my friends keep hounding me about working for them and I needed to get away for a minute
Reid: The ones who own the magazine?
Me: Yeah
A couple weeks ago on one of our drives, I told Reid about the people I had in my life now.
Who became my family the past few years that I’ve been out here.
Which included Marley and Sara, and also about their company.
It felt intimate to share that part of my life with him, even if I have yet to introduce him to them.
The opportunity has been there to invite him up and have them all meet, but there’s something holding me back.
Like maybe I’m still waiting for him to leave.
Reid: Why don’t you want to work for them?
Me: I’m not a journalist! Or an editor. Or a photographer. Or literally anything of use to them
Reid: If they’re offering you then they clearly have ways that you can help them
Me: I don’t want them to do it just because I’m their friend
Me: You of all people should know it’s better not to mix business and friendships
I may not know the full story, only speculation that was in the press, but clearly since Reid is never with his once best friends, I figure the band didn’t break up simply because of different creative pursuits.
Reid: Fuck off. You don’t know shit about that
Reid: Don’t be stubborn. Accept the help
It’s not about being stubborn. It’s about accepting help being a foreign concept for someone like me. I choke down the rising snort and type.
Me: That’s rich coming from you when I doubt you’d accept it if you were in my shoes
Bubbles pop up for a long time, too long for his response to simply say:
Reid: Whatever
Reid: Maybe we haven’t changed as much as we thought
Maybe not.
Me: I hope that’s not true
Me: But who knows
Reid: Their business must be doing good if they keep offering you a position
Me: I guess so
Reid: If they need help with any connections or shit let me know
Reid: I know a good photographer if they need one
Me: Why would you do that? You don’t even know them and I don’t think you’re the type to do something out of the kindness of your heart
Maybe I’m fishing here. Maybe the drinks have gone to my head and I’m searching for something that could very well squash my rising hopes with a single text.
But maybe…
Reid: If they’re important to you then it’s important to me
Reid: Or whatever. Forget I said anything. Don’t have any more drinks tonight
I can’t help the smile that sits on my face as I reread his last texts over and over.
Even with the alcohol clouding my brain, I most certainly will not be forgetting he said anything.
Not at all.