Chapter Twenty-Seven
Audrey
M om was indeed upset that I’d missed another Sunday dinner. I avoided her calls all day Monday but finally gave in yesterday and answered one. That led her to guilt me into spending the night with her and Dad.
When Dad questioned me about what I had done on Sunday evening, I casually told him I had been at the carnival with friends. Since Heather was pretty much the only person I’d hung out with outside of the bar over the past few years, I was sure he didn’t completely believe me. If he did, he likely suspected that Parker had somehow been involved.
Although I take pride in being a strong, independent woman, the truth is that, deep down, I will always be a daddy’s girl. That’s why I dislike lying to him, even if it’s just by omission.
He didn’t press me on the matter though, which I appreciated. I wouldn’t know how to answer his questions anyway. It’s not like I can tell my father that I’m not in a relationship with Parker Alston; I’m just letting him knock the dust off my vagina.
Leena and I are working the dinner shift, and I’m loading a tray with cocktails for one of the servers when Amiya, Lennon, Anson, Parker, Sebastian, and Avie enter. The guys grab a table, and Amiya and Avie head to me.
“Can we get two of those cherry fizz things you made the other night?” Amiya asks.
“I’m out of cherry liqueur, but I can make you one with cherry vodka, simple syrup, and club soda,” I offer.
“Sounds great.”
“What are you guys up to?” I ask as I start making their drinks.
“The boys were out fishing on the boat all day, so we came to meet them for dinner. Too bad you can’t join us.”
“I’m off in half an hour, and I’ll come join you,” I say.
They take their glasses to the table as their server arrives with several appetizers. Thirty minutes later, I let Leena know I’m closing out. I fetch a basket of tater tots from Calvin, grab a Coke, and then take my snack and join my friends. Parker snags a spare chair from one of the other tables, and Amiya scooches over so I can slide between them.
“How’s it going today?” Parker asks as he hands me the ketchup from the center of the table.
“Good. Lunch was slow, but dinner picked up a bit. I expect it to be a fairly quiet night. Leonard should be fine.”
Wednesday nights are calm during the offseason with only our regulars—locals who never miss a night—and a few stragglers. Therefore, I’ve reduced the staffing to one bartender.
The server arrives with a round of shots for the table.
“Oh, we need one more,” Amiya says as she passes the glasses around.
“No, that’s okay. None for me,” I say.
“Why not? You’re done for the night, aren’t you?” she asks.
“I am. I don’t drink here though,” I say.
“Yeah, probably bad business for the bartenders to get wasted,” Sebastian says.
Parker looks at me and pushes his shot aside.
I roll my eyes.
“I don’t have a problem with you drinking here as long as it’s not when you’re behind my bar. I just spend a lot of time in this place. I don’t want to make a habit of drinking every day, so it’s a rule I made for myself. I know how easy it is to use something—anything—as a crutch. I used prescription pills. First, it’s just one to help you through a particularly taxing day at work. Then, it’s another to help you wind down at night. Before you know it, you’re taking that little magic pill just to function like a normal person. It spirals out of control without you even realizing it’s happening.”
We all have a line in the sand—an invisible threshold—one we can’t cross without getting lost in something. Once we cross it, we can never uncross it, never go back to enjoying a cocktail with the girls. And we are our own gatekeepers.
“So, I don’t drink on workdays or when upset. I try to limit myself to two glasses of wine or two cocktails, though I don’t always manage that, as you all witnessed the other night, but I try,” I continue.
“That’s smart. It makes sense that you must be careful when working in your industry,” Avie says.
“Plus, we’ve seen too many people act a damn fool because of it,” Amiya says, sliding her eyes to Anson.
His eyes go wide. “Who, me?”
“You are the only damn fool in here,” she quips.
“Whatever. I’m going over there, where my charm will be appreciated.”
He grabs his beer and heads off toward a table where a couple of girls are eating. They happily invite him to take a seat.
“Seriously, you can drink that,” I tell Parker.
“Prescription pills?” he says.
I shrug. “Xanax. The doctor gave it to me for anxiety after …” I pause and look up at him. “You know.”
He nods.
“I stayed on it way too long. I couldn’t deal with life without it. Turns out, I just didn’t want to deal with life. Once I tossed the prescription and started talking through my shit, I found out I was stronger than I’d thought.”
“So, you don’t take it anymore?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. Been off it for years. My preferred coping mechanisms are meditation and an occasional therapy session nowadays.”
I feel his hand on my knee, and he squeezes it.
“That’s healthy,” Amiya says. “I’d love to be able to meditate. I’ve tried, but my mind starts racing when I get in my quiet space and close my eyes.”
“That happens to everyone at first. You have to focus on your breathing. Concentrate on the rise and fall of your chest as you inhale and exhale, and when your mind wanders, you gently guide it back to your breath. Start short, just a few minutes at a time, and gradually work yourself up. It gets easier.”
“That sounds like what Eden tells us to do when she tries to teach us yoga,” Avie says.
“Eden teaches yoga? Heather and I have been talking about starting forever,” I say.
“You two will have to join us. We’re going to start at the beginning of the year after Eden pops that kid out. We can meet at my house three times a week. I’ll make homemade protein bars and smoothies for us,” Amiya says.
Avie leans over her. “See? Any excuse to play hostess.”
“Speaking of which, you’re still coming on Sunday, right?” Amiya asks.
“Yes. I’m working the lunch shift, and then I have to stop by my parents’ house for dinner, or my mother will disown me, but I’ll be by a little later.”
“Okay, but save some room for oysters,” she says.
Parker leans over and whispers, “You’re coming to my party?”
I bring my eyes to him. “Yeah. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is. I would have invited you myself, but I assumed one of us had to work.”
“Nope. I’m going to let Leena and Leonard handle it, and Van is working. He’ll be there if they need him.”
He smiles. “I didn’t want a party. I was kind of forced into it, but now, I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’re welcome,” Amiya bellows.