Chapter 1 #2
Feeling childish for cursing at a closed door, I scoff and head for the bar, already digging in my bag for more cash.
It’s time for another drink—and maybe something to eat.
The Mexican food Spencer ordered for the office as a late lunch is too distant a memory.
As if confirming the thought, my stomach rumbles as I slip in next to Kara’s barstool and, while the music is too loud for her to have heard it, she must be able to sense the hangry rolling off my shoulders because she pushes her basket of fries towards me.
“How was beanie baby?”
I make a face and shove a fry in before waving down the bartender. She nods, letting me know I’ll be next and my eyes sweep across the bar towards the bathroom. No sign of the hunky asshat. Shaking my head, I turn back to Kara.
“Men are fuckers.”
“Oh, Lottie,” she says, patting my arm. “Was your bathroom romp a dud? I could have told you that.”
I smirk and take another few fries. “If you can believe it, he wasn’t even the worst part. Some asshole prude made a comment as I was leaving. Seriously, who the fuck does that?”
My stomach churns, my whole body ill with a new realization. Hot, but judgy stranger aside, the distraction I was seeking with beanie boy didn’t work. My anxiety about tomorrow grows in tandem with my stomach ache. As is her habit, Kara reads my face.
“Still nervous?”
Shrugging, I bite into another nearly stale fry. “I suppose it will take more than a few cocktails and a hot piece of ass to forget my entire future will be decided tomorrow.”
This time it’s Kara who makes a face. “First of all, lollipop was, at best, a mediocre piece of ass, and second, it’s not your entire future. You’re being dramatic.”
In an interruption that comes just before I can counter her argument, the bartender passes by. “Another house margarita?”
“Yes, on the Wilde tab and whatever she wants.”
Kara orders another whiskey sour, and the bartender gets to work. I fiddle with one of the fries, squishing the mushed potato out of the browned exterior. Still dwelling on tomorrow’s stressors, I pull us back to the point.
“My entire future might be a little extreme, but flopping my presentation and losing out on the special project pay bump does mean Nan’s stays on the market for another quarter, and god knows Vince isn’t going to hold off on entertaining other offers much longer.
” Releasing a rather dramatic, forlorn sigh, I finish destroying the french fry between my fingers.
“I’m afraid the only thing I have left to convince him is little better than prostitution.
Acing that presentation and managing to impress the out of touch CFO is my shot. ”
I nod my thanks at the bartender as she slips a cool glass towards me and take a long sip, letting the sweet bite of tequila wash away Ryan’s bitter-tinged kiss. Kara laughs, her infectious giggle pulling one from me.
“God,” she says, “Vince is on another level. Could you imagine all that hair on top of you? I don’t know if buying the diner is worth that.”
The image of the sweaty landlord who currently owns Nan’s old diner flashes before me—his bald head, the only hairless part of him, gleaming as he smokes a cigarette and considers what would probably be my pathetic attempt at sweetening the short-on-cash deal I’d offer.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her tone is painfully sweet, and I scrunch my nose at her accuracy.
I dislike most people, but not Kara. Securing a roommate online was a risk, and while my only intention was to find someone to split rent with, I can’t help but feel like I won the lottery when I found the vivacious redhead and her collection of lizard paraphernalia.
She’s my favorite brand of quirky, and I admire her willingness to follow her muse wherever it leads; which, in the six years I’ve known her, is just about everywhere.
Right now, it’s taking her along the scenic route of launching her own line of handcrafted ceramic goods.
“No, I don’t. But you’re on thin ice.”
She winks and takes a sip of her cocktail.
Our drinks don’t last much longer and soon Kara and I are closing our tabs and stepping out into the brisk night air.
Spring is a volatile season in Portland and tonight it’s serving a chilly bite under a cloud-spackled sky.
It’s not everyone’s favorite, but I’ve always loved the tricky threat of rain here.
It’s like mother nature is fucking with everyone, never letting anyone know what her next move is going to be.
Arms linked and shivering together, Kara and I wait for the crosswalk light to change.
A riotous wave of laughter rises up behind us and I glance towards its source: half a dozen drunk men standing just inside the bar’s patio gate.
A few of them are holding fat cigars, the cloud of tobacco reminding me of beanie baby.
With a grimace, I scan their faces. My lackluster hook-up isn’t among them but I am disgruntled by the sight of the Greek-god-turned-mortal-asshole from the bathroom hallway.
His casual stance and easy smile send a shiver of annoyance down my spine and into my toes. Fuck that guy. And fuck his judgement.
I tighten my grip on Kara’s arm, turning back to focus with everything I have on the solid red hand illuminated across the street.
“What?” Kara asks, craning her neck to see what shifted me back into grumpville.
“That’s the guy from the hallway.”
“Which one? The hot one who looks like someone pissed in his beer?”
“Don’t look,” I hiss, yanking her around. “But, yes.”
“Oh, Lottie he is foine.”
My stomach flips, remembering his corded forearms and the way his steely gaze traced my flushed and flustered, post hook-up form. She’s not wrong, and I hate it.
“Yeah, too bad he’s a dick.”
“Is he a dick, or was he giving you a hard time for slutting it up in a bar bathroom? To be fair, I do that too.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I’m on the side of whatever gets you more face to face—or other things—with that hottie. Seriously, is he real? Did he smell good? His jawline tells me he would smell good. Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve been laid.”
Kara’s babbling turns to a whine, and all of it is too loud for my comfort. We’re still close enough that if they wanted to, any of the men could hear her.
“Thin ice, sister. You’re drunk and it’s time to go home.”
The longer we stand here waiting for the light to change, the more I feel eyes watching us. Kara’s louder than life chatter isn’t helping, and all of it is making me nauseous. Though that could also be credited to the four, too-sweet margaritas I downed.
“What is wrong with this damn light?”
“Hey!” Kara calls, slipping from my grasp and stumbling towards the group on the patio.
“Hey, yourself,” one of the cigar-toting men calls back.
Though I consider leaving my friend to yell at strangers on her own, I groan and follow her—hoping to get her back on track towards home before she says or does something we’ll both regret.
“You,” she says, pointing to the hottie.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me and then back at my inebriated roommate.
“Yes?”
“Why were you a dick to my friend?”
Actively ignoring the way his gaze bounces between us, I reach for Kara’s arm. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t think I was,” the man says. His voice is smooth as velvet, and he smirks before taking a long pull from his beer. His calm confidence rattles me, but I grit my teeth. Not worth the time. Unfortunately, Kara doesn’t seem to agree.
“Well she says you were. And I want to know why.”
He steps towards us and I tug her jacket harder. “Come on, let’s go.”
Kara doesn’t move and the two of them stare at each other in what looks like a silent square up.
I bounce my attention between them, halfway waiting for one to draw an ivory-handled pistol.
The other men, too, have quieted and are watching their asshole friend tower over my very drunk, but determined roommate.
The man’s cheek quirks with a laugh he doesn’t voice, his eyes darting to mine again.
“I simply told your friend she looked dissatisfied with her conquest, and that it didn’t surprise me.”
His words churn in my belly, the heat of anger growing by the second. Though I had no intention of engaging with him further, my response falls out before I can help it.
“That’s not what you said.”
“It’s almost exactly what I said. If you misconstrued it, that’s on you.”
I frown, my nausea cresting with my frustration. “Whatever, asshat.”
Tugging hard on Kara’s arm, I pull her back towards the street, ready to jaywalk if need be. His voice rings clear behind us as the light finally changes.
“Maybe next time try a man who doesn’t wear a beanie and suck on lollipops like a child.”
“That’s what I said!” Kara shrieks, her drunken giggle bursting out as she breaks free from my grip once more.
My anger rumbles and I twist back to respond, but instead of words, I double over as vomit pours out onto the concrete.