Chapter 9
Lizzie
They walked down Duval Street together, Sarah pointed out bars as they passed, giving Lizzie the rundown on which ones worked for the crawl and which ones to avoid. They stopped in front of a large building that was crowded with people.
“McHale’s is an Irish pub style place. I always recommend it for groups.”
“Should we go in?”
Sarah checked her watch. “Sure. One drink.”
Inside, the pub was dark and cozy. A soccer match played on the TV above the bar. They found two stools near the end.
“What do you want?” Sarah asked.
Lizzie scanned the beer taps. “I don’t know. What’s good?”
“Guinness.”
“That sounds heavy.”
“It is. But it’s the best.” Sarah turned to the bartender. “Two Guinness.”
The bartender, a woman in her fifties with a thick Irish accent, started pouring. The beers arrived, dark and thick. Lizzie took a sip and tried not to make a face.
“Not a fan?” Sarah was trying not to smile.
“It’s very... beer-like.”
“That’s the point.” Sarah took a long drink. “You’ll get used to it.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The pub smelled like fried food and sweat. Someone at the other end of the bar was arguing about the soccer match.
“So tell me about this novel you’re writing,” Sarah said. “Three generations of women keeping secrets?”
“Yeah. It’s probably a mess right now.” Lizzie traced the rim of her glass. “My professor keeps telling me I over-explain everything. Like I need to trust the reader more.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like instead of saying ‘she was nervous,’ I should show her picking at her nails or whatever. Let the reader figure it out.”
Sarah looked at her for a moment. “Are you nervous right now?”
The question caught Lizzie off guard. “What?”
“You’ve been tearing your napkin into pieces since we sat down.”
Lizzie looked down. A small mountain of white paper had piled up by her glass. “Oh.”
“So are you?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my boss and we’re at a bar and I don’t really know what this is.” Lizzie met her eyes. “What are we doing?”
Sarah grinned and took a gulp, white foam clung to her lip which she licked off in a way that made Lizzie swallow hard. “Scouting locations for a bar crawl.”
“Right. Of course.”
But something in the way Sarah looked at her suggested maybe it was more than that. Or maybe Lizzie was seeing what she wanted to see.
They finished their beers and headed back out. The street was more crowded now, the night getting later. Sarah led them down a narrow alley to rickety wooden stairs.
“Ruby’s is up here. Watch your step. These stairs are a lawsuit waiting to happen. Make sure you tell the spring breakers that too.”
Lizzie started climbing. Her foot slipped on the third step and she stumbled forward.
Sarah’s hand caught her waist instantly. “Careful.”
The touch sent heat through Lizzie’s entire body. Sarah’s hand was warm and firm, her fingers pressing into Lizzie’s side.
“Thanks,” Lizzie managed.
Sarah kept her hand there as they climbed, like she was ready to catch Lizzie if she fell again. At the top, her hand lingered for just a second before she pulled away.
The bar was small and loud, packed with people. The bartender had a handlebar mustache and sleeve tattoos.
“There’s this drink that’s been trending,” Lizzie said, pulling out her phone. “It’s called a Sunset Flip. Can you make it?”
She showed him the video. He grinned. “Yeah, I got you. What about you?” He looked at Sarah.
“I’ll try one too.”
They found a spot by the window overlooking the side street they’d come through. Duval Street was nearby, cars hoking and people shouting.
“This place is good for the crawl,” Sarah said. “Small enough groups don’t get lost.”
“You’ve done a lot of these?”
“Too many.” Sarah leaned against the windowsill. “Now last year though, Chrisla did it then but she’s my main front desk clerk now.”
The drinks arrived, purple and pink gradient.
Lizzie took a sip. The drink was sweet and strong. “This is really good.”
“Better than Guinness?”
“Way better.”
Sarah smiled. A real smile, not the professional one.
Conversation came easily, thanks to the drinks. Before Lizzie knew it, they were discussing movies, books, and of course work.
“… and then that woman had the audacity to ask if I can do anything about the sun. It was too bright on the mountain and interrupting her skiing,” Sarah concluded a story about the worst guest she’d ever had.
“Oh my goodness, that reminds me of this guy who came into the bakery once and demanded a non-round bagel.”
They both laughed out loud, which felt good, and genuine, and freeing.
“Where do these people come from?” Sarah asked with a laugh.
“Becki used to say they all came out of the same barn where they never learned human interaction,” Lizzie replied. Instantly, she caught the way Sarah’s head tilted.
“Becki?”
“My ex.”
The silence stretched for a beat. Then another. Then…
“Ah.”
That ‘ah’ carried a lot of weight. As if she’d been wondering about Lizzie. As if there was something she’d been wanting to ask that had now been answered.
The kiss flashed through her mind again. She raised her hand, ready to place it on Sarah’s but then closed her eyes.
She had to get away from here. She needed to text Maya. Get her to talk her out of whatever this spiral was she was in. “I need the bathroom. Be right back.”
The bathroom was single stall, and there was a line. She sighed and picked up the phone. Three texts from Maya, one from her mom, and one from Jasper. She was typing a response to Maya, describing the while Sarah situation, when the bathroom door opened again.
Crap.
Cynthia and Emma wandered in, staring first at the line, then at her.
“Well. Lizzie Wakefield. Are you following us?”
“It’s a public bar.”
“Right. A public bar where you just happen to be with your boss.” Cynthia turned to face her directly. “That’s her, right? Sarah Barnes?”
“We’re working.”
“At a bar on a Saturday night?” Cynthia’s smile was sharp. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
She had to curl her hands into fists to channel the rage. “We’re scouting locations for a bar crawl.”
“Oh please. You two have been eye-fucking each other. Emma, didn’t I say they were hooking up?”
“Cynthia,” Emma said uncomfortably.
“What? Look at her. She’s blushing. They’re totally hooking up.” Cynthia stepped closer. “It’s kind of gross. Her using her position to sleep with her intern.”
“We’re not sleeping together.” Not that she didn’t want to.
“Yet.” Cynthia laughed. “God, this is so pathetic. You’re really out here working during spring break and trying to fuck your way to a good recommendation. Very on brand, Lizzie.”
Emma grabbed Cynthia’s arm. “That’s enough. Let’s go. There’s another bar with more bathrooms somewhere on this rock, I’m sure.”
They left. Lizzie stood there shaking, her nails digging into her palms. She abandoned her quest to use the bathroom and rushed back to Sarah.
“Can we go?”
Sarah looked up from her phone.
“Sure. What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m ready for the next place, that’s all.”
“Lizzie.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened but she nodded and they walked back down the rickety stairs. Outside, Lizzie took a deep breath. The night air helped.
“Those girls who came out of the bathroom right before you, I recognize them from the hotel,” Sarah said. “They said something.”
“They’re just assholes.”
“What did they say?”
Lizzie looked at her. “All kinds of stupid stuff. Cynthia more so than Emma. Emma’s kinda alright when you get her alone. But Cynthia hates me because she got into trouble at school because of me.” She gave Sarah a condensed version of what had happened and Sarah let out a breath of air.
“Well,” Sarah said. “She seems like a piece of work.”
“She is.”
Sarah looped her arm under Lizzie’s as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s go somewhere fun. Loud. Where we don’t have to think.”
She led them to a bar with rainbow flags and a neon sign. Inside, music pounded and a drag queen in silver was on stage.
“Alright my loves!” the queen called out. “Who’s ready for trivia?”
Sarah grabbed Lizzie’s hand and pulled her toward a table. The touch sent sparks up Lizzie’s arm.
“Last stop,” Sarah said. “And we’re going to win.”
The drag queen, Celeste DeVille, started the first round. Literature.
“What was Ernest Hemingway’s first major novel?”
“The Sun Also Rises,” Lizzie said immediately.
“Showed off,” Sarah teased.
They breezed through literature. Then came music from the 60s, 70s, and 80s.
“Who sang ‘Don’t Stop Believin’?”
“Journey,” Sarah said without hesitation.
“How do you know all this?”
“When your husband is decades older than you, you pick things up.”
They went back and forth, their answers complementing each other perfectly. By the final round they were tied with another team. A husband-and-wife pair who were dressed in matching shirts, pants, and even hats.
“Tiebreaker!” Celeste announced. “What year were the Stonewall Riots?”
“1969,” Lizzie and Sarah said at the same time.
“Bingo!” Celeste called. “Well, no, that’s another game but Yay! The winners are our lovely two ladies in the corner. And the prize is a gift card to Abuela’s.” She wandered over and handed Sarah the gift card.
“You take it,” Sarah said.
“We won together.”
“I’m the GM of the largest resort on the island. If I want free food, I can get it.” Sarah pressed the card into Lizzie’s hand. “Take Chrisla or whoever.”
After shaking hands with their rivals and enjoying a free round of drinks, they walked out into the night. Lizzie felt good. A little buzzed but good. The bar crawl was planned. Sarah had apologized. They’d won trivia together.
And yet, that feeling of contentment didn’t last. Outside, out of nowhere, the night air hit Lizzie like a wall. Her stomach lurched. She stumbled to the side of the building and threw up into the bushes.
“Jeez!” Lizzie braced herself against the wall. “I’m so sorry. That was unexpected.”