Chapter 14
Instead of going home, I ended up at a bar that Jules and I frequented. Louie, my favorite bartender, lit up when he saw me, but his face fell when he noticed my puffy, tear-streaked face.
He was pouring my Amaretto Sour without waiting for me to order it.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Tell me when you’re ready for your next one.” He tapped the bar three times with his knuckles before moving down to take orders.
It was only eight thirty, so the bar wasn’t incredibly busy. I took out my phone and dialed Jules again. When the voicemail picked up, I hung up, downed my drink, signaled Louie for another round, and texted Jules.
I sent it.
Unfinished and messy. Jules had never been MIA before; we were always glued at the hip. The only reason we weren’t having our Friday unwinding was because Bradford was traveling so much.
I missed my friend.
Tears leaked down my face. Louie sat down another drink. “Thanks,” I whispered around the tears clogging my throat.
Louie was about to answer when a very drunk older woman saddled up to the bar.
“What can I get you?” he asked, while he tried to be a gentleman and not look at her ginormous boobs she placed on top of the bar.
“Are you single?” she asked.
I brightened. Jules and I had been to the bar enough times that I knew what was about to happen. Louie was an adorable bartender with big, blue eyes and charm oozing off of him in waves. He also was in a very committed relationship with his high school sweetheart.
Without answering, Louie grabbed a glass and filled it with a concoction. I’d never paid attention to what he was putting in the glass, too busy watching the woman’s reaction.
“Here you go.” He handed her the glass. “Would you like to start a tab?”
The woman stared at him and then the drink he’d just handed her, confusion written all over her heavily make-upped face.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s an Are You Single. Isn’t that what you asked for?”
She opened her mouth and slammed it shut. Her face turned bright red, which was impressive with the amount of foundation she had caked on it.
“Th- that’s not what I-I meant,” she finally stammered.
“Would you like me to make you another drink?” he asked innocently.
“No.” She took the glass and stormed off to the table her friends were at.
“Fuck, that never gets old,” I told him.
He smiled and went down the bar to fill his orders.
As I was finishing my second glass, my phone lit up with Jules’ name.
“Finally,” I sighed into the phone. I needed my friend.
“What the fuck do you mean Bradford broke up with you?” she screamed into the phone.
There she was.
“Where are you? I’m four hours away. I’m coming. I’m so sorry. I’m a shit friend.”
“I’m at Louie’s bar. Where are you?”
“I have something to tell you, but I don’t want to do it over the phone,” she said.
I signaled Louie for my next drink. He plopped it down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answered my very nervous bartender.
Shit, was I slurring?
“How many amarettos have you had?” Jules asked. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m not there.”
“I’m on my third. Don’t worry, I’ll call an Uber,” I told her, my nose burning.
Shit, if I keep crying, I’m going to be dehydrated.
“You can’t be alone,” Jules said, tears in her voice. A muffled man’s voice sounded in the background. “That’s a good idea.”
“It is?” I asked, confused.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jules said. “You’re snockered. Don’t call an Uber, I’m sending someone to be with you so you’re not alone until I get to you. I’m hurrying. I love you so much.”
That was it. I sucked in a deep breath and tears streamed down my face. “I love you, too. Please hurry,” I whispered.
“Don’t hang up. Stay on the phone with me until he gets there.”
I nodded like she could see me. Sniffling, I finished my drink. When I was about to signal Louie for another drink, a strong hand landed on my shoulder.
“I’m here.”
I knew the voice.
Why the hell is Mr. Easton here?
“Rach, baby, let Easton take you home. I’m three and a half hours away. I’m coming straight to your house, okay?”
“Why would you call Mr. Easton?” I asked.
Before she could answer, Mr. Easton took the phone out of my hand. “Drive safe, Cole. I’ll take care of her until you get here.” He hung up my phone and signaled Louie with an imperious tilt of his chin, sitting next to me.
I stared at him, my buzzed brain unable to conjure any scenario as to why Jules thought Mr. Easton was the one to sit with me while she drove back from wherever the fuck she was.
“Whiskey, and whatever the hell she’s drinking,” Mr. Easton ordered, still not looking at me.
I wiped my face with a bar napkin. “What are you doing here?”
He moved to face me and grimaced.
Way to kick a girl when she’s down.
His jaw ticked when he lifted his hand toward my face and I flinched. The proper Mr. Easton rolled his eyes in annoyance.
“You have pieces of bar napkin stuck to your face.”
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled.
Louie sat our drinks in front of us, eyeing Mr. Easton with distrust in his bright blue eyes. “Are you good, Rach?”
Mr. Easton huffed into his drink. “Of course, the bartender would know your name,” he spoke into his drink, setting it down and staring Louie dead in the eyes. “She’s fine. I’m her official babysitter until Jules can get to her. I promise she’ll be safe.”
“Says every serial killer before slaughtering their victim.”
Mr. Easton chuckled while Louie glared even harder.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and now I’m going to be carefully watched by your little friend until you tell him you are safe and actually mean it.” Mr. Easton motioned with his hand toward Louie as if I was unable to comprehend who he was talking about.
“Am I safe?” I asked, feeling raw.
The alcohol rushed through me, but instead of it dulling the emotions like I wanted it to, it seemed to aggravate every nerve ending.
The shock of having Mr. Easton’s full attention on me had my breath rushing out of me.
“You’re safe, Trouble. I promise. Drink, go numb. I’ll drive you home when you’re ready, or when I deem it time for you to go, and I’ll wait for Jules.”
Louie knocked his knuckles on the bar, seeming satisfied with Mr. Easton’s declaration.
My hands shook when I pulled my drink to me and I missed the straw twice before Mr. Easton grasped it between his thick fingers and brought it to my lips.
“Why are you here?”
I watched the corner of his mouth quirk up before dissolving into his normal stoic self. “Jules had Cole call me. Jules was panicking that you were alone.”
“Why would Jules—” I stopped before finishing my sentence.
I smacked my forehead, or at least that was the action I was going for. I missed my forehead and almost toppled off the bar stool. Mr. Easton’s warm hand wrapped around my waist, keeping me glued to the seat.
With his other hand he moved my drink away from me and signaled Louie to bring me water. With a surge of defiance and not much finesse, I slid the drink toward me and sucked the rest of it down.
“Why did I think this was going to be an easy task? Cole fucking owes me.”
His words triggered my revelation. “So, our best friends, huh?”
“It appears so. Cole took her to Santa Barbara. Jules lost her phone. She wasn’t ignoring you. They just bought her another one after not being able to find it. She was worried, and from what I gathered feeling guilty.”
My forehead touched the sticky surface of the bar as more tears rushed out.
“Did you start a tab?” Mr. Easton asked gruffly.
I nodded, my head still pressed to the bar.
“What’s the bartender’s name?”
“Louie,” I sniffled, the tears coming out harder.
“Louie,” Mr. Easton called out, not yelling, but with authority of a man who was used to getting his way. “I need her card back. Do not charge it, I’ll give you cash, and if you do it in the next thirty seconds, I’ll give you a hefty tip.”
My shoulders trembled. I tried to keep my tears at bay, but those fuckers were not in a listening mood. Maybe if I had Mr. Easton tell them to stop, they’d listen.
“I don’t think any part of your body has the capability of listening to me.” Mr. Easton picked me up like a child.
I wrapped my legs around him, burying my face in his neck, and allowed the tears what they wanted. Escape. Escape on Mr. Easton’s very expensive shirt.
Without pushing me off him, Mr. Easton maneuvered me around, fishing out his wallet and tossing money on the bar.
Mr. Easton carried me out like I weighed nothing. I whimpered into his neck, the alcohol not appreciating the movement. Although I was oddly comforted by the gruff asshole holding me. When he settled me into the passenger seat, going so far as to buckle me in, I cried even harder.
“Please stop crying. You’ve already ruined my shirt. I don’t want you ruining my upholstery.”
I hiccupped, “You aren’t really an asshole.”
“Oh, no. I am the biggest asshole there is. Do not mistake what I’m doing for kindness. Cole has a letter opener I’ve been wanting from him for a long time, and with this babysitting duty it will finally be mine.”
I shook my head.
Why was it so heavy?
“I don’t believe you.” My neck no longer wanted to hold up my gigantic head.
Maybe I had an allergic reaction where it caused my head to inflate.
I rested my newly gigantic head on the seat, giving my poor neck a break.
“You should, it belonged to the Pirate Queen. Legend has it that she drew blood from the notorious Pirate Hades with it. I want that letter opener. So be a good girl until Jules can take over.”
“Okay, that’s kinda cool,” I admitted. “I did a project on the Pirate Queen in elementary school.”
“So, you’ll behave?” he asked with a tinge of hope in his voice.
I nodded my overly large head, too drunk to speak.
“Good girl.”
The shiver that rippled down my spine had nothing to do with the alcohol coursing through my system.
Note to self, being called a good girl does it for you.
Sweat beaded across my forehead. Heat boiled my blood, and everything I had at the bar must have been scared of the dark because it wanted to see the light.