Levi
Ten
Walking into the dim light of Joe’s Bar, I notice two things immediately. One, the crowd of men and women clustering around the long veneer-finish bartop. Two, Brandon waving his hands in the air frantically from a corner booth when he sees me enter through the saloon doors.
What I don’t see is Oakley. I scan my surroundings, looking for any sign of her golden hair, but come up empty. If I find out Justin bullshitted his way into getting me to come out tonight, I’m going to be more than a little pissed off.
Country music thumps through the crackling sound system, the lyrics warbled and indiscernible as the bass pounds through the blown-out speakers.
There’s a small group of twenty-somethings swaying and grinding in the middle of the dance floor to the music.
The liquid in their plastic cups spills over as they move, landing in little puddles on the already sticky floor.
I make my way over to the guys and take a seat, shoving Brandon over to make room for my large frame.
Someone pushes a beer in front of me, and I take a swig, grimacing at the room temperature liquid as it slides down my throat.
I make a note to myself to ask the waitress for a bourbon when she comes back over to the table.
“So glad you deigned to join us!”
Justin’s teasing tone doesn’t irritate me like I expect it to, and maybe that has something to do with the bourbon I indulged in before leaving the house.
Either way, I am in no position to question it, knowing that his particular brand of friendship comes complete with mocking jokes and teasing words.
I know him well enough by now to know that he rarely, if ever, means any offense by it. It’s his way of showing he likes you.
“I haven’t been out in a while. Figured it was about time I make an appearance.” I take another swig of the warm beer.
“We’re glad you’re here, bud,” Isaac says, slurring his words slightly as his glassy eyes peer at me over the rim of his beer bottle. Looks like someone is going all out tonight.
“What happened, Isaac? The wife finally let you out of the cage for the night?” My lips twitch, and a round of raucous laughter circles the table. I lean back in the booth, feeling more like myself with each passing second.
“Oh, fuck you, man.” Isaac punches my shoulder half-heartedly, which earns us another round of laughter before he runs his fingers through his midnight-black curls.
“Tammy took Josie with her to visit her parents for the weekend.” His explanation is accompanied by a shrug, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders.
Isaac is the proudest dad, and he loves that little girl with his whole heart. He keeps a picture of her posted inside the backhoe, her toothy baby face grinning back at him while he works. His relationship with his wife, though…
Look, it’s not my place to judge, but I know it’s only a matter of time before they call it quits.
They’ve known each other since high school, but didn’t get involved until years later.
A drunken one-night stand following their fifteenth reunion led to Tammy pregnant and Isaac shitting his pants.
Josie is two and the absolute light of his life.
She’s had him wrapped around her tiny little finger since the moment he laid eyes on her.
He and Tammy wound up getting married, and it was good for a while, but things went south quickly.
Instead of them growing together, they grew apart.
When Tammy’s not roping Isaac into yet another one of her home projects on the weekends, she spends her time with Josie at her parents’ house three hours away, not bothering to offer for Isaac to come with.
Honestly, it’s fucked. She knows weekends are the only days he gets to see his daughter. I guess he hasn’t found it in him yet to fight her on it. Ever the peacekeeper.
“Flyin’ solo this weekend!” Brandon exclaims, leaning over the table to clink his beer bottle against the side of Isaac’s. God, this guy really is dumber than a box of rocks sometimes. Read the room.
“Yeah,” Isaac mutters before busying himself with the label on the bottle.
A curvy brunette with her tits spilling out the top of her tied-up flannel shirt approaches our table with a small pad of paper and a pen in hand.
She flashes me a red-lined smile. Layla.
We dated briefly in high school, but that came to an abrupt halt when I caught her sucking off a basketball player behind the bleachers after practice.
I made myself perfectly clear that I wanted nothing more to do with her, but it hasn’t stopped her from still trying, even to this day.
“Can I get you boys another round?” Her voice drips with seductive suggestion, but all it does is turn me off—even more than catching her cheating did all those years ago.
She’s gorgeous, there’s no doubt about it, but she knows she is, which, for her, means she thinks she can get away with just about anything.
Her long legs on display in those tight, blue cut-off shorts only remind me of a different pair of legs bent over the center console as Oakley grabbed her bag out of her car last night.
The shape of her firm ass and slim waist, with hips I want to dig my fingertips into and worship on my knees, flashes through my mind.
I quickly banish the image before I start sporting a chubby in the middle of boys’ night.
They’d never let me live it down, and honestly, I wouldn’t either if the roles were reversed.
When did this girl completely ruin my appreciation for anyone that isn’t her? I glance around Layla in search of Oakley again, but my view is cut off by a sea of blue jeans and swaying bodies.
“Yeah, we’ll take another round, gorgeous,” Brandon says, winking at the woman. She ignores him, instead turning her attention to me.
“What about you, handsome? Is there anything else I can get you?” Her subtle emphasis on the word anything offers a night of blissful but forgettable pleasure.
We were good together. It would be easy to fall back into her bed for the night, but I won’t let myself go there.
Beneath this strange desperation for Oakley, there’s the need to figure out who she is at the core of her being.
She strikes me as the type of woman who wouldn’t put up with the typical guy shit, and though she hasn’t given me the slightest indication that she’s interested in me, I don’t want to fuck up my chances to know her. I ignore Layla’s innuendo.
“Bourbon. Neat.”
Her face falls a fraction at my dismissive tone, but she recovers quickly, giving a curt nod of her head and spinning on her heels before hustling off to the bar.
“Sheesh, if you won’t take her home, I will,” Brandon speaks up, grabbing his beer and draining it in one gulp.
“She’s run through over half the guys in town since high school, Brandon. If you still want to shoot your shot, then be my guest. Don’t come crying to me when you catch something.”
“Maybe we should set her up with Isaac instead. Pal looks like he could use a good time,” Justin says.
Isaac waves his left hand in front of Justin’s face. “I’m married, moron.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not like she’s putting out anymore,” Brandon whines, apparently more interested in Isaac’s sex life than his own and once again completely missing the point. I smack him upside the head and he winces, rubbing the back of his head.
“Ow! What the hell, man?”
“Did you miss the part about the contractable STDs? What would your momma think?”
He makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, but grimaces all the same. “You wouldn’t dare.” He sounds downright petrified.
“I think you know by now that I would.”
Layla returns with our drinks and hands them to us without a word.
“Keep ‘em coming.” Brandon shoots a wink at her, and she rolls her eyes before walking away.
I take a sip of the bourbon and glance around the crowded bar.
College kids home for the summer litter the tiny dance floor, and I watch in amusement at their drunken antics.
Guys trying to find someone to go home with at the end of the night, while the girls play hard to get and pretend they’re not interested when really, they’re not fooling anyone.
I sigh and raise the glass to my lips again.
It seems like only yesterday that it was me and the guys doing the same.
Riding the high of the chase after a girl whose name we wouldn’t remember in the morning.
I had my fun, but I don’t miss it, much preferring a chill night out with my buddies over the impending hangover sure to greet the majority of the kids here tonight when they wake up tomorrow morning.
A glimmer of blonde hair catches my attention, and I sit up a little straighter, craning my neck to get a better view.
Something akin to nervous excitement erupts in my stomach as I catch a glimpse of Oakley’s blonde locks from across the bar.
Excitement quickly turns to confusion when she rounds the bartop, smiling warmly at a young man as she takes his order.
Hold up. Since when does she work here? And where did she find the time to get a job? This girl moves fast.
She makes the drink efficiently, chatting and laughing with the guy as she pours what looks like a margarita in a glass and slides it towards him.
He slaps a twenty down on the bartop, taking the drink with him as he walks away.
She makes his change, smiling to herself when she sees he’s walked away.
Dropping the generous tip into the tip jar, she moves on to the next patron in line, listening attentively over the roar of the music and chatter.
Before I know it, I’m up from the booth, ignoring the guys’ questioning protests as I make my way to the bar.
I nudge aside two men who are making a beeline for an open spot and slide onto the stool with ease.
Oakley hands the woman in front of her a beer and turns with a smile, freezing when she sees me sitting in front of her.
“It’s you,” she says, a soft smile on her face and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She pulls the towel out of the back pocket of her jeans and wipes down the bar in front of me before returning it, placing a cocktail napkin down in front of me.
“It’s you.”
“What can I get you?”
“How did it go with the building manager this morning?” I ask, brushing off her question with a cock of my eyebrow.
She hesitates for a split second before answering, and the look in her eyes confuses me for a moment before it’s gone.
The dim yellow light from overhead makes her eyes appear dark and mysterious, only heightening her natural allure.
“It went well. I’m all settled in.” She busies herself with wiping the bartop again, letting her hair fall in a curtain between us. “Pick your poison.”
“My—what?” The change in topic, coupled with the fact that I’ve been staring at that hair and trying like hell to see through to what she hides beneath it, catches me off guard.
She gestures to the bottles behind her.
“What are you drinking?” Her voice is soft and feminine, sliding over my skin like the caress of cool lake water in the peak of summer.
“Bourbon, neat, please.”
Something shifts in her expression, but she turns away before I can examine it further, pulling a bottle off the shelf and pouring two fingers into the glass that she sets in front of me.
She pushes the drink towards me, and I pull out my wallet, thumbing through the bills and grabbing a fifty.
I toss it down on the counter, and she makes my change, placing it on the counter for me.
“So you’re all settled. That must feel nice after yesterday.”
She nods and lets out a long breath, her flushed cheeks puffing out in a look that should be juvenile, but instead makes her look all the more enticing. I wonder what those lips would look like wrapped around my—
No. I promise I’m not one of those guys that only thinks with their dick. Usually. Something about her intrigues the fuck out of me, though.
“Got some cleaning and shopping done this morning, too. A clean slate always feels nice.”
“Looks like you’ve been busy.” I gesture to the bar around us, indicating the fact that she's only been in town one full day and already landed a job. She waves a dismissive hand.
“Yeah, I need a job if I’m gonna have any hope of keeping up with the rent payments.
I actually didn’t even come in here looking for a job, but the owner overheard me talking to someone at the bar about any job openings and offered it on the spot.
I don’t think my coworker likes me very much, though. ”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s nothing. She didn’t seem too happy about having to train me, but I have tons of experience as a waitress. Though, this is my first time behind the bar. It’s a little daunting if I’m being honest.”
“Nah. You’re a natural.” I give her a reassuring grin. “You fit right in here. Besides, you look like you can hold your own.”
I watch the walls come up around her as she considers my compliment before giving me a shy smile. “Thanks.” She glances to the end of the bar where a group of guys wave her down. Not needing more than that, I knock my knuckles once on the sticky bartop before standing from my seat.
“I’ll see you around, Oakley.”
“Bye, Levi.” She’s gone in a flurry of billowing flannel and swinging hips.
I watch her for a moment as she leaves, my thoughts centering not on the words she said, but the ones she didn’t. There’s more to her than meets the eye. That much was obvious right from the start.
But that’s the thing about puzzles.
You can stare at the pieces all you like. But until you fit them together? Only then will you actually know what you’re looking at.
It’s not only her words that are the pieces, but the emotions she wears blatantly on her sleeve, whether she means to or not. I’m determined to figure her out, one piece at a time.
When she makes her way over to the untouched glass of bourbon, she pauses and, with shaking fingers, picks up the tip I left on the counter for her. She stares down at the bills in her hand for a moment before discreetly tucking them into her back pocket.
Attagirl.
That tip wasn’t meant for anyone but her, and she knows it.
I spend the rest of the night laughing with the guys, switching to water when Layla comes back around. The familiar buzz of alcohol sets a low fire in my veins and muddles my thoughts.
This is the fine line I walk. I’ve witnessed first hand what the bottle can do to a person, and I have absolutely no interest in becoming my father.
In my heart, I know I could never be anything like him, despite sharing his last name, but deep down inside of me, there’s the scared little boy who knows that all it would take is one too many to bring out the beast inside of me.
Still, another small part of me wonders if the buzz is a result of the alcohol or of her.