Chapter 5 #2
Her head tilts. “Wow, your compliments just get smoother and smoother.”
“I meant it in a good way,” I say, amused. “You look like someone who earned her exhaustion.”
That softens her. She props her chin on her hand.
“You ever notice how Whynot never changes? I’ve been gone for years, and it’s like I walked back into a paused movie.
With the exception of Morri and Floyd’s antics to spice things up, everything is still trucking along at the same old pace, and people are still gossiping about the same old things. ”
“That’s why I love it.”
“And that’s why I left,” she admits, smiling against the lip of her bottle. “But there’s still something about it that speaks to me. Like right now… I feel more settled here than I have in years. As tired as I am tonight, I feel accomplished.”
“But don’t you feel that way about your work in Washington?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I definitely feel the accomplishment. Like when a long day on Capitol Hill finally goes my way, it’s affirmation that I’m doing the right thing.
But I also feel wired up, always ready for the next battle, and sometimes that wears on me.
But right now… I’m exhausted, yet I feel… settled. Yeah… that’s it.”
“Settled suits you,” I say before I can stop myself. “Not that you need help in looking good.”
She looks at me, quick and curious. “You flirt like a man who’s out of practice.”
“I am,” I confess. “But I’m getting the hang of it again and I bet you find it slightly charming, right?”
She smirks, sips her beer, and stares at me with challenge over the bottle. She’s refusing to acknowledge she’s indeed charmed.
The jukebox kicks on, spinning a song that’s programmed to play if it gets too lonely. It’s supposed to encourage people to spend money to hear more music, but it’s so low, no one’s paying it much attention, other than Penny idly tapping a finger on the bar top.
She carefully scans the room before coming back to me. “So, what about you, Sam? You ever get the itch to do something different?”
I give her a half smile. “Bartending’s not bad.”
“It’s not,” she agrees, “but you’re a smart guy.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I grew up in the same town as you,” she drawls. “We ran in some of the same circles. We went to Sunday school together.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s not enough to know if someone’s smart.”
“You went to Carolina. You’re smart.”
“But it’s not Duke smart.” I glance down at the other customers, note that they’re due for a refill. “Hold your next thought because I can see one brewing in that pretty head. Be right back.”
I quickly refresh their round, then jot a note on the pad for their running tab this evening, since Pap’s register isn’t fancy enough to keep track.
When I return to Penny, I can see she’s geared up to dig into me more. “So come on, then. What’s your deal? You said bartending’s not bad, but you hinted that you’ve got something more interesting going on. Tell me.”
I lift one shoulder, keeping my voice easy. “Maybe I do have something else.”
She narrows her eyes over the rim of her bottle. “You’re hedging, Sam-Pete.”
“Not hedging, Penny Bean.” I lean and cross my arms on the countertop. “Just… private.”
“That’s the same thing.” She leans in, elbow on the bar, lips tugging into a half smile. “You’ve got a secret side hustle, don’t you?”
“Could be.”
“Now you have to tell me.”
“I don’t think Whynot would take kindly to it.”
Her brows go up. “Are you a male escort?”
I laugh, low and surprised. “You wish.”
She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You’d make decent money. There’s a demographic for ‘grumpy bartender with muscles and a pretty face.’”
“Noted for future career planning,” I say. “But no. Nothing that scandalous. Just something people wouldn’t really understand.”
Penny frowns at me. “But… doesn’t that get lonely, not being able to share yourself?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, because it would be nice to have someone other than my agent who understood me on a deeper level. Lord knows it can’t be my family or friends. This town would… well, they’d flip out.
“Lucky for you,” she says with a sly smile, “I’m leaving in a few weeks. You could try it out on me. I’ll take the secret with me to DC.”
That gets me. There’s mischief, sure, but curiosity too—the kind that invites you to lean closer and say things you shouldn’t.
“You really want to know?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’ll never tell another soul?” I prod.
“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” she replies, making the pact motions.
I study her long and hard. She returns such an earnestly genuine look of promise, I roll the dice. “I can’t explain it right now. Instead, I’ve got to show you.”
“Now you’re just baiting me,” she says, but her voice has softened.
“Maybe,” I admit. “But it’s better that way.”
She takes the last sip of her beer, sets the empty down with a small thunk, and looks at me through lashes that still carry a hint of diner fatigue. “Then I guess you’ll have to show me.”
“I’m off tomorrow, so what time should I pick you up?”
“The evening rush is usually over by nine and it will take me about half an hour to close up, so let’s say nine thirty.” She pushes off the stool, slow and loose from exhaustion, the corners of her mouth curving. “And if it turns out you really are a male escort, I reserve the right to laugh.”
“Fair.”
She stretches—arms over her head, blouse pulling tight—and I have to look away before I forget how to be polite.
“Thanks for the beer, bartender,” she says, pulling cash out of her rear jeans pocket, which I know is intended to tip me.
“Put your money away, Penny. It’s no good here.”
She hesitates, then shoves it back in. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Penny taps the counter twice, like a goodbye, and heads for the door. The bell gives a sleepy jingle, then she walks out—back into the heavy honeysuckle Carolina night.
I find myself staring at the empty stool long after she’s gone. I wipe the ring her bottle left on the bar, even though it’s already dry, and I catch myself smiling like an idiot.
Nine thirty tomorrow suddenly feels a damn long way off.