“Just wondering how something so good could end so bad, that’s all.”
“Word of advice?” He pours two shots and takes one in his hand.
“Sure.” I reach for the other and bring it to my lips, ready to take this shot and be plastered because that is what will happen.
“Anything that good, can never be that bad. And anything that good, will never really be over.”
“How did you know it’s that good?” I ask with a raised brow.
“I’ve seen a lot of broken men in my day—”
“Whoa, hold up. I’m not broken.”
“I know. I was going to say, I’ve seen a lot of broken men in my day, but you aren’t broken. Sure, you’re sad, but you still have something in your eyes that says it isn’t over; you’re just fighting that.”
I slam my glass down and wipe my mouth to get rid of the whiskey on my lips. “Damn, you’re good. Who needs therapy?” I chuckle.
“That’s all bartenders really are these days.” He takes a shot of the four-hundred-dollar whiskey and licks his lips. “Wow. Yeah, I can see what your friend meant. This is so much better.”
“He tends to be right about a lot of things.” I take out my wallet from my back pocket and toss my black American Express card on the counter, something I’m still not used to having.
He whistles when he taps it against the counter. “Damn, I haven’t seen one of these in ages. Tell me, how did you get so rich so young?”
“My friend and I invented a financial services app. It took off; now we’re about to break ground on land to build a headquarters.”
“No shit? Are you guys looking for an accountant or anything?”
“Always are, why? Know someone?”
He scratches his head and gives a smirk. “Me. I have some experience as a tax lawyer, but no one is looking for that.”
“Wait a minute. You’re a lawyer and you work here? Are you kidding me? What the hell happened?” I ask, flabbergasted that this guy is bartending.
He shrugs and pours a draft for someone. “Business went under, and I needed a job. There isn’t much here in Spokane. You know? I bartended in college to work.”
I pull out a business card and hand it over to him. “We won’t be ready for a while. Six months, maybe more, before everything is built. But you could have your own office. We have plenty of work for a lawyer that specializes in money. Send me your resume and salary requirements to that email, and I’ll be in touch.” Damn, saying those words make me feel forty instead of twenty-one.
“Are you serious?” he grips the card, staring at it with confusion, hope, and adoration. “You aren’t playing with me?”
Gosh, he is too young to be so cynical.
I should probably take my own advice.
“Rowan Michaels.” I hold out my hand for a proper introduction. “And I’m very serious.”
“Heath. Damn, man. You might have just changed my life. I have a little girl at home, and she is always with a babysitter at night. I’m missing all the good stuff. I just don’t want the bar scene anymore.”
“You have a daughter? You don’t seem old enough.”
“She’s ten. I had her when I was seventeen. Her mom bailed, signed away all her parental rights,” Heath pours another beer as he talks to me. A multi-tasker—I like that.
“And you went to law school?” I whistle, impressed. Not many men can or would do that and raise a kid at the same time. Shows a lot about his character.
“I had to. I wanted to provide a better life for my daughter, but here I am. Don’t get me wrong; this pays okay. I’m not struggling, but I want more for her. For us. I want to be the dad that can take her to soccer practice and watch her games.”
“You are more than meets the eye, barkeep.” I pour us another shot. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” He tilts his shot back and stuffs my card in his pocket. “You’re going to hear from me very soon.” Heath moves his way down the bar, tossing a white rag over his shoulder as he leans forward and tries to understand what someone is saying.
Damn, he makes me feel like a loser. I know I’m not, but his problems are bigger than mine. I put my wallet back in my pocket after everything is paid and try to walk around the flamingos all over the place, looking for Gray. After stumbling a few times and running into a few girls that wanted more than just my number, I find him.
He’s making out with a blonde chick that looks like she steals cars for a living. I’m sure she doesn’t. I don’t understand it. He is so clean cut, and it surprises me every time when he gravitates toward someone so opposite. Maybe he feels dangerous, like he is running on the wild side, I’m not sure. But his preppy boy appearance, and her badass style, it’s bound to clash, isn’t it? Opposites can only attract for so long until there is a negative reaction.
I sit back down at the bar and turn my back to the rule breaker, when a loud commotion has me swivelling around in my seat again. My eyes bug out as I see a gigantic, biker guy pulling Gray off the blonde girl like he weighs nothing.
Gray slams into the pool table, and I wince. That’s going to leave a mark.
I grab my four-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey again and take a big gulp, watching the scene unfold in front of me. The bar chatter stops as everyone stares at Gray and the big biker man. The music is blaring Queen’s ‘Another One Bites The Dust’, and while I should be worried about what is happening with my friend, I’m more impressed by how perfect this song fits the situation.
The man pushing Gray’s chest towers over Gray, which says something because he is six-two. The biker is packed with muscle, and
