“Oh right, you and I were King and Queen of Atlantis.”
Eric smirks, “Total fact.”
“We fucked that job up pretty badly.”
“Magical storm brought our city to its knees.”
“Drowning all of our subjects.”
He nods, somber. “It was a tragic day for all of us.”
“At least we went down with them,” I smile, genuinely wishing I could stay right here. But the longer I do the more I want to, and I’m not that kind of a girlfriend. He senses the shift in me, hazel eyes losing some of their light as I reluctantly say, “I really have to go, Eric. But it was fun running into you.”
Gripping his basket with tighter knuckles he nods to the ground. “I’ll see ya around.”
“Yeah. See ya,” I smile, pushing my cart away.
“At the registers in three minutes?”
Laughter bubbles up despite my best efforts to remain detached. “I have some more shopping to do, so this will be our last run-in.”
“Too bad. Okay, see ya.”
Sneaking a peek over my shoulder I watch him disappear. A long exhale relaxes my stationary body as I pick up crumbled feta cheese and place it alongside the avocados it’s meant for. They are hard when you first buy them. Give them some time though and they soften. Not unlike me around Eric Cocker.
CHAPTER 11
WREN
“C an I get three Creature Comforts beers and one Red Brick Hoplanta?” a guy in a polo shirt and khaki shorts asks me over the rock playlist.
In the midst of hastily making two previous drink orders I nod, “You got it!” and push myself to move faster. I love Friday night shifts, because there’s nothing else I think about except this when I’m working. It’s like meditation. My mind is two steps ahead and doesn’t have time to wallow, wondering why the movie I saw with Peter yesterday wasn’t followed by dinner and sex. We just went home separately. Too fucking weird.
While I slam empty mugs on the drip tray I’m planning ahead how I’ll scoop ice into two bucket glasses, reach behind me to the bottom shelf for the rum. As soon as I’m done, I’m already grabbing the simple syrup, pouring the perfect amount so the cocktail is balanced, then flashing to flip the colorful faucet handles the craft beer companies provided to advertise what we have on tap, so that the mugs don’t overflow. Handing them off, I garnish the cocktails and flip around to the fridge where I grab bottles, fish the opener from the chain in my pocket, and pop their tops off, caps flying to be picked out of the holes in the rubber floor-mats later.
All of this happens in mere seconds. Most patrons are impressed, but some will never be. I don’t do it for them. I do it for me. If I’m going to be a bartender for a living, I’m going to be the best damn bartender you have ever seen.
Mike is the same way.
That’s why we’re a good team.
Glancing over when I hear my name I see him jerking his chin up. “Toss me the blue curaçao!”
Flashing to grab it off the bottom shelf behind me, I hook my index finger around the top of the bottle and fling it to him. He snatches it from the air and I tell the guys who order the beer. “Need a card to keep the tab open.” To the girls who wanted a second round of mojitos I confirm, “And you I’ve got under Bennett, right?”
The sultry brunette nods, “Wow you’re so quick!”
On a proud grin I say, “Thanks! Enjoy your drinks,” snatching up their empty glasses to give the new ones room.
But she doesn’t budge. “Aren’t you the girl who had sex with Eric Cocker in the bathroom?”
The glasses go crashing to the floor. Every time you break something, heads turn. Our bar-back comes running and Mike locks eyes with me because we don’t have time to clean up shards right now.
“It get in the ice?” he shouts over the noise.
“No, I just picked them up. Hadn’t gotten there yet.”
“Thank God.”
To Bitch Bennett I grumble, “Wow, you really said that out loud didn’t you? That takes some balls.” There’s a snotty challenge in her eyes, so I retrieve their drinks. “Get the hell out of here.”
Furious and entitled she barks, “You can’t kick me out!”
“Hell I can’t!” Pointing to the sign I read it aloud. “We reserve the right to not serve idiots.” I tilt my head. “See that?” I slam her credit card on the counter. “That’s you. Now leave.”
Her eyes flash and she announces to her two girlfriends and anyone else who’s listening, “She’s kicking us out because she had sex here with Eric Cocker in a public restroom, and I called her on it!”
Oh.
My.
Fuck.
No.
Way.
In.
Hell.
Am.
I.
Letting.
This.
Bitch.
Ruin.
My.
Reputation.
Scooping a fistful of ice in my hand I climb up and over the bar, grab her shirt, pull it open and drop every cube down in there. She yelps, long fingernails snapping to attention before she claws the tucked part out, dropping the ice to the gooey floor.
But I’m not done yet.
I stand on the bar, clapping my hands as loud and slow as I can, demanding attention. “EVERYONE LISTEN UP.” Mike turns off the music. The place goes quiet. “Alright, who here thinks I had sex with Eric Cocker in the woman’s bathroom?”
Almost everyone raises their hands
I should be surprised but I’m not.
Atlanta is the biggest small town around.
I’m pissed. “Just so we’re clear I never touched the man. I have a boyfriend. It may have looked like something went down and I’m sure y’all would love to believe it did since he’s got one hell of a reputation! But mine is solid. We clear? No, don’t start mumbling. I’m telling the truth. You know what, he’s not even that attractive!”
Oof.
Didn’t mean to say that.
I was reaching for straws.
The crowd instantly boos and shouts that I’m crazy.
Eric steps onto a bar stool by the heavily
