****
Before returning to the bar floor, Rosie leaned against the hallway wall and massaged her aching temples. You’d think, after Eddie just poked her most sensitive sore spot, she’d be able to let go of feeling so damn sorry for him. But his gift rested in her pocket, pressing against her ass the way his hands had just two nights ago. She imagined them standing hip to hip in the bar, hands tucked into each other’s back pockets, not bothering to hide their attraction. But that was never gonna happen. Might as well let go of pointless dreams.
She fluffed her hair, lifted her chest, and strutted to the bar. “Back from break.”
At the servers’ station, Lana tapped her fingers on the bar while Kiara filled her order. Jojo hovered behind Lana, toying with the tips of her two long pigtails, a sappy grin on his face. She tugged them from his grip and shooed him like a pesky puppy. “Cut it out, Jojo. Don’t you have work to do?”
Poor giant, he looked so dejected as he trudged back to his workstation. Rosie nudged her friend. “He’s totally crushing on you.”
“Pffsh. He’s just being annoying. Does that to all the girls, right?” Lana nodded toward Rosie’s section. “That high-top wants three Coronas and six tequila shots. And there’s two ladies asking for you by the pool tables.”
“That’s Charlie’s section.”
Lana shrugged. “They asked for you, though. Charlie won’t mind.”
“Thanks, doll.” Rosie patted her best friend’s ass, delivered the beers and tequilas, then swung by the pool tables in search of the two mystery ladies. Spotting them, she sucked in a breath, whispered, “Holy shit,” then pasted on a smile. “Ma, what are you doing here?”
Her mother angled her head and tapped her cheek. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”
Rosie pecked as ordered. “I’m glad to see you, of course, just surprised.”
“You remember my friend Betty from school?”
The fifty-something woman in a Stadium High School hoodie extended her hand. “My goodness, Rosie. Haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hi, Ms. Watson.” Rosie glanced around nervously. No sign of Eddie—not that he had any idea what her mom looked like. And it wasn’t unusual to see patrons her mom’s age in Bangers, especially for trivia night, karaoke, and sports games on TV. None of those were happening tonight, though.
Her former English teacher patted Rosie’s shoulder. “You’re looking well, hon’. Still making art?”
“Absolutely. What can I get you?”
“Cider for me.” Betty’s head snapped to the right. “Scuze me a minute, girls. Gotta say hi to my neighbor’s son.” She hopped off her stool and disappeared into the crowd.
Rosie propped her tray on her hip. “Seriously, Ma, what are you doing here?”
She shifted on her stool. “Listen, I felt bad about yesterday. I should’ve cut your sister off as soon as she started bad-mouthing this place.”
And my tattoos? And my career plans? And my life in general? Rosie forced her scowl into a neutral expression. “That would’ve been nice.”
Ma’s soft hand grasped hers. “It’s hard to see your kid go in a direction you fear may bite her in the ass. But you’re a grown woman, and it’s not my place to—”
“Rosie, is that you?”
She spun and came face to chest with Eddie’s mom, a fuzzy knit beret twisted in her hands, her head tilted like a worried puppy. What is this, Moms’ night out? She’d never seen Alina Volkov in the bar. Then again, tiny as she was, Alina was easy to overlook in the crowd.
“My goodness,” Alina squeaked, her nervous fingers tapping her own chest. “Such a big tattoo.”
Ma snorted. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. How many now, Rosie?”
“Mama?” a strangled voice called from the bar, followed by a crash.
“Eddie!” With remarkable speed, Alina darted toward the bar, her long coat flapping behind her, Rosie hot on her heels.
At the end of the bar, a red-faced Eddie clutched the jagged remains of a half-gallon bottle. A puddle of clear liquid spread among the glass shards at his feet. Gin, by the smell of it. Scarlet drops fell from his fist and plopped into the puddle.
“My boy, you’re hurt,” Alina wailed. She unwound her scarf and lunged for Eddie’s wounded hand.
“Mama, stop. You’ll ruin your nice scarf.”
“Here.” Rosie’s mom chugged up and pulled a packet of tissues from her purse. “Apply pressure.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Alina patted Mom’s shoulder. “Baby, do what she says.”
By now, a crowd had gathered, drawn by the commotion.
“Okay, okay, let’s back off, folks.”
Rosie exchanged a panicked glance with Eddie. Of all the shitty times for the boss to make an appearance. Dawn must’ve been working in her office, since the doc forbade her from working behind the bar, her usual spot on a busy Saturday night.
“Go on, now.” Dawn shooed the customers away, then planted her fists on her well-padded hips. “Holy cow, Eddie. You trying to stab someone?” She pried the jagged remains of the bottle from his hand, then opened his fist. “There now, that’s not so bad. Fingertips bleed like a mother, don’t they? Go wash it up, kiddo.”
Eddie groaned. “Sorry, boss. I heard my mother’s voice, and when I turned to look, I must’ve hit that.” He pointed a bloody finger to the iron railing that kept customers from crowding the server’s station.
“This is your mama?” Dawn removed her Seahawks cap and patted her short gray locs. Her wide smile bunched her tawny, freckled cheeks. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Volkov. Welcome to Bangers. We’ll get Eddie bandaged up. Let me find you a table.”
“She can sit with me.” Rosie’s mother hooked her arm through Alina’s and tugged her away, throwing a sharp backward glance at Rosie.
River popped around the corner holding a string mop and bucket. “I’ll take care of this.”
“That’s my job,” Eddie protested.
“Shut up and wash up,” Dawn snapped. “First aid kit’s in the staff bathroom.” She softened her tone and patted his shoulder. “Then go comfort your mother. Looks like you ’bout
