by Dani McLean
“I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”
“You could be right. But you should think about it. I know you’re not her biggest fan, but she knows what she’s doing. I could see that, and I barely even know what I was doing. Considering what you’re like, I thought you’d pounce on her.”
His phrasing was unfortunate. “I’m not denying she’s a skilled worker. And I,” I paused, “can admit that I may have judged her unfairly before I came here. I should have given you more credit than to assume you could be walked over like that.”
“Yes, you should have. But I appreciate you saying that. And you know,” I already hated what was coming, “you should give her a second chance. She works harder than anyone else at that bar.” A fact I’d already observed. “Except maybe you.”
“We’re nothing alike,” I said, beating him to whatever conclusion he was about to get to next.
“Sure.” He sounded unconvinced. I banished the possibility from my mind. It would only complicate matters that were already complicated enough.
But dammit, he was right. I needed someone who knew what we were up against and who I wouldn’t have to worry about undermining the bar’s interests. I might dread working in proximity with Tiffany, but as long as I maintained a professional distance, perhaps it wouldn’t end in complete disaster.
9
Tiff
I was back in Sam’s office before the end of the night, half expecting another comment about how he was “in the middle of something,” but instead, he motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk, removing his glasses with a (somewhat worryingly) serious look on his face.
“Tiffany, thank you for coming.” Like he’d summoned me. Seriously, what was with this guy?
“Ok, what is going on? You’re acting weirder than normal.”
I watched him blink. Geez, not even a smile? Tough crowd.
“Firstly, I wanted to apologize for not taking your advice about Riley.”
Had I accidentally entered an alternate reality? “Alright, what did you smoke, and do I need to call a hospital?”
His eyes narrowed in exasperation (which was so much more normal that I actually felt relieved), but did I spy a hint of a smile? Granted, it was gone before it really appeared, but damn, that felt like a win in a way I wasn’t expecting.
If I ever made him actually smile, I might pass out with surprise.
“Alright. You might as well get it out of your system now because I have a serious matter to discuss.”
Oh, right. I forgot that Sam didn’t have a sense of humor.
“My apologies,” I said, sarcasm in full force. “Is this an official staff briefing? Should I be taking minutes? First order of business.” I mimed flipping a notebook open. “Regarding the matter of the firing of Miss Riley Williams, the head bartender states, and I quote, I told you so.”
There was that flicker again. Damn, almost got him.
Sure, I could try not to be so antagonizing to him, and I wasn’t about to consider why I even enjoyed doing it in the first place, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Yes, thank you, Tiffany.”
I chuckled at his dry tone, although dammit, no. This wasn’t meant to be fun. He was an ass.
Fixing my face into something more neutral, I said, “Fine. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Can I take it that you’re familiar with the bar trade here?”
Did he seriously just ask me that? Without words, I expressed my best form of “what do you think?” and from his nod, I could tell he understood.
He drummed his fingers against the desk. He had nice hands with broad palms and long fingers. They were constantly reaching out, I’d noticed. Raking through his hair, scratching his beard, running along the seam of his lips when he was deep in thought. Considering the very careful distance he maintained between us, he appeared incredibly tactile. What the hell was I doing even noticing, though?
Jesus, I needed my head checked.
“I am man enough to admit that, despite my experience, I’m a little out of the loop when it comes to the local culture and expectations here. If I have any hope of rejuvenating this bar successfully, then I need to understand what will and won’t play in this market, and that will require the expertise of someone familiar with it.”
I had a bad fucking feeling about this.
And yet …
He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t have any experience with what he was used to over in Vegas, but I could imagine what the bars there were like, and nothing would play worse in Chicago than dollar shots and hurricanes.
There was a deep sense of pride where alcohol was concerned and a hell of a lot of egos.
It didn’t surprise me that he’d recognized that, but I was (regretfully) surprised that he’d admitted he needed help. Guilt was not a feeling I enjoyed.
I was aware that he was waiting for me to comment. “That’s probably a good idea. People here are …” how to say this nicely? “a bit picky about these sorts of things.”
“Glad you agree. Now, I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the best foot, but I think when it comes to what is best for the bar, we’re both capable of acting like adults in order to make this work.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up there. What makes you think I want to help?”
“You don’t?”
I’d definitely slipped into an alternate reality. “Why do you even want my opinion?”
“Because you know what I’m dealing with. What we’re dealing with. I have to believe, Tiffany, that you want this bar to be as much of a success as I do. If we have any hope of doing that, we’ll need to put aside our differences.”
“I’m not going to be your yes man.”
How was it that he could make a simple head tilt look so annoyed?
“And you’re going to have to, you know, actually listen to me,” I added.
“I understand that.”
“Because I know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I believe I already mentioned that earlier.”
“And I’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Tiffany.” The exasperation in his voice triggered my urge to smile, but I held back, still unsure of whether I even wanted to agree to help.
I took a deep breath, considering. My instincts were all over the place. On the one hand, it made sense, and what did I even have to lose (apart from all the time I would have to spend with him. Just because he could admit to needing help, it didn’t change all the other times he’d irritated me. Working together would likely be a nightmare.) On the other hand, the idea that the bar would change into something so unrecognizable that it became a flop broke my heart.
Without meaning to, I’d dedicated the last four years of my life to this bar, and I’d come to care about it deeply.
“I’d like to think it over.”
“Of course.” Ugh. He really needed to start being less accommodating. I might go and do something ridiculous such as start liking him.
“Just for the record, this doesn’t mean I like you.” There. That should stop me from getting any dumb ideas.
Unfortunately, the bastard actually smirked. Fucking smirked.
“The feeling is mutual.”
10
Tiff
I was on my third cup of coffee by the time Audrey knocked on my door. I’d finally convinced her to start wedding planning. Despite my own reservations about the institution, it was easy to find the excitement for my best friend.
After all that she’d been through in her last marriage and the rollercoaster that had been the start of her relationship with Jackson, she deserved nothing less than unicorns and glitter.
She was, without a doubt, my favorite person in the world and the exact thing I needed to forget the buzzing thoughts that had been keeping me up lately.
As usual, she was bright and cheerful, although when I saw who was standing behind her, I had a better idea of why.
“I didn’t real
ize this had become a group activity,” I said, eyeing her fiancé.
Audrey, god bless her, actually looked worried. “Is this ok?”
“Just don’t start inviting me to your little double date brunches,” I said, adding a wink, and her smile returned.
“Come in, pretty boy, before your groupies start swarming my apartment.”
Jackson wrapped me in a hug before I could protest. “Thanks for letting me crash your morning. Filming kicks off next week, so I’m trying to get as much time with Audrey as possible.”
They were cute. Too cute, honestly. It made me simultaneously yearn and groan. “Ugh, fine. As long as you keep the PDA to a minimum. There’s not enough coffee in the world to help me through that.” It didn’t come out anywhere near like the threat it should have since I’m smiling too widely.
“Yeah, yeah. You love me, really.”
I only scoffed in response. He was right, but I’d never tell him that.
“Did we miss Hannah? I brought her the bottle of MacMillan’s she was asking about.” Audrey placed the bottle of rum on my kitchen counter.
“Ah, no. She’s at her place this weekend.” I’d been aiming for casual, but judging from the awkward silence that filtered through the apartment, I’d missed the mark.
We made ourselves comfortable on the couch, and I could tell they wanted to ask me about it. Jackson tapped a finger on the armrest, his back so straight I was getting an ache just looking at him. Audrey, fitting perfectly into the space beside him, reached a hand out towards me. “Everything ok with you two? We can talk about it if you want. The wedding stuff can wait.”
It was a sweet gesture. And although I wasn’t in the mood to rehash the entire thing, there was comfort in having them here. It wasn’t as if Hannah and I weren’t trying to work it out on our own anyway. Bringing it up wouldn’t solve anything.
“Everything’s fine. And don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, trying to avoid this.” I motioned to the stack of wedding magazines she’d brought with her.
She grumbled. “Fine. But no favors.”
“Yes, I remember from the three thousand times you’ve told me.”
We each take a magazine, flipping through them and calling out when something caught our eye. Most of what I was looking at was a little too staged for my taste, and I could tell Audrey felt the same from the way she was working her bottom lip and sighing into Jackson’s shoulder.
Eventually, I got tired of wading through pages of models in wedding dresses, and I threw the magazine onto the coffee table. “There has to be a better way to do this. How much do you really need to figure out anyway?”
“You’d be surprised.” Audrey closed the magazine in her lap with a sigh. “I’d forgotten how many decisions you needed to make for these things. Photographers, hair, makeup—”
“One of the crew might be able to help with that,” Jackson interjected. “Or I can find out who Sarah used.”
She passed him a quick smile in thanks before continuing, already sounding stressed. “Then there’s the venue, whether we want to sit down or stand up, how many guests we’ll have, what speeches we want, the music, the cake …”
“Why are you doing this again?” I joked.
“Don’t worry,” Jackson said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “We have plenty of time to figure it all out.” Audrey twisted on the couch to cuddle deeper into the embrace, and my eyes slipped down to the floor.
After another beat, Jackson asked, “Do you and Hannah ever talk about this stuff? I know you aren’t the biggest fan of the ‘M’ word.” There was no judgment in the statement, which I appreciated.
Nodding, I said, “We have. She knows how I feel about it, and I know that she wants to be married someday.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll change your mind.” He stroked a wayward hair behind Audrey’s ear, watching her lovingly. “Sometimes it just takes meeting the right person.”
“Maybe for everyone else, but I’m not going to change my mind on this.”
“How does Hannah feel about that?”
I took a deep breath, taking a long look at the ceiling as I rolled the question around in my head. Hannah and I were in a weird holding pattern at the moment, one where I wasn’t sure what the future looked like. The last time we’d talked about it, she’d made the same comment Jackson had, potentially hoping I’d change my mind if we ever made it that far.
Now, I was beginning to wonder if our opposing views weren’t another sign that we’d never get far enough for her to find out.
“She’d prefer it if I felt differently,” I said, working my way around how I wanted to say it. Ripping the bandaid off had rarely failed in me in the past. “Honestly, even if I wanted to, I don’t know that I can see it with Hannah. I thought I’d feel more by now. And if it isn’t love, what are we doing?”
“You’re having fun, seeing where things go. It doesn’t have to be forever right now. Just take it at your own pace.” Audrey picked up her mug only to find it empty, and Jackson immediately stood, offering to replace it. He ducked down to steal a kiss from Audrey, and their easy intimacy caused a spike of jealousy within me.
As a highly capable, secure, functioning adult, I enjoyed being alone. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t also enjoy the fantasy of a “someone” in my life who felt as integral to my existence as these two so obviously did about each other.
“No relationship works from the start,” Jackson said, pouring another cup. My apartment was small enough that there really wasn’t any delineation between the couch and the kitchen (everything was probably five steps away at all times and the whole place was about ten in total). But it had character, and I could live alone on my salary and still save, and that’s all I cared about. Jackson wiped a spot on the counter (such a polite boy). “Maybe it’s good that you’re going through a rough patch now.”
“Exactly,” Audrey continued, following his lead. “If you can work this out, then you know you two can make it work long term.”
Is that all I needed to do? Push through this? I didn’t have enough experience to judge what was worth accepting and what I should stand firm on.
“You know me, Auds. I know I’m not built for the same type of happily ever after most people go for. But forever—or commitment,” I correct, “still matters. And it should be something I’m certain about. Someone I’m certain about.”
Jackson returned to Audrey’s side. “So, you do want something serious? I just assumed …”
I knew what he assumed. What everyone assumed. “Hell, yes. Eventually. And with the right person. Who doesn’t want to wake up next to someone who’s sweet when you’re sad, values your mind, and looks at you like they can’t believe they got so lucky?”
Audrey smiled at her fiancé. “Sounds perfect.”
Ugh, they were so cute I couldn’t even be mad at the blatant lovefest. I should have known this was bound to happen as soon as I let Jackson inside. But it gave me the opportunity to slip into the kitchen and get another coffee. My blood levels were roughly seventy percent caffeine at this point.
“Alright, enough of this,” I said as I dropped back onto the couch. “That’s twice now you’ve changed the subject so that you could avoid planning this wedding. I swear, the two of you are impossible. Maybe we should start with something simple. Like the date.”
Jackson hummed, considering. “I’d prefer not to be working, so that kind of rules out the rest of this year.”
Beside him, Audrey sat up, surprised. “Even if it didn’t, I would. What happened to not rushing the engagement?”
He pulled her back in with an arm around her waist. “It’s not rushing when I already know I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.” They came together for a long, sweet kiss.
“What did I say about PDA!” I protected my mug while I playfully nudged Audrey’s leg with my foot. She pulled out of the kiss with a laugh.
“How’s Sam?”
I should have
been happy about a change in subject. And I would have, had the subject not been that.
“Still an ass, thanks for asking.” My foot started nervously tapping on the floor, and I stilled it. “He uh, asked me if I wanted to work with him on fixing up the bar. Said he needed someone with experience with the local market.” God, he was such a snob. “I told him I’d think about it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“You mean, apart from the fact that he’s a smug son of a bitch and I hate him?”
Audrey threw her head back. “You don’t hate him.”
“Like hell, I don’t.”
“Tiff, I’ve known you long enough now to know when you really hate someone.”
I counted on my fingers. “He’s arrogant, smug, cocky—”
“I’m pretty sure those are all the same,” Jackson cut in.
I kept going, “---stubborn, opinionated, acts like he knows everything.”
Audrey thought it was hilarious, of course. “You two are like peas in a pod, no wonder you don’t get along.”
I groaned. “Don’t say that. I’m nothing like him.”
“Sure.”
Jackson shrugged. “It is his bar. Maybe you should work with him.”
“I should just quit, then he’d be sorry.”
“Why don’t you?”
That stopped me in my tracks. Despite Audrey being my best friend, I’d been keeping my recent inklings to myself. The whole time I’d known her, I’d worked at The Basement. And while I knew she would be supportive, she was also the most planned and put-together person I knew. Would she understand it if I told her that I was starting to get fidgety just because I’d been in one place for too long?
That I was close to making a ridiculous, completely left-field decision with no planning and no direction because of a feeling?
When I was quiet for an uncharacteristic amount of time, Audrey asked, “If you did quit, what would you do? Go work somewhere else?”