Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  Blaine grabbed the blank application from the bar and handed it to me. “So, um, just fill that out, and someone should give you a call,” he mumbled without looking at me. Then, without further explanation, he turned and disappeared through a door a few feet away.

  Mick frowned at Blaine’s retreating back, and the guilt crept back in, making the exhilaration I felt just moments ago go up in a puff of smoke. Of course, he must’ve seen our flirting. Assuming he was the boss, he surely wouldn’t want his bartender canoodling with a potential employee.

  I filled out the form, although I didn’t have high hopes of getting the position. I knew that it was definitely for the best. I had vowed to never get involved with a coworker again, and a part of me, a part mostly comprised of hormones, was already very much involved with Blaine.

  I chalked up that whole experience as being the last time I would see the scary-beautiful bartender. And that thought bothered me more than it should.

  Chapter 3

  We were just sitting down to eat takeout sushi when our home phone rang. It was odd since hardly anyone called the house. Usually it was reserved for random parental calls which none of us received more than once or twice a month. Angel rolled her eyes and went to grab it, figuring she was due for a judgment-laced talk from Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy. I shot her a sympathetic look when she answered. However, when she paused after her greeting, her brows shot up with excitement - a reaction that would definitely not accompany a call from her parents.

  “Guess what, losers?” she giggled, after hanging up with the mystery caller and rejoining us on the couch. “AngelDust just got invited for an exclusive audition at Dive! I guess a ton of other acts were inquiring about the steady weekend slot, so they’re holding live tryouts this Friday. Only two other bands were invited!”

  “Oh wow! That’s great, Angel!” I beamed, dropping my chopsticks and giving her a hug. “So, um, that was, um, Blaine or…”

  “Oh no, that wasn’t your badass, boy-toy bartender. That was Mick. I’m guessing he runs the place and wanted to invite us personally.”

  I fought the frown creeping onto my face. “So…he didn’t want to speak with me? About the job?”

  “Oh shit, Kam! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask!” She squeezed my arm in apology before grabbing a tray of edamame. “I’m sure he’ll get around to calling you.”

  I nodded, hoping she was right. It had been three days since I applied and, with each passing day, I grew more restless. I knew it was stupid to feel so anxious; I had pretty much written off any opportunity at Dive after my careless flirting with Blaine. Still, I couldn’t deny the fact that I hadn’t stopped thinking of him.

  The reality was, I wasn’t the type to act recklessly. I wasn’t impulsive or spontaneous, and I was cautious to a fault. To the point of insanity. I couldn’t risk a wrong turn. I couldn’t do anything to bring undue attention to myself. And to blatantly pursue a guy like Blaine could be dangerous to me and my already delicate rationality.

  We had just finished our sushi feast and were sitting cross-legged on the carpet, watching Modern Family when I heard my cell phone ringing a couple feet away. Dom reached over and grabbed it for me while I lounged on the floor, my head nestled in his lap. This was the norm for us. Affection between the three of us was effortless, yet next to impossible with anyone outside our circle.

  “Hello?” I answered, chuckling into the phone, my eyes still glued to the screen.

  “Hi,” replied a voice dripping with sensuality.

  I shot up like someone had lit a match under my ass, smacking Dom in the face in the process. “Hi,” I squeaked.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His voice was deep, and slightly raspy with just a touch of southern drawl. Just as I had remembered.

  “You’re not.” Ok, I said that way too fast. I scrambled to my feet, mouthing a half-hearted apology, and dashed to my room, earning more than a few sideways glances from my roommates.

  “I wanted to tell you that you got the job. If you want it.”

  “Oh?” There was more than just a trace of surprise in my voice. “Really? Um, wow.”

  “You sound shocked.”

  “I…I am. I didn’t think… I mean, I only made one drink for you.”

  “It was a really good drink,” he replied with a sexy seriousness that made my tummy quiver.

  I swallowed the whimper in my throat. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. So…do you want it?”

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” I had to wonder if we were still talking about the bartending position.

  “Good.” Blaine was quiet for a long beat, and I imagined him rolling that barbell between his full lips. I listened for the clink of metal against his teeth. “Can you start Wednesday afternoon? I’ll be training you. Is that ok?”

  “Sounds good.” More than good. “Anything else I should know? What should I wear?”

  “We’ve got t-shirts with Dive’s logo on it. I’ll give you a few. Anything for the bottom. Except, um, skirts.”

  “Oh. Are skirts against the dress code policy?”

  I heard him suck in a breath. “No. They are just very…distracting. On you. You distract me.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Oh, hell. I was flirting. No, no, no. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Not when it came to him.

  “Depends.”

  “Depends?” I said in my best innocently naughty voice.

  “If I distract you too.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, and the growing silence was shifting from nervous to awkward. Of course he distracted me. He had distracted my thoughts ever since I walked into Dive teary-eyed and mournful three weeks ago. But there was no way I could tell him that.

  “Ok, well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  “Yeah. Goodnight, Kami.”

  “Goodnight, Blaine.”

  I held the phone to my chest after swiping the OFF button, then looked up to find a smirking Angel leaning against my doorframe. I was so busted.

  ***

  “So, Kami, how have you been since our last visit?”

  I nodded, fidgeting with a loose thread on my tank top. “Good.”

  “Good? So no irrational fears or meltdowns?”

  I frowned at the grey-clad psychiatrist sitting across from me. Good shrinks were so hard to find, and this was my third since moving to Charlotte. I felt like I could do without them, but Dom was insistent to the point of demanding.

  “Why do my fears need to be irrational?” I snapped.

  Dr. Evelyn Cole raised a brow and scribbled a note on her pad. “Do you think your fears are rational?”

  “I think they’re understandable considering…I’m not saying they’re altogether healthy, but I don’t think they are irrational. I don’t put anyone in danger with them.”

  Dr. Cole scribbled another note. “You don’t put yourself in danger?”

  I looked at her incredulously. “Of course not. If anything, I am careful to a fault.”

  “By isolating yourself.”

  “I don’t isolate myself. I just keep a certain distance from people in order to remain…safe. There are things people do not need to know about me. If they did, I’d be alone anyway.”

  “And Kenneth? Is that why you broke it off with him? Because he was getting too close?”

  “Kenneth let himself fall for someone who is incapable of love. I told him not to. I warned him that I couldn’t get serious with him or anybody else. He wanted more of me than I was willing to give. More than I can give him or anybody else.”

  Dr. Cole chewed the end of her pen and puckered her brows. “And you think by holding back, by making yourself emotionally unavailable, that you are protecting yourself? That your…episodes won’t be an issue?”

  “That’s exactly what I am doing,” I murmured, yanking the thread on my shirt and snapping it. I took a deep breath and dropped my chin to my chest. “If Kenneth knew just how damaged I really am, just how neurotic my past has
made me, he wouldn’t stay. He’d call me crazy and abandon me. And he’d be justified to do so. I am doing him a favor. He doesn’t need someone like me bogging him down with a laundry list of issues.”

  “And how do you know he’ll run? How do you know he won’t stay with you in spite of your fears?”

  I looked the psychiatrist dead in her eyes with all the conviction I could muster. “Well…that’s the one risk I am willing to take.”

  After leaving my weekly appointment, I headed straight to Dive for my first day of training. Of course, this wasn’t a coincidence. I had purposely scheduled my visit with the good doctor to precede my first day of work to help combat the anxiety. But once I spied the marquee as I pulled into the parking lot, I felt ill. Clammy palms, mouth as dry as sand and heartbeat heading into dangerous territory.

  “Oh no, not here. Not now. I can do this. I have to do this.” But even my inner monologue wasn’t convincing.

  I counted down from ten, desperately trying to psyche myself up enough to leave the safety of my vehicle. I had worked plenty of jobs before without severe incident. I had played the role of a normal, sane young woman for many years and had succeeded for the most part. There had been hiccups. There had been roadblocks. But I survived them. I had my friends to help me get by one day at a time. Things were fine.

  Right?

  So why the hell was I freaking out inside my car in 100 degree heat over a certain inked bartender that gave me goose bumps whenever I simply thought of his name?

  Blaine.

  God, why couldn’t he have been named something less sexy? Like Mortimer? Or Buford? Because for a name like Blaine to be attached to someone as gorgeous as that scary-beautiful man was downright cruel.

  Dammit, I should have done 20.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and took a series of calming breaths to slow my heart rate. I knew I was being ridiculous. This was just a guy. Nothing was special or different about him. He represented something that I could never have: a serious relationship, companionship, trust…love. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact. Blaine needed to remain at a distance, especially now that we would be working together.

  I made my way into the bar, greeted by the soft sounds of classic rock playing over the sound system. A cozy, familiar feeling filled me, comforting my nerves. I really did like it here. Maybe it was nostalgia from the music paraphernalia adorning the walls. Or maybe it was the faint smells of lemon-scented wood polish and crispy-fried comfort food from the bar’s kitchen. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the man behind the bar, grinning at me in a way that made his chocolate-brown eyes look like warm pools of decadence. Whatever it was, whatever made my head swim with uncertainty, it didn’t keep me from smiling back at him.

  “Hey, roadrunner. Good to see you again,” Blaine said on my approach. He gripped the edge of the bar and leaned forward like he always seemed to do. I didn’t know if it was out of habit or if he was discreetly stretching. I knew how standing on your feet for 8+ hours could wreak havoc on your back.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes playfully. “Dude, you really gotta quit calling me that.”

  He crooked a knowing smile and narrowed his eyes at me. “Why? Are you done running?”

  Running? Was I done?

  “Nobody’s running, Blaine. I’m here, aren’t I?” I replied in a small, yet confident voice. I wanted it to be true. Oh God, how I wanted it to be true.

  Silence filled the space between us, muting the lunch crowd chatter and background music. His gaze never left mine. The way he looked at me put me oddly at ease considering the intensity of his stare. He had the eyes of a man that had seen things. Eyes that were soulful and wise, yet vibrant and sultry. Eyes that made me want to run away, yet urged me to stay.

  The subtle movement of his mouth working over the barbell threaded through his tongue was enough to distract my thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Work. I was here to work.

  “So…where do you want me?” I sputtered without thinking. “I mean…do you want me behind the bar or, um, uh… Should we get started?”

  Blaine chuckled, throwing his head back. When his eyes returned to mine, they were playful and full of mischief. “Sure, Kami. I want you back here with me.”

  I couldn’t help but inwardly scoff at his choice of words. Then again, mine were just as cringe-worthy. I needed to put my game face on. Playtime was over. This…whatever it was…was over. It had to be. I had let too much of myself peek out from beneath the mask I wore for the general public. A mask that had only been penetrated by the two people I shared a home and any semblance of a life with. Blaine wasn’t one of those people. He would never be one of those people. And if he knew the real me, not the person who pretended to be sane enough just to get by, he wouldn’t want to be.

  I squared my shoulders and stood next to him, careful to keep a bit of distance between our bodies. That seemed like the right thing to do. The safe thing to do.

  Assessing the space between us and my unreadable, stoic expression, Blaine frowned. “What? Something wrong?”

  Nothing was wrong with him. Not a single damn thing. It was me. It was always me.

  I shook my head, mentally fixing my mask back into place. “No, Blaine. But I came here to work, remember? And you’re here to train me. So maybe we should focus on that.”

  I could see his tongue rolling the metal inside his mouth, successfully thawing my cold glare and warming the space between my thighs. Shit. I was still here. The real me was still in this moment. With him.

  ShitShitShit.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 4

  Blaine

  You ever get that feeling in your gut that something is about to happen? Something…big? Life-changing even? Something that would not only rock your world right off its axis but flip it upside down and shake the shit out of it? Yeah, I totally got that about three weeks ago.

  I should’ve known the first time she came tearing into the parking lot. The first sign? She had been crying. Not drama queen, full on sobbing, but there were definitely tears. I had been just about to duck back in after a much needed break, when the screech of her tires caught my attention.

  I froze.

  Hell, there was no way my legs could take another step. Even with mascara smeared under her watery eyes, I could tell she was beautiful, and I think that fact made it even harder for me to turn away. I wanted to ask her what was wrong and wipe away every tear. I know it was absurd of me to want that. Shit, it was downright creepy. But she looked so…sad. And alone. And maybe even afraid. Like whatever it was that she had just run away from was bound to show up any second and drag her back to the hell she had just escaped.

  After a brief chat on her cell, I watched the internal battle play across her features as she tried to get her emotions in check. That should’ve been my chance to escape. I could turn away from her and let her deal with her own misery. I had enough of my own and I’d be damned if I’d take on someone else.

  But I didn’t turn away. I didn’t abandon the hellish North Carolina summer for the air-conditioned sanctuary of the bar. Nope. I took a step forward. Toward her.

  She began fixing her makeup, and I could have sworn she was talking to herself. That should have been a huge red flag that this chick was bat-shit crazy. I had dealt with more crazy broads to last a lifetime, and I wasn’t looking to pick up another. Not that I felt like I needed her in my life. No… definitely not.

  But I continued to walk towards her. I had no clue what I would say or do, but I knew that I had to say or do something. Anything to erase the pain that she so clearly shouldered. But before I could - before I could do something stupid in an attempt to make it all better - her car door swung open, and I ducked back under the shade of the building before she could misconstrue my intent.

  The second sign was her eyes. They seemed to pierce right through me, making it impossible to tear my own gaze away. Eyes that had witnessed grief and pain. Eyes
that glazed over and tried to push all the hurt away. I should have let her off the hook then. Should have let CJ irritate the shit out of her until she was fed up enough to leave and never look back. That was what I should have done. But I’d never been good with the obvious solution.

  None of those signs meant a damn thing the moment those perfect lips touched my skin. I could have been choking on the smoke signals, and I still wouldn’t have stopped her. She was so…soft. There was a fragility about her that made me want to cherish and protect her. It was ridiculous and stupid and downright embarrassing. But none of that mattered. Her touch had branded me in the most permanent way, over a shot of tequila and a wedge of lime.

  I didn’t do drama. Not anymore at least. I had learned to let go of the bullshit and free myself of all emotional baggage a long time ago. So I surely didn’t need her showing up inquiring about a job. And I damn sure didn’t need to be working side by side with her, making the temptation to delve deeper behind those haunting green eyes, to reveal those hidden pains that much stronger…

  “Dude, what the fuck? Did you even hear a word I just said? I swear, B, you’ll scrub a fuckin’ hole in the wood if you keep that up.”

  My eyes snapped to my cousin, CJ, then down to the area on the bar that I had been mindlessly - yet forcefully - wiping down with a rag. “Uh, my bad,” I stammered, my glazed eyes blinking out of their trance.

  CJ shook his head while unraveling his tie. He had rushed here from his day job as a contractor in hopes of seeing Dive’s newest addition. Unfortunately for him, I had sent Kami home an hour ago, when I honestly couldn’t think of another detail to exhaust. I had introduced her to the day staff, shown her the bathrooms, locker rooms, and she had mastered all the signature drinks. There was honestly no other excuse to keep her other than wanting her near me. Even after she had gone all cold and distant, I couldn’t deny my attraction to her. And I could tell that she felt it too. Shit, anyone in a 10-mile radius could feel the sexual tension rolling off of us in heated waves.

  “Like I was saying,” CJ started, rolling his eyes at my lack of enthusiasm at whatever idiotic thought had popped into his shallow mind. “Wendy asked about you. You remember, Wendy from high school? With the big titties? Dude, I swear, I would motor boat the shit out of those double-Ds.”