So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  A wink.

  It was such an underutilized gesture. It was subtle in nature, and the recipient could interpret it any way they wanted to. With him, I was conflicted because all I could think about was how hot it was. How hot he was. It wasn’t that I’d never noticed before. It was hard not to, but there was something different about him I couldn’t quite place.

  Regardless, he was under a new light now; a new light that made his blue eyes sparkle, made his shoulders and height seem even more impressive. It was the same light that made me aware of those dimples just below the surface of his beard, the beard that I wanted to reach out and touch to see how it felt under my fingertips. The light that made his smile so warm and his eyes turn down coyly.

  “Will you answer him for Christ’s sake?” Bridget said, poking me in the side. “You look like you were contemplating if Cheerios were doughnut seeds.”

  And it was the same light that made me appear like a complete jackass.

  Abel was now leaned over, laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said. He waited until he caught his breath before he spoke again. “I’ve never seen someone so confused about what to drink.”

  I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t confused. I was—”

  “Daydreaming?” he asked.

  “Ogling,” Bridget said, bringing her martini with three olives to her mouth. She took a sip and set it back down, the clank of her gold bangle bracelet the only sound I heard, even though there were conversations and low music occurring around me. “She was ogling you, Abel. Can’t say I blame her. If I was a free woman and ten years younger, I’d do the same.”

  He started laughing again and turned his attention to a gentleman who came up next to him and whispered in his ear.

  “Bridget,” I hissed. “You are mortifying me.”

  “Oh, lighten up. I’m trying to get you laid.”

  My jaw dropped. Not that I should’ve been surprised. This was Bridget. I worked for her for close to a year, and in that time I’d never known anyone else to have two completely different sides to their personality. She was the epitome of professionalism in the office. Every aspect of her business from the furnishings to the labels on the clothes she dressed in was perfection. Then, when work was over, and she was in a place where she could unravel, the real Bridget came out. A foul-mouthed, no-bullshit woman who took no prisoners.

  I whispered in her ear, “I don’t need your help.”

  “What are you girls whispering about?” he asked. “Cocktail selections?”

  “I’ll have a Manhattan, please,” I said.

  He nodded as the dimples reappeared. “A whiskey girl. My favorite.”

  I heard Bridget snort as she stood up and excused herself to the ladies’ room, leaving me alone.

  “So, what’s new?” he asked, placing a short glass on the bar.

  “I wasn’t ogling you,” I responded briskly.

  He shrugged, adding ice to the glass. “I wouldn’t have minded if you were.”

  “You’re smooth with the words. You play the bartender role right.”

  “No role.”

  He made my drink with a certain artistic flow. He added whiskey, bitters, and vermouth to the glass before stirring it well. After running a thin orange peel around the rim, he threaded two cherries through a toothpick. Just before he slid it over to me, he took a fresh hand towel and wiped the outside of the glass down, ensuring there was no spillage. I was relieved that the liquor wasn’t up to the very top because undoubtedly, I’d spill the first time I picked it up. There is little recovery when you have booze running down your chin and a wet shirt that made you smell like a distillery.

  I brought it to my mouth and took a small sip. It was sweet and strong, with the right amount of kick back from the slow burn of the whiskey.

  “Perfect,” I said. “I’m always impressed when someone stirs instead of shakes.”

  “Not even if someone asks. Always stirred.”

  “I usually ask for two cherries, but you seemed to have known.”

  He placed his hand on his chest and gave a little bow.

  “How do you know Bridget?” he asked.

  “I’ve been her assistant for the last year. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed she never brought me here before.”

  “I’m sure she had to be certain you could be trusted. Members can bring in guests, but it’s their membership if word gets out. It’s why most people don’t.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, I’ll consider myself lucky. My lips are sealed.”

  “And what a set of lips they are,” he said as he licked at his own, the tip of his tongue running across his lower lip. It was deliberate and sexy, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his game.

  “Are you allowed to do that?” I asked.

  “Do what?”

  “That,” I said, waving a hand between us. “Flirt. With me. At work.”

  He took in a deep breath that expanded his already large chest. “Well, if you want to get technical…”

  “Yes,” Bridget said, sliding back into her seat. “Let’s get technical.”

  “Just the person I need,” Abel said. “Do me a little favor, Bridget.”

  “What’s that?”

  He grinned, leaning over the bar. “Fire this insanely beautiful girl so I can ask her out for the fourth time.”

  “What?” Bridget said.

  “No,” I shouted.

  “I can’t ask her out if she’s a member or with one. You know that. So, fire her.”

  “Um. Do you honestly think I would risk my job to go on a date with you?” I said, pointing at him. “Arrogant bastard.”

  “Arrogant maybe,” he said, winking again. “But I’m not above playing dirty.”

  I took a large sip from my cocktail. “Good for you. I’d never give up my dream job for a guy, let alone a date.”

  I sat back against the chair and folded my arms. Who the hell did he think he was? Figuring this guy out was like dodging bullets, left and right. I never knew where he was coming from or where he was going.

  “Oh, please,” Bridget said. “You have an in with the owner, Abel. Just tell Aaron to let this one slide.”

  “My brother might’ve heard that before,” he said.

  I ran my finger up and down the side of my glass. “I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”

  His eyes fixated on my finger movements, the gliding across the wet glass. “Maybe,” he said, without looking up. “I might have said it before.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts and noticed another customer was ready for her next drink at the other end of the short bar. I watched as his hand brushed the bar’s surface, the heat from his palms leaving small smudges across it.

  “Leave him your card,” Bridget said. When I didn’t answer her right away, she nudged me with such force she almost forced me off the stool.

  I shook my head. “No. Callie and Aaron don’t think it’d be a good idea. Plus, you heard him. I don’t want to get you or him in trouble.”

  She rolled her eyes. “His brother owns the place. He isn’t going anywhere.”

  I looked at him, opening a champagne bottle that cost more than my rent. He was completely engaged with the woman in front of him, the same way he was with me just moments before. Maybe it was just him. Being a flirty bartender was part of the job description, wasn’t it? But what about all the other times we ran into each other? Was that him being his regular, flirty self, with the ability to insert a heavy dose of inappropriate?

  As if he sensed my stare, his head turned as he poured the champagne, and he smiled. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger and wondered what I was so afraid of. I wanted to know more. I want to know more of him. I knew Callie and Aaron wouldn’t be happy about it, but they’d get over it. There was something moving between us, and every time I was near him that became more and more apparent.

  “If you don’t leave your number, I will,” B
ridget said. “He’s a doll.”

  “How would you know that?” I asked.

  “Because I’ve been coming here for long enough to know,” she said. “He graduated from Northwestern a couple years ago and wants to be a teacher. It’s hard right now in Chicago to find something, so he’s been biding his time.”

  “A teacher?”

  I had no idea, and frankly, it didn’t seem to fit him. I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.

  “Yeah. High school, I think.” A familiar flutter swirled around my stomach, one that I hadn’t sensed in a long time, one that let me know that I was, in fact, swooning. Hot guy, teacher, and a brazen attitude was enough to check off a number of boxes in my imaginary dream boy checklist.

  “I can’t stay much longer,” Bridget said, looking at the time on her phone. “We have a lot of shit to get done before the Miller wedding on Saturday.”

  I took another sip of my Manhattan and started digging through my purse again. Bridget set her hand on top of mine and laughed. “No. Not now. Just not a lot longer. At least let’s finish our drinks.”

  “Oh, I know. I was looking for this,” I said, pulling out one of my business cards.

  It seemed silly, considering he knew where he could find me, but it was a gesture. An invitation. One that I hoped he’d accept.

  Chapter Four

  ABEL—

  Tonight was the best kind of surprise. Not only was her coming into WET one, but that combined with the way her cheeks flushed from the whiskey and her tight sweater dress clung to every one of her curves, I was completely enchanted. On top of all, she always wore the most intense red lip color. She was like Marilyn Monroe, and something unique to her mixed together and created this incredibly sexy, adorable woman.

  “I guess I can assume, yes, hot by the way you have that dreamy look in your eyes,” he said.

  “Fuck off, Ponyboy,” I said.

  “Did you hear any more about that teaching gig?” he asked.

  “No. Well, not since the last I heard. I guess they decided to hire a sub who’d been working there. They said they’d contact me in the summer about any fall openings, but it doesn’t look promising.”

  “That sucks, dude. But the online teaching thing is going good, and you have the California thing in your corner.”

  I shrugged, immediately feeling guilty not only for lying to Marshall about the online thing, but also because I was coming across as ungrateful for a huge opportunity Aaron had offered me. The truth was I knew it wasn’t right for me, but I needed to start stepping up. By the time Aaron was my age, he was already well on his way to being an ultimate success. I wasn’t even close, and my family never missed a chance to remind about that even if it came from a place of love.

  “It’s true,” I said. “I’m not complaining.”

  Marshall was quiet, and I knew why. He knew it wasn’t what I wanted to do. I was grateful I had a brother in a position to give me this job and the opportunity tons of guys would jump on, but I was nothing like Aaron. My older brother was everything I wasn’t: business smart, serious, and well, more serious. He was a single dad and a hell of an entrepreneur. At thirty-two, he’d achieved more than most people did in a lifetime.

  My parents were successful, retired professionals as well. The apartment I lived in was in the same building as my parents’ and was paid for by them. I hoped not for long, but at the rate I was going I wasn’t so sure.

  “I think we’re done here,” he said, tossing his rag into the dirty pile. “Want to head out?”

  “I’m going to stay for a few. Do you mind?”

  “No, but are you okay? You’ve seemed off all night, and it seems like it’s something more than just a smoking girl.”

  “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

  I didn’t mean to be so blasé, but it was all I had in me.

  He shrugged. “All right. See ya tomorrow.”

  Our small kitchen staff left soon after, and I was alone in the quiet. I sat down at the bar, a bottle of Patrón and a shot glass. It was something I liked to do sometimes, sit in the silence of the room that was once filled with noise and distractions. All of that energy, everything people wanted from me, drinks and my words, left me drained most nights. While tonight wasn’t much different, I had a different reason to reflect.

  It was almost two a.m., and while most of the city was tucked in their beds, a warm body next to them, I was knocking back tequila and thinking about a girl.

  Evelyn.

  Shit. The fact that she held her own when I flirted relentlessly, then left her business card, made her that much more desirable. She was making the calls on her terms, and there was something very sexy about a woman doing that. I knew she was going to stand her ground, and because she worked for such a spitfire powerhouse like Bridget, it fanned the flames of want something fierce.

  She was different. She might be my unicorn.

  I needed to see her again. In fact, for a reason I hadn’t felt in a long time, I wanted more than to just see her again.

  I was going to get that girl.

  I took out my phone and looked up the name of a nearby florist. Their website had online ordering, and after some decision-making, I decided on a modest bouquet with mixed flowers. Choosing the right flowers and how big of an arrangement was important. If it was too big, they thought you were overly eager and totally into them. Even if I was eager, and I was, I couldn’t let her know that. If I sent something too small or cheap looking, then I looked like a broke asshole, and no lady liked that. I think I chose well.

  I knocked back the rest of my Patrón and slid the glass across the bar, stopping it before it toppled over the edge. After walking around, blowing out the rest of the barely still-lit candles and shutting off lights, I locked up. I walked outside, the streets deserted except for a few cars. The night was chilly, but not cold, a sign that the warmth the city waited for was coming.

  There was something brewing. I didn’t know if it was the girl or the changing weather. Summer was coming, and things were beginning to smell clean and new. It always reminded me of when school was out for spring break. It felt like after the long Chicago winter, it was the first time I could breathe.

  I wasn’t ready to head home yet. Some nights I was just too keyed up and needed something to help me unwind. Luckily, a last-minute poker game I’d gotten an alert for a couple hours ago was happening only a few blocks away. Good vibes were in the air, and with any luck, they’d fall down on the cards.

  Chapter Five

  EVELYN—

  I assure you, Mrs. McGovern, the bows on the chairs will be the exact same color as the bridesmaids’ dresses. I will check the swatches personally,” I said, rolling my eyes at the phone. Not even ten a.m. and I already had to talk down Mrs. McGovern. Her daughter, Maddie, was marrying the mayor’s son and having their wedding at the Peninsula. Maddie was one of the most laid-back brides I’d ever worked with. She knew what she wanted, didn’t waiver, and let us do our jobs. Her mother, on the other hand, called at least three times a week to micromanage.

  Bridget passed by and gave me a thumbs-up before walking back into her office. Lucky bitch. She only had to deal with the super-urgent stuff and vendor meetings. And of course, the wedding day, but I was with her for that. All the cranky phone calls from mothers of the bride or overly involved grooms was handled by me. It was the first thing Bridget taught me: Remain calm no matter what. Tell them it’s handled, even if it wasn’t. We were getting paid to take care of everything for them.

  I was saved just in time as she started asking about how long the chef had been there, and if he had ever done anything as important as her daughter’s wedding, when a delivery person walked through the glass doors.

  “I’ll definitely look into his credentials, Mrs. McGovern, and get back to you, okay? I have an urgent delivery here I need to address.”

  I sighed loudly as I placed the phone back in the receiver. “Thank you,” I said, stan
ding to sign for the delivery.

  He looked down at his clipboard. “I’m looking for Evelyn?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “I have a delivery for you,” he said, handing me the clipboard to sign.

  “For me?” It was unusual for something to come specifically for me because everything was under Bridget’s name. I looked down to see where to sign and saw the name of the business at the top. Windy City Florist.

  “Hold on. I’ll bring it in,” he said.

  I shrugged it off and signed. It was probably a sample bouquet or centerpiece that I accidentally put in my name.

  Then I saw it. Or part of it as the delivery guy was trying to wedge it through the door.

  I rushed over to help him. “Here, I’ll hold the door.” He paused, and I unlocked the side door to give him more room to get through.

  “Thanks,” he said, lifting an enormous floral arrangement into the office.

  No, it wasn’t enormous, it was…massive. The white flowers, composed mostly of carnations, were flanked by overflowing greenery while a white satin sash that read BELOVED was draped across the middle.

  It was clearly a funeral arrangement.

  “Um,” I said, handing the clipboard back to the delivery guy. “I think this is a mistake. This obviously belongs at a memorial service or something. This is a wedding planning office.”

  “You are Evelyn, and this is By Invitation Only, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re for you. Card’s at the top.”

  “Huh?” I looked at the small envelope, and sure enough, my name was on the front.

  The guy said something as he left, but I wasn’t even paying attention. I was too busy ripping the seal off the back of the envelope.

  I slid the small card out and read the printed message:

  Dinner tomorrow? Call me: 312-555-0199.

  Abel

  Oh. Hell. No.

  Was he kidding me with this? What kind of idiot sends a girl he was interested in flowers that were more fitting for bereavement than interest? What a—

  “What the hell is that?” Bridget shouted, slamming her door and pointing her finger at the atrocity.