Strong Enough

by Teresa Hill

  “Don’t, please don’t.” Shaking my head from side to side to ward him away. I can see the confusion in his face. He wants to say something. I want him to but then again I don’t. Shit I don’t know what I want from him. “Reece, I’m not better off, and no, I won’t leave you alone. I will leave you alone for now, but you need me, I’m not sure why or what for, but I can tell, you need me.” His eyes were soulful, sincere and honest, he truly was concerned. Aw fuck, this isn’t going to end well.

  “I need to go.” And with that I turn and walk toward the doors. He doesn’t try to stop me this time, but I know this isn’t the last I will see of Sterling, he just made that very clear. I don’t know what it is that he thinks I need, but I am starting to wonder if he might be right.

  Chapter 7

  Walking in I throw my keys on the kitchen breakfast bar, pull my tennis shoes off and drop them where I stand. Heading to the fridge, I pull my hair out of the bun I had it wrapped up in. Good god I’m hungry. Opening the fridge, there isn’t much inside. Scanning the shelves, I see a bag of open hot dogs, a block of cheddar cheese, half empty 2 liter of diet Pepsi, takeout box of Chinese and half liter of milk half gone. Nothing looks appetizing, but I grab the box of takeout and a fork from the drawer next to the fridge and head to the couch.

  Plopping in the middle of the couch, I toss the take out box on the coffee table and grab the remote. Hope I can find Criminal Minds to watch; ugh Derek is fucking hot. As I had expected no Criminal Minds, so Law and Order SVU will have to do. When is this show NOT on? I settle back into the couch with my takeout. My mind is racing. I can’t focus and this food sucks. Tossing the fork in the box and onto the coffee table, I glance at the clock and do a quick calculation of how long I have before I need to get ready for work. I figure I have four hours to waste. Nap time it is. With that, my head hit the couch pillow, and I can feel the sleep setting in.

  Dododododo… dododododo…dodododo…

  Face planted in the pillow, my arm reaches out to the coffee table to find my cell phone. This better be an emergency. My hand hits my phone, vibrating all over the place and I grab it as quick as I can to silence the irritating ring.

  “Yeah?” My voice cracks as it tries to sound normal.

  “Reece where the fuck are you?” Derek barked through the phone. Rolling to my back, I pull the phone away from my face to look at the time. SHIT! It’s 5:28! “Derek man I’m sorry, I fell asleep. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  I hang up on him without waiting for an answer and throw my phone on the couch and rush toward the bedroom. Great forgot to do laundry. I look down at the laundry hamper and grab my black micro shorts and shake them out to make sure they are decent enough to wear. We don’t really have a “uniform” to wear at the bar, but let’s face it, customers of the male persuasion prefer to have something to look at when drinking, and well the more they drink the more I make in tips, so yes micro shorts and skinny tanks are pretty much the uniform. Pulling open my closet, it looks like a bomb went off with mounds of shoes and purses on the floor and the small space stuffed with clothes. I’m sure anyone looking in there would wonder how someone could find anything but I never have a problem. That is until I need something right away, like a tank for work that I am already an hour late for.

  Scanning the closet I reach up and grab an electric blue skinny tank from the pile on the top shelf of the closet and look quickly through my drawers below to grab my new canary yellow bra and matching boy shorts and head toward the shower. It’s a good thing the bar is around the corner, time is not on my side. Taking my shower at lightning speed I am out and throwing my clothes on and running a brush through my long auburn hair. I would normally take a minute and put makeup on but hell, who really cares, not like I am trying to impress someone. Instead I grab my mascara and run a couple coats over my eyes, a little bronzer on the face and yep, I’m done.

  Walking past my full length mirror leaning against the wall I pause and look and then wish I hadn’t. Sucking in my stomach as I walk out of my bedroom, I stop to pick up my cell off the couch and grab my purse and keys off the counter, I’m out the door and down the stairs.

  Geez even at six in the evening the Texas sun is shining and hot as hell, but I’m grateful for a gentle breeze, even if it is hot air blowing. You would think after all the years of living here I would be used to it, but who really gets used to sweating your ass off 80% of the year? Flipping my Oakleys down over my eyes, I hit the button on my key fob to turn off the alarm on my car and jump in the driver’s seat.

  Takes me less than three minutes to leave my place and pull into the parking lot of The Library. A hole in the wall bar known to most of the college crowd as the place to go Wednesday through Saturday. From the looks of the outside it is hard to tell the single red door surrounded by all black brick and no windows is a bar at all. A sole neon sign above the door shines bright and reads OPEN. If it wasn’t for the sign and the amount of cars in the parking lot, I’m not sure anyone driving by would think it was anything but an abandoned building close to campus.

  Pulling open the front door, I nod my head toward the bouncer and walk past. The inside of The Library does not meet the illusion the outside gives. The owner Derek put a lot of time and money into the bar. Dark stained concrete floors, couches are pushed into sections of the bar to create “hang out” areas he calls them. Long black tables with bench and single seats fill up the middle of the place. Derek said he went with long tables to create a way for people to sit among others and socialize instead of people fighting over tables. Yet, as with any bar when we are busy, people still don’t have a place to sit and they still fight over access to tables. One thing I will say Derek got right was putting the bar in the middle of the joint. It is a very long bar that offers 360 service while serving 50 seats at the bar alone.

  It’s already getting busy in here and I can see Stormy and Gretchen are running around trying to keep up. I trained both of them so I know they can do it, but 25 customers each and upkeep of the wait staff does get a bit overwhelming. Now I feel even guiltier for being late.

  “Hey girls, sorry, let me throw my stuff in the office and I’ll be right out,” was all I said as I raced by. I caught both of them nod and smile at me as I raced past.

  Hope Derek isn’t in here right now. Just as I threw the door open, Derek was walking out so the door hit him square in the head. “FUCK, watch it…” he yelled as he staggered backwards into the office.

  “Crap, I’m sorry Derek, I didn’t expect you to walk out right then.”

  “You’re late, really late, and I really don’t give a fuck why, just get your shit together and go do your goddamn job Reece. I didn’t make you manager to fuck around and come in when you want.”

  “Oh come on Derek, three years with you and I’m never late. I work my ass off and you’re going to give me shit like this. Don’t give me this ‘I didn’t make you manager…’ bullshit. You made me manager because you know I know my shit and don’t take shit from employees or customers and further more will work my ass off like no one else in this goddamn place. So give me a fucking break will ya?” Irritation and anger poured from my words.

  Throwing his hands up in a manner of I surrender, Derek backed away from me and flashed me one of his signature panty dropping smiles. “You know I love it when you talk like that to me,” he said as his hands came down and reached out to grab my hips. Oh for Christ sake, I don’t want to deal with this right now. “Derek don’t! Let me put my stuff up and get out on the floor. The girls are in the weeds out there and I don’t want to deal with pissy drunk people tonight because you want to waste more of my time by hitting on me when you know I won’t do anything with you.” Slapping his hands away from me, he gave me a dejected look but knew I was not playing around. “Fine Reece but you know you want me,” he said as he flashed that smile and walked out the room. Oh I so do NOT want you.

  In just the few minutes I took to put my stuff away and hop behind th
e bar, the crowd has picked up. The Library has become a cult favorite amongst the college crowd as well as many of our older regulars. Most places don’t get busy until after 9:00 pm, we start to feel the rush around 5:30 pm and it doesn’t let up until 2:00 am.

  “Ok girls, fill me in, where are we on the bar top?” I ask while setting up my station in the middle of the bar.

  “Gretchen has service window and I have been grabbing most of the bar top. If you want, I will take northside so you can keep your station and an eye on the door,” Stormy hollered from across the bar.

  “Sounds good to me Storm,” I yelled back. I get along pretty well with Gretchen and Stormy that’s why I schedule them to work with me. I have a few other bartenders that I prefer to keep my distance from more for their sake of me not bitch slapping them.

  I take a quick count of who is on my side of the bar top. Running down the line, I make sure that everyone has a drink in hand. The few spots still open on my side quickly get filled as what seems like an entourage comes in and they fill not only the bare spots but the table that is right next to the bar. I have been doing this long enough to know how to handle these groups.

  A tall guy, decent looking, longer dark hair and clean cut steps up to the bar. I hear an accent as he starts to put in an order. “Can I get two Jack and cokes, two vodka tonics, three Budweiser’s and a glass of water?” His accent is definitely from the east coast as his pronunciation of water was not of the norm for Texas.

  I line the drinks up in front of him. “Want to open a tab or close out?” I asked totaling the cost up for him. “Leave it open babe.” Great, ugh, so not your babe

  “Will be happy to leave it open but if you want service on it you might want to call me by my name because last I checked we’re not dating and I definitely am not your babe,” was the snippy response I spouted out before my brain could catch up to my mouth.

  The bewildered look he gave me almost made me chuckle. Not sure if it was what I said or the fact that I had something to say at all was what was confusing him.

  “Yeah, um sorry, habit.” Was all he said as he handed me his credit card.

  “Name is Reece and I will respond to it, and only it.” Smiling as to not piss him off.

  “You’re feisty, I like that.” His grin was one I see on a daily basis. Men!

  “Feisty is an understatement for me, but if that’s what you want to go with, doesn’t matter to me. Let me know if you need anything else,” was all I said as I head down the bar to check on more customers.

  Standing a few feet down from where I left Mr. East Coast, should have read his name on the credit card, I see him walk in and flash his smile. Short black hair pushed to the middle of his head and spiked up, deep purple v neck shirt clinging to the massive things he must call arms attached to him. Scanning lower I see his dark jeans are loose fitting around his waist but hug what must be very muscular legs that bring his, eh, six foot tall frame up to the bar. His chocolate eyes scan the room and stop when he sees me staring. CRAP IM STARING. Realization of what I am doing hits me, and I turn to mix up the shots the customer in front of me had ordered. Don’t turn and look, don’t turn and look. Turning and looking, yep he’s still looking as Mr. East Coast tries to get my attention.

  Finishing with the customer I was with, I walk back toward Mr. East Coast and am unsure how to react to the other one’s eyes are following me. There is something about him that is familiar but I’m not sure why. I’m pretty sure I would remember someone that looks like him if I had met him before.

  “What can I get ya?” I sound a little too chipper greeting Mr. East Coast with a smile. It is obvious he has the same thought to my chipperness as he shakes his head a bit to suggest he wasn’t sure how to react.

  “Reece, my friend would like a…” pausing to face him, we both see a look of recognition in his face when he hears my name.

  “Umm, vodka water, two limes,” is all he says as he continues to stare. It is obvious he is just as curious as both Mr. East Coast and me but he doesn’t say anything.

  Reaching down I grab a rocks glass and make the vodka, water and squeeze the two limes as I hand it over. Pausing, he takes the glass from me and looks very closely at my eyes. His face relaxes as his smile widens and his chocolate eyes almost dance. Good god take me now.

  I’m not sure how to respond so I do what any normal person would do, I walk away. Ok maybe not the normal thing to do, but it’s normal for me. I don’t do awkward.

  I’m not sure what to do with myself. I can feel his eyes following the back of me as I find things to do on the north side of the bar. Stormy looks at me puzzled, and my reply look matches hers. At this point, I just don’t know what to do with myself. This guy is staring me down, and for the first time in a really long time, I want to stare back. But I am not sure why. Looking at him, I feel like I know him. Something calms me when I see him.

  Caught up in thought I didn’t see Stormy walk over. “Girl, you have an admirer, and one I wouldn’t mind admiring myself if I may add. That boy is H.O.T why are you over here acting like you have something to do on my side when you clearly need to be over there talking it up with him. Hell I will cover your side AND my side if you want to talk to him for a bit. I have watched him since he walked in and he has not taken his eyes off of you. Do you know him?”

  “That’s just it Storm, I don’t think I know him, but yet, shit, I feel like I do when I look at him. It’s freaking me the fuck out. And him staring at me is only making things worse. I am two seconds from saying fuck this and leaving.”

  “Oh no you aren’t Reece, you know as well as I do that you and guys don’t um, mesh well. But girl, this boy is seriously into you and in record time. Has he talked to you yet? Gotten a piece of the Reese charm? I am gonna have to say no otherwise he would not still be standing there.” She laughs and nudges my shoulder to let me know she is playing with me. Unfortunately, here jokes are the truth. I don’t react well to guys. I give attitude in an attempt to flirt. Let’s face it I don’t flirt at all.

  “No I haven’t spoken directly to him. I, um, shit Stormy I don’t know what to say!” The fear in my voice could be heard by anyone sitting in ear shot.

  “Geez Reese it’s not rocket science, just walk over there put your hand out and say Hi, I’m Reese and you are… and then shut up.”

  With a fit of frustration and a little bit of a ‘your right attitude’ I throw my hands up and land them back on my hips as I look her square in the eyes. “Seriously Stormy, if it was THAT easy for me, don’t you think I would have a boyfriend by now?”

  “Please Reese, your lack of a boyfriend has nothing to do with your inability to talk to the opposite sex, it has more to do with your hatred of them. They are NOT all alike, maybe this one is different?” Her shoulders flex upwards as she gives a sheepish questionable look.

  I really cannot argue with her on this one. I have been given interest plenty of times. And I think guys are hot and I am attracted to them, but that’s as far as it goes. My only attempt at a boyfriend in the last five years was Chris and well, that did not work out one bit, but I’m sure it was my fault, or at least his story says it is. It doesn’t matter though, because Stormy is right.

  She is standing there staring at me and without being noticed, or at least I hope he didn’t notice, I look out the corner of my eye to see that he is still standing at the bar, and even though he is talking to Mr. East Coast, he continues to glance my direction. I’m either going to have to walk over there and introduce myself or fire Stormy, and well, I can’t fire her, at least not for this, which leaves me with no choice.

  Deep breath in, a curt smile to Stormy, and I turn and head back to my station where he is standing, his right arm bent and resting on the bar with his drink in the same hand. His body weight shifted all to the right which is causing every single muscle in his arm to flex to hold him up. His quiet demeanor can be seen as the only person I have seen him address or talk to is Mr. East Coast. The
moment he realizes I am walking toward him he shifts his weight to rotate and face the bar head on, right in my direction. My back tenses and my mouth clenches as I wring my hands together to either get rid of the sweat or just have something to do with them. No one has ever affected me this way before.

  I pause when I hit my station and reach out to extend my hand but quickly grab a shaker. He reacted for a second to almost extend his hand until he saw me change course. With no order to be made I mix up a couple shots and start giving away drinks simply to keep my hands busy. Well hell, need to remember to add those to the spill sheet.

  After four rounds of free shots have been handed out and customers are really happy I glance at Stormy who is giving me a very evil eye. Rolling my own eyes because I know she’s right, I look back at him and stick my hand out in his direction, waiting for him to take it. Time must have come to a stop because he is looking at my hand and me for what seems like an eternity and still not taking it to shake.

  Defeated, I start to retract my hand as I look away only to be brought back to attention when I feel his warm hand slip into mine. The minute his skin touches mine my whole body warms. The subtle up and down movement of our hands causes me to forget to speak. His feel seems very familiar, safe. He smiles but doesn’t say anything. I can feel a smile pull to my lips but I force it back. Now or never chick, what’s it gonna be?

  “Hi, names Reece and you are…” I pause for a response.

  His head tilts to the left as he turns his head ever so slightly in the same direction. His chisel jaw line lends to a very kissable neck. Did I just think kissable neck? His eyes are focused on me but he has yet to speak. If he doesn’t say something soon I am not only taking my hand back, but I am leaving the bar.

  “Why aren’t you smiling?” His question throws me off. I’m still waiting to hear his name as his voice echoes in my head. I feel like I have heard it before. The southern drawl pulls at me from a deep place. His words roll over and over in my head as I try and remember where I have heard his voice before.