by Reese Ryan
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m serious. I’ve ordered that drink in New York, L.A., Dallas, Seattle, Toronto, the Bahamas and D.C. and it has never been this good. Guess yours is the one I’ve been searching for all this time.” He leaned back against the stool and watched her as he spoke.
“Thanks.” She shifted her weight, averting her glance. Reclaiming his glass, she started making his next drink, her back toward him.
“So how long’ve you been bartending? Must’ve been awhile to get so good at making an obscure drink hardly anyone orders.”
She groaned inwardly. All night she’d tried to avoid conversation with him, which required responding to his myriad of questions with grunts and monosyllabic answers. The guy could have gotten better conversation chatting up a chimpanzee, but he wasn’t taking the hint. Either that or he was a glutton for punishment.
“Off and on for ten years. Longer informally,” she added, thinking of all the backyard parties and gatherings in the woods behind the school where she’d served as bartender. She found it unbelievable that people who consumed so much alcohol rarely bothered to learn how to make a decent drink.
“So evidently you enjoy bartending.”
Her spine stiffened. Oh, God. Not one of those guys. The what’s-a-nice-girl-like-you-doing-in-a-job-like-this? guys. She turned to look him squarely in the eye. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s an honest living, and you can vouch for my work.” She turned back and grabbed the bottles of vermouth.
“No, I didn’t mean to...I wasn’t...I just meant that a lot of the people I’ve met who are waiters or bartenders have something else in mind that they really want to be doing. I wondered if there was something else for you.” The words tumbled from his lips.
She could hear the grimace in his voice. Her face softened and her spine relaxed. She turned and handed the drink to him. “And I’m supposed to think that you know lots of waiters and bartenders, huh?” She wiped her hands on her apron as she watched him squirm in his seat, face pinched.
“I do, actually.” He took a sip of the drink. A look of satisfaction washed over his face as he set the glass down between them. “In fact, there’s only one bartender I’ve known who could make a cocktail that rivaled this one.” He studied her face for a moment then jerked a thumb toward himself. “Me.”
She laughed, head back, mouth open.
“What’s so funny about that?” He seemed genuinely hurt. She almost felt bad about it. Almost.
“Really? You, Mr. Eight-Hundred-Dollar Loafers, are a bartender?”
His cheeks reddened and he glanced down at his shoes. “How’d you know—”
“You’re not the only person who can read people, mister.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.
“Okay, so maybe I can afford pricey shoes and—”
“A black BMW.”
His mouth gaped open. “How’d you—?”
“It’s a gift,” she said proudly, leaning in a little closer. “I could tell you were a BMW guy two minutes after we met. Took me another fifteen minutes to figure out you’d probably go for classic black, probably a high-end five series...maybe the six series. Definitely not the seven, ’cause that’d just be flaunting it.”
He let out a low whistle and ran his fingers through his hair. “No way. The valet must be acting as your secret informant.”
“Nope. I told you, it’s a gift.” She rested her elbows on the bar and leaned even closer to him. Her voice was a husky whisper. “Don’t look now, but the older guy coming in the door with the chick in the tiny sequin skirt who’s young enough to be his granddaughter...bet he drives a wee little Corvette in some wildly inappropriate color like lemon yellow.” She backed away from him and headed to the other end of the bar to refresh another customer’s drink. When she was done she returned to Miles and whispered, “So whadya think? You think I’m right?”
He had that ridiculously sexy grin plastered on his face again, the wattage decidedly turned up a notch. “That guy is staying at my hotel. You’re only half right, though. He drives a nineteen sixty-five Corvette Stingray, but it isn’t yellow, it’s Incredible Hulk green.”
Jamie shuddered. “Even worse. And the guy should be taken behind a woodshed and beaten for mutilating an American classic like that. Not to mention the fact that he’s corrupting a minor.”
“Agreed.”
They giggled like naughty schoolchildren making fun of the substitute teacher’s ten-buck toupee, and something about it felt good. Familiar. Like having an inside joke with an old friend.
“You’re a bad influence on me.” She swiped underneath her eye with the heel of her hand, careful not to ruin her makeup. “I shouldn’t be making fun of the customers.”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t have slammed that guy’s superhero-inspired midlife crisis on wheels if I wasn’t here?” He smiled at her. “Then I’m really glad I came. Face it, you might not want to talk about it, but you needed a good laugh tonight.”
Jamie sighed. She could see her birth mother’s face, leathered with age and hard living. Her eyes dull and vacant except for what had seemed, at least for a moment, like genuine regret. She did need something to lighten her mood. Anything that would take her mind off of Jo and the shitload of trouble she was sure to bring with her.
She glanced at him warily. “I did. Thanks.”
His smile broadened. He seemed pleased with himself, like he’d come up with a cure for polio. That made her want to laugh, but she restrained herself.
“So, you ready for the bill now?” She nodded toward the tiny bits of meat scattered on his plate. “What’s left of that steak is ice-cold.”
“It is,” he acknowledged conspiratorially. “But I prefer your company to my hotel room.”
“Well, I’m flattered you find me more interesting than an empty room.”
“Wait a minute now. We’re not just talking about an empty room. There’s cable. Good cable. Right now I could be watching an entire night of uninterrupted—”
“Porn?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She enjoyed the way he shifted on that bar stool again. It took everything she had not to laugh.
“No!” he said a little too loudly, then lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “I was thinking Homeland. There’s a marathon on tonight and you just never know what that Carrie Mathison is up to.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to keep you from your date with Claire Danes.” She smirked, her fingers flying across the screen of the iPad where she placed her orders. Miles’s bill for dinner slowly rose out of a little machine behind the counter. She snatched it out, stuck it in a small leather binder and handed it to him. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Before he could respond, she was making her way to the other end of the bar, trying not to think of that damn grin.
Chapter Three
“Jo showed up at the house? God, how long has it been since you’ve seen her? Like—”
“Fifteen years.” Jamie interrupted her best friend, Melanie. She hated to bother her so late at night, but she needed to hear her voice. Melanie had always had a calming effect on her.
“I can’t believe it,” Mel said. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. It was just...nothing like I’d expected. For so long I imagined what it’d be like when I saw one of them again. I knew exactly what I was going to say.”
“I remember. Do you still have that speech tucked in your sock drawer?”
“No. I burned it a few years ago. I figured I’d never see either of them again.”
“So then, what did you say to her?” Melanie prodded.
Jamie twirled a chunk of hair around her finger. “I asked what she was doing here and what she wanted.”
“And what did she want?”
“To apologize for—” She swallowed hard then cleared her throat. “She asked me to forgive her.”
“That’s what you’ve always wanted, for them to come crawling back, begging for your forg
iveness,” Melanie said. “That must’ve given you some satisfaction.”
Jamie shrugged, repositioning the pillow under her head. “I guess.”
“So what did you say?” Mel pressed.
“That I couldn’t do this right now. I was on my way to work, and I couldn’t afford to be late.”
“Since when do you care about being late for work?” There was laughter in Melanie’s voice.
“Since Ms. Anna hooked me up with a much better bartending job. I don’t want to let her or Mom down, and I definitely don’t want to lose this gig. I got a fifty-dollar tip on a fifty-dollar bar tab tonight.”
“Maybe I should start bartending on the weekends.” Mel laughed. “Then I could finally afford a bigger apartment.”
“You’re a brilliant headhunter, Mel, but trust me...you’d make a lousy bartender.”
“Why?”
Jamie smiled at the thought of her friend trying to make drinks and wait on customers. Mel was smart, and at one point in her life she’d been athletic, but she didn’t have the finesse to be a bartender. It was like a perfectly timed theater performance. Making the drinks. Chatting up the customers. Carrying a tray loaded with drinks and remembering who got what.
She was playing a part, remembering her lines, standing on her mark and taking her cues. Such a choreographed effort would make Melanie sick to her stomach. But for Jamie, it was like checking out of her own shitty life for a few hours each night. It was comfortable, rhythmic, safe.
“You still need a recipe to make icebox cheesecake. Seriously, it’s, like, four ingredients and you can’t frickin’ make it without consulting Mom’s notes. I don’t cook and I could make that damn pie in my sleep.” She laughed. “Remembering dozens of drinks and making them on the spot...does that even remotely sound like you?”
“I guess not,” Mel conceded. “But it made you laugh. That’s good enough for me.”
“Thanks.” She was silent for a moment. “I wish you were here. Why’d you have to move so far away? That was pretty damn selfish of you.” A smile was in Jamie’s voice, but they both knew she was only half-kidding.
Mel sighed. “It was what I needed to do. I know you guys still don’t understand why, but things are going well here for me. It was the right move.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if Mel was trying to convince her or herself. Either way, it wouldn’t change the fact that her best friend lived 2,500 miles away and that she seemed happier there.
But she shouldn’t be surprised. With her “issues” and challenging personality, hadn’t she always been the liability in this relationship? From the day they’d met in third grade, it’d been Mel, and then her parents, who were always taking care of her, the little trailer park girl with red hair and buck teeth.
Jamie ran her tongue across her front teeth. Mel’s family had even dished out the two g’s to fix her horrible overbite.
Maybe Mel was tired of looking after her—making sure she didn’t screw up and helping her clean up her messes when she did. It was a lot to ask of any friendship. Jamie was needy and moody—a terrible combination. No wonder Mel had suddenly moved to San Francisco four years ago without so much as a warning.
But maybe it was the right move, because in her absence Jamie had been forced to grow up more than she had in the previous ten years, even if she had to nearly hit rock bottom before she did.
Jamie sighed. “Miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Mel said ruefully. She cleared her throat then added with a lilt in her voice, “When are you coming to visit again? We had so much fun last time. Don’t worry about the ticket. It’s my treat. It would just be great to have you here.”
“I’ll come out again whenever I can, but on one condition...I pay for my own ticket.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just come. But if you need to talk more about Jo coming back—I mean really talk about it—you know I’m always here. If you need me, I’m on the next plane.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. I did want to talk to her, to finally tell her how fucked up it was for her to leave her own kid like that. But being angry all the time is pretty damn exhausting. I was finally letting it all go and then—” Jamie clamped her mouth shut and took a deep breath.
“No one could blame you for being furious with your parents, but you made the right choice. Holding on to all that anger was only hurting you. Still, at some point, you need to sit down and talk to her. Let her know what she put you through all these years. It would be good for both of you.”
“I don’t want to think about her right now. I just want to get on with my life. Besides, she doesn’t get to decide when I’m ready.”
“That’s fair.” Melanie’s tone was slightly patronizing. “I just hope that when you finally feel you are ready it isn’t too late.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jamie said. When Mel didn’t respond, she added, “Promise.”
“Good.”
“I’m exhausted.” Jamie ran her fingers along the old headboard she’d salvaged from a resale shop and re-upholstered with help from Mimi and Ellie. “I’d better get to bed.”
“Okay, but think about what I said. Love ya.”
Jamie closed her eyes and nodded. “You, too.”
* * *
Jamie shuffled through the side door and up the stairs of Ellie’s house, a place that held many fond memories for her.
“Sweetie, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am!” She braced herself and forced a smile.
“You’re early for dinner.” Ellie came down the stairs and crossed the dining room to the kitchen, where Jamie stood in the doorway, patiently awaiting her kiss on the cheek. “Did you come to help your mother?” Ellie raised an eyebrow.
“Actually—”
“You’re not coming for dinner?”
“I had an idea for a painting last night and I really want to work on it today.”
“Right now? Can’t it wait until after dinner?”
“Nazirah says you should strike while the iron is hot.”
“You spoke with her?” A smile animated Ellie’s entire face. If she’d had a tail, Jamie was sure she’d be wagging it right now.
“I did, and we’re meeting over coffee next week. You were right. Nazirah seems pretty cool. I’m looking forward to her class.”
“Jamie, that’s wonderful,” Ellie practically squealed.
“So you’re okay with me skipping dinner tonight?”
Ellie frowned, her arms folded. “I know you were suddenly hit with this great inspiration, but can’t you just write your idea down?”
“It’s more than just the idea.” Jamie realized she was whining like a ten-year-old, but she didn’t care. “It’s the motivation for the painting that I don’t want to lose. I know you don’t understand, but—”
“It’s okay.” Ellie held a hand up, acquiescing. “I’m just glad that you’re so passionate about something.”
“Really?” Jamie released a breath. She was sure it would take at least thirty minutes of cajoling to get Ellie to understand why she had to drop everything and start on the painting right away. The temporary feeling of relief was quickly replaced by anxiety about what she’d really come to tell Ellie. “I’ll make it up to you. We can do lunch later this week.”
“Good. We’re having leftovers from dinner.” Ellie nudged Jamie with her elbow. “And now that we’ve got that settled, what else is on your mind?”
“I wanted to grab my old sketch pads, the ones Dad bought me,” Jamie said, not ready to tell Ellie about Jo’s impromptu visit. She headed down the steps to the basement with Ellie right behind her. “You stored them in the basement, right?”
Ellie smiled, but there was sadness behind her eyes. “I’d forgotten Lou bought you those. He knew even then that one day you’d be an artist.”
Jamie squeezed Ellie’s hand. “The last time Dad and I talked at the hospital, he said he’d be disappointed if I didn’t try my damnedest to be an artist. I promised him I would.
”
“That’s why you’ve been so serious about your painting these past few years.” Ellie put her hand on Jamie’s shoulder.
“It’s not like I didn’t want to do it anyway. I just didn’t think I was good enough. But Dad believed in me. He said he was proud of me.”
“Of course he was. We both are.” Ellie tucked the strands of hair that had fallen over Jamie’s eye behind her ear.
“I haven’t given you guys much to be proud of.” Her voice breaking, Jamie moved toward the middle of the room, her back to Ellie. Since Lou’s death five years ago she’d had plenty of time to regret the way she’d behaved as a rebellious teenager. She was probably responsible for half the gray hair Ellie was hiding under that dye. Sometimes she wondered if her antics had driven Lou to an early grave. After all, she’d given him plenty to worry about.
“Things were rough sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t proud of you.” Ellie squeezed Jamie’s arm, gently tugging it so that they were facing one another. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re a survivor. And you’ve always been so protective of the girls. We had many reasons to be proud of you. I’m sorry if we didn’t tell you that enough.”
“No...you did,” Jamie reassured her. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to lay a guilt trip on the person who meant more to her than anyone else in the world. The one person who hadn’t abandoned her. “I figured you didn’t want me to feel left out when you commended the girls’ accomplishments.” A lump formed in Jamie’s throat and tears pricked the back of her eyes. She cleared her throat, surprised at how quickly the pain and guilt came rushing back.
“That wasn’t it at all. Our praise for you has always been genuine. So when I tell you how proud I am of you, know that I mean every word.” Pain was etched in the lines around Ellie’s mouth as she sat in a nearby chair.
“I’m really lucky you got stuck with me.” Jamie nudged Ellie’s shoulder as she slid into the chair beside her. “You’re worth ten Josephine Charleses.”
“Don’t say that.” Ellie chastised her, but her voice was kind. “I did not get stuck with you. I wanted you here. I’m grateful to Josephine, and you should be, too. Without her, there would be no you.”