I nod slowly, almost dazed. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He reaches out a hand, and we shake briefly. “Congratulations on becoming the new manager.”
“Thank you.”
He scoops up the papers from the bar. “Hopefully, this rain will let up.” He disappears down the hall, returning to his office.
I peer out the front windows at the downpour of rain. “Not likely.”
Internally, I commiserate with the rain. I feel like my emotions are splashing in various directions. This isn’t right. I didn’t earn my position—it was given to me because Callie was fired.
And she’s paying the price for something we did together.
Flooding in many of the lower lying downtown streets has the bulk of local shop owners shutting their doors early.
“I have a few things to take care of here, so just head out whenever you’re ready.”
I nod at Tom. “I’m actually done, now.” I hesitate, resting one palm on the doorframe of his office. “I wanted to see if I could talk to you for a minute.”
Tom waves a hand to one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “Sure. Take a seat.”
I dive right in. “I wanted to know if you wrote me up for what happened between Callie and me, and our violation of the non-fraternization policy.”
Tom leans back in his desk chair. “No, I didn’t.”
My eyes pinch closed briefly. Dammit.
“What’s the problem, Reid?”
I lean forward in my seat, rest my elbows on my knees, and link my fingers together. “I’m confused as to why she got fired, and I didn’t get but a slap on the wrist.”
Tom frowns. “You’ve been here for a while, Reid. We take care of our own.”
“Callie’s been here for three months. She wasn’t one of us?”
My boss releases a tired sigh, irritation etching his features. “Look, Reid. You and I both know things happen.” He gestures with his hand. “We’ve all had weak moments. I just don’t want it becoming a habit—”
Holy shit. He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying. I slowly straighten in my chair.
“Don’t give me that look.” Tom rolls his eyes. “I’m giving you a second chance. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, kid.”
I shake my head. If Callie lost her job, then I should have the same consequence. This is beyond fucked up. “This is wrong, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the situation you’ve put me in.”
My boss’s eyebrows fly up, nearly hitting his hairline. Then he huffs out a surprised laugh. “Jesus, Reid. I try to help a guy out, and this is how you repay me?”
The sudden distaste overpowers me. Bile rises in my throat, but I somehow maintain composure.
I exhale slowly before I rise from my seat. I reach out a hand to Tom, and he shakes it tentatively, uncertainty evident in his expression. Once I release his grip, I take a step back and shove my hands into my pockets.
“Thank you for this opportunity, Tom. But I have to respectfully decline. I quit.”
I exit the office, leaving my stunned and speechless boss behind.
Two weeks later, I’m sitting on my couch, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do with the rest of my life.
How the hell I’m going to make it without Callie.
Someone knocks on my door, and I tear myself from the dent I’ve worn into the couch and open it.
“Happy Birthday, man,” Gray says. His smile falters when he sees my undoubtedly disheveled state. Hygiene hasn’t exactly been a top priority as of late. “Shit, you look like…well, shit.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“I’m just not used to seeing you like this. Get your ass into the shower. Now.” He stares at me, waiting for me to haul ass to the bathroom or something.
“Don’t make me invoke rule number three forty-seven of the friendship code.”
“And what would that be?” We don’t have a damn friendship code. At least not one I’m aware of.
“I’ll carry your ass in there if needed. Seriously, you smell like garbage.”
“Fine.” I make my way to the bathroom and take a long time in the shower, basically wallowing in self-pity for how stupid I’ve acted in every facet of my life. I’ve fucked myself over, royally.
By the time I get out to the living room, I’m feeling somewhat human. Grayson picked up the random fast food bags and pizza boxes.
“Time to open presents.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Even though both of us get each other something for our birthdays. Usually, it’s an expensive bottle of alcohol. One year, he got me a beer of the month subscription.
He tosses a card at me. This I’m not expecting.
I open the card and read the gift message.
Good for unlimited hours of consulting from Grayson Montgomery, financial analyst.
“I don’t get it.”
“You always said you wanted to open your bar. I’ll help you make sure that you can open it without digging yourself into a shithole of financial debt. Plus, I’ll help you prepare all the papers for the bank when you apply.”
“I have money saved up but not enough for that yet.” Hence why it was so fucking stupid to quit my job on a whim. Even if my intentions were in the right place.
“I just talked to Bert last night. I’m guessing you haven’t opened up your birthday card.”
“My birthday card?” Shit. The card was still in my jeans that I chucked to the floor and haven’t bothered to put back on since I quit. “And why were you talking to Bert?”
He shrugs. “He’s switched bars since you left. Ran into him last night and caught up. Now go get the card.”
I make my way to the bedroom and pull the folded card out of my back pocket and return to the living room. What could possibly be in here that has my friend as giddy as a damn schoolgirl? Bert has always been the type to impart words of wisdom, but I doubt any mantra that can be found in a fortune cookie is going to do me much good right now. I open the card, and a check slips out and flutters to the floor.
I read the card quickly before picking up the check.
Reid,
You’re a smart man with a good head on his shoulders. I know you’ve been saving for a while, but here’s a little nudge in the right direction. And don’t even think of returning the check or ripping it up.
Best,
Bert
I grab the check off the floor, and my eyes bug out of my skull as I read the amount on the check. “Fuck.”
“Is this a good fuck or a bad fuck?” Grayson asks.
I hand him the check.
He lets out a low whistle. “Fuck.” He claps me on the back. “Happy Birthday. Looks like you can open your bar now.”
It takes me a week to finally wrap my head around the fact that my dream is going to be a reality.
“Thanks again for helping me. Especially with this”—I wave a hand to the seemingly never-ending rain outside—“god-awful mess going on.”
Grayson grins. “What are friends for?” Then he redirects his attention to his laptop and points the tip of his pen at the screen. “What have you come up with so far?”
“I have some ideas.”
I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for an entire week, writing down plans, crunching numbers, and scouting possible locations for the bar. An available building near the waterfront is perfect for what I have in mind.
One bonus from this nonstop work is the distraction it’s offered me from thinking about her. Because I know I’ve fucked up and have no clue how to fix that. So I’m pouring every bit of energy into this bar.
He leans back in his chair, links his fingers, and slides his hands behind his head. “Let’s hear ’em.”
“I’ve been thinking that the place needs a more intimate feel. Where we’d keep things simple. Like microbrews only on tap. Local ones. And the food would be easy things, like beer and cheese dip, or a meat and cheese tray. A limited menu s
o it wouldn’t be overwhelming. Maybe include two gourmet burgers.” I pause my pacing to gauge his expression.
“Okay.” Grayson nods, appearing thoughtful. “I’m on board so far.” He narrows his eyes at me, and like the best friend he is, he sees it. “But there’s more.”
I walk over to the sliding glass door and stare at the opaqueness created by the onslaught of rain. “I think including the wine component would make it a place people wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“The wine component’s not exactly your forte.” Grayson states this without any harshness—just simple truth.
I shake my head, still peering out at the rain. Turning, I lean back against the sliding glass door. “No, but there is someone who knows and loves wine. Who was raised around good wines.” Turns out, even when I’m trying to push her out of my mind, I just can’t. She’d even become engrained in the base plan of my business. The woman who wants nothing to do with me.
Grayson’s lips press thin, and he squints at me. “How do you propose we get this”—he tilts his head and arches an eyebrow—“someone on board?”
I shake my head and run a hand down the back of my neck, my muscles tense and rigid. I want this person on board with my idea, yes, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her on board with more.
With me.
“Hell if I know.” That’s the only answer I have for him.
“Well, then. We need to come up with two damn good proposals then.” He scoots his chair in closer to our designated workspace. “Let’s get to it.”
A few hours and several cups of coffee later, Grayson and I release tired sighs. Tired but pleased.
Our gazes meet, and for the first time in a while, I feel like things might work out.
31
Callie
“I think I’ve overdosed on rocky road.” Mel sits back on the couch and rubs her stomach like she’s carrying her ice cream to term.
“That’s crazy talk. There’s never too much ice cream.” To emphasize, I dig my spoon into the container and take another glorious bite. My stomach grumbles in response because, yes, this is enough ice cream to feed the entire east coast of Florida. When in a deep spiral of rage, my favorite freezer food is my go-to item. Mel’s just along for the ride and tapping out.
She shifts on the couch, continuing to massage her stomach. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but have you thought about what you’re going to do about a job?”
I reach across her and grab my glass of wine. Because nothing goes better with regret than ice cream washed down with a good red.
The second I told my parents about my job status, they offered to put me on the next plane to Virginia, but I told them no. Even though I went back on a promise to them, I kept thinking about what Reid said. That I’m not my parents. That I don’t have to live the life they’ve planned out for me. I intend to repay every penny they put toward college, but it’ll be on my terms. It felt wrong to go back on a promise to them, but then again, moving away to work at a job I know will be miserable doesn’t seem like a great option either. My mom hung up on me and hasn’t taken my calls since.
“No clue. Don’t care at the moment. All I care about is finding more chocolate chunks.” I continue my search in the half-melted goop in my bowl.
This is pretty much how every night has gone since I got fired from On Tap. You know it’s serious when I’ve busted out the sweatpants. My waist hasn’t felt the presence of a button or zipper in over two weeks, and it’s been glorious. Who needs the potential of a boyfriend and a good job when I have my trusty sweats?
A knock sounds on the door.
“You gonna get that?” I say, because a) I’m nice and comfy in my spot on the couch, and b) the thought of seeing anyone other than Mel is about as appealing as stepping foot in On Tap again. It was bad enough I had to go back the day after being fired to pick up my final check. Even more embarrassing were the pitying glances people sent my way. I can spend the rest of my life on the couch, right? According to my bank account, I have at least six more months until it’s a dire situation.
Mel shoots me a look. “I think you need to. You could use some contact with the outside world.”
I glare but get off the couch. Probably a good idea to move my legs, anyway, because I don’t really want to become one of those cautionary tales that people tell high school kids. Oh, you think you’re invincible? Did you hear about that Callie girl who sat on the couch too long and died of blood clots that went straight to her lungs? Poor girl. She was found clutching a melted bowl of ice cream in one hand and a remote control in the other.
Yeah…I’ve maybe gone a touch past pathetic and am now teetering in the deranged category.
My legs ache, and I realize I haven’t moved from the camp I’d made on the couch in far longer than I’d imagined.
“This better be my Chinese takeout,” I grumble to Mel.
Instead of the delivery guy, the one guy I’d just told to screw off stands in my doorway.
The sight of him—his eyes imploring me, filled with enough angst to overshadow a middle school dance—is too much. I’m not ready for this.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
Reid’s hand flies up to the back of his neck, and he at least has the decency to look remorseful. “I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re damn right.” I move to shut the door in his face, but he plants his foot against the wood, stopping me mid-swing.
“Give me just a minute. Please.” He looks at me with those deep-brown eyes, and dammit, I don’t have enough fight in me to turn him away when he wants to explain something. It must be the blood clots.
“You have one minute.”
“Okay, I’ll make it quick then. I quit On Tap.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I can tell this is uncomfortable for him. As it should be. He has some nerve to come here after the bullshit he pulled at the bar.
“Why? You were their new manager. I thought you’d be more than happy about that.” Ugh. I hate how bitter I sound. It wasn’t even my dream job, but it still irks me because I’ve never been fired. This has been a month of firsts. First time opening my heart to a guy, first time getting it stomped on, first time losing my job because of him.
“It wasn’t right how Tom treated you. I should have been fired, too.”
“Such a martyr. Is that the game you’re playing? That you have to one-up me, even when I lose my job? This isn’t a game, Reid. This is my life.”
Sometime in the next few days, I need to search for a new job. Maybe. Or maybe I should just get it over with and call my parents.
Blood clots in my lung seem preferable to that.
His hands clench into fists, and I can tell he’s fighting to keep his cool. We always were volatile. Like pulsing a daiquiri mix in the blender without the lid.
“I came here because I wanted you to know I’m starting a new business venture. I want to open a small brew shop that will serve specialty taps, a small menu of food, and possibly wine.”
“That’s great, Reid. So happy for you. Gold star for you.” I can’t help the sarcasm. I’m more bitter than those damn IPAs he loves so much.
“Would you be interested in going into business with me? I need an expert on wine, and who better than you?”
A laugh escapes me. I can’t help it because Reid needing my help? After what he’s done? He must have hit his head because he is straight-up delusional.
His expression changes from hopeful to both eyebrows slanting toward the bridge of his nose. “It’d be fifty-fifty.”
“I don’t care what the percentage of ownership is, Reid. I would never go into business with you. You need to figure your shit out. I may be jobless, but I’m not desperate.”
His palms fly to his face, and he mutters under his breath. “Fuck. I’m just fucking everything up.” His hands fall to his sides, and I’m noticing for the first time that his eyes look red and a little puffy. “I’m sorry, Callie. I should have sta
rted with that.”
“That would have been nicer.” But still wouldn’t have helped. If anything, Reid has taught me that it was a mistake to jump into dating again.
“I wish I could take that night back. I was an asshole and jealous as hell after seeing you with Grayson.”
“You were.” I fold my arms and lean against the doorframe. Then again, I wasn’t much better at my drunken karaoke. Not one of my finer moments.
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Nothing. We’re done. You did me a favor. People always show their true colors eventually. You just showed your hand earlier than others and saved me a lot of time, so thanks.”
“You can’t say that. What about the past couple of months? Those just mean nothing?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Lies. So many lies. But what am I supposed to say? Um, yeah, you meant a helluva lot to me, and even though you had your sweet moments, you still acted like a complete jackass. And my heart can’t take any more torture.
He shakes his head. “I just can’t accept that. I know there’s something between us. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”
“You can think whatever you want, but I’m not changing my mind.”
“We’ll see,” he says.
“If that’s all you had to say, I’m going to shut the door now.” Before he can say anything else, I toe the edge of the door, and it swings shut.
As soon as I turn around, Mel is on me, wrapped in one of our blankets and bouncing on her toes. “Oh my God, did he come over here to win you back?”
“Yes.” I hesitate, frowning in confusion. “Well, I don’t know. He wants me as a business partner.”
“I can’t believe you told him no.”
“I’m not a doormat. He can’t just act like that and expect me to come running back to him.” No matter how much I want to.
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