by M. E. Carter
Kiersten purses her lips. “Well, that’s the biggest load of horse shit I’ve ever heard.”
I bark out a laugh. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly how many times have you seen people dance in here?”
“You did the other night.”
A blush creeps up her face. When things are slow, which is almost always, she takes a minute to go shimmy on the dance floor. The few regular patrons we have seem to love when she makes them partner up with her. While I’m glad they’re happy, part of me hates it. Kiersten just comes alive on that dance floor, her smile and laughter uncontrollable from exhilaration. Whenever she dances, everyone around her stops what they’re doing to watch her and I find myself irritated. I want to be the only one dancing with her, the only one watching her move to the music. But instead, I have to contain myself behind the bar watching with everyone else.
Kiersten licks her lips and clears her throat. “Well, yes. Besides then. When is anyone other than me dancing?”
“The reception is the only time I can think of.”
“Exactly,” she says like it’s the obvious answer. Which it is but I’m not sure what she’s getting at quite yet. “You say you want this place to be more of a premier bar, but it’s got this funky, old-school country-western vibe to it. Like this should be a dance hall and have live music every night for a bunch of seventy-year-olds to hang out.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I’m going for. What do you suggest?”
“First things first.” Her eyes brighten as she looks around the room and I can practically see the ideas as they hit her. I’m not sure which is more interesting—hearing what she has to say or watching her in her element. “Take down the railing. There’s no reason for it and it’s ugly. Once it’s gone, we can fill in all this space with more tables and chairs, kind of make everything spread out a little bit. Maybe get some new, updated furniture.”
Kiersten walks toward the stage and begins inspecting it. “Is this even the original design? It looks like it was extended at some point.”
Looking at where she’s pointing, I see exactly what she means. The joints don’t fit together quite right and the wear on the different parts is significantly different.
“You’re right. Think we should go back to the old design?”
She nods and keeps canvassing the area, probably trying to figure out where the original structure is. “I do. If I’m seeing it right, it’ll cut the stage in half which gives even more room. You can even add a pool table over here.”
I chuckle. “Do you want Dwayne to ever go home? He’ll never leave if we get a pool table.”
She smiles at me and it hits me right in the gut. I love how carefree and lively she is. Kiersten is always this way at work. It makes me wonder if she’s this happy-go-lucky in her home life, too. Not that I’ll ever find out. Still, I can’t help my own curiosity.
“We’ll just put a bow on it and tell him it’s our gift to him for being such a good customer,” she says with a laugh. “But seriously. I don’t know if the last owner was planning to have lots of live music or concerts or something, but this area is wasted space we could be taking advantage of. We could keep the original design for things like karaoke night or, oh! Trivia night. That’s always fun. Interesting things to get people engaged and draw a crowd. Have five-dollar buckets of beer on those nights and do some easy marketing on social media. This place will be hopping in no time.”
“What about the dance floor?”
“With all the extra space, we can move it over, add tables around it, and voilà. A whole new feel.”
Looking around, I rub my bottom lip absentmindedly trying to envision all the ideas she has. My imagination can’t necessarily see it, but even from a logical standpoint, everything she’s suggesting makes sense.
“That sounds feasible actually. And with the exception of labor and some supplies, it may not cost much.”
“And,” she adds excitedly, “it’ll probably only take a day or two to pull off which means not closing the bar for very long.”
“Not a bad idea. Just need to hire some labor and go check the home improvement store for a price list.” I run my hand down my face, already tired from being here so much. Having Kiersten means I’m not always at the front, but living on the property means I can’t get away from my job either. I’m not complaining. It’s just the reality of being a business owner.
“Are you okay?”
I look over at her, confused by her question and the concern in her eyes. “What? Oh yeah. Just tired. I feel like I work non-stop.”
“You do. You need some time for your brain to rest.”
I scoff. “No, I need my brain to work faster to figure out some solutions so I can take some real time off.”
Kiersten purses her lips. I know that look. It’s the same one my dad used to give me when I would say something he not only didn’t agree with, but thought was ridiculous. It wouldn’t end there. “The look” was a precursor to him being in my face, spewing shit about what a loser I was and how I’d never amount to anything. Of course, he didn’t stick around long enough to see if he was right or not. Douchebag.
I push thoughts of my asshole dad out of my mind, knowing Kiersten’s expression isn’t actually the same, just triggered an unwelcome memory. “Your brain won’t do that if it doesn’t have some downtime. I don’t mean sleeping. I mean a full mental break. Why don’t you get out of here for a while? Come with me to a barbecue tomorrow.”
My eyebrows lift slightly at the offer. I know it’s not a date, but it’s still an extended invitation to spend time together outside of work. Part of me wants to say yes immediately. The other part knows agreeing would be testing my own boundaries. “I appreciate that, but I can’t just show up at someone’s house uninvited.”
“It’s not uninvited. I’m inviting you,” she argues. “And It’s not a random person’s house. It’s Jaxon Hart’s best friend’s house.”
I think back through my memories quickly. “Do I know his best friend?”
“I don’t know. Do you follow the San Antonio Steer?”
“As much as anyone else in town.” Which is a lot. Every football fan follows the hometown team. It’s like a requirement to live in Texas.
“Then you probably do know Heath Germaine.”
“Oh, yeah. I do know him. Did he come to the reception?”
Kiersten laughs and we head back over to the bar as we wait for the first customers to arrive. “How could you miss him? He was the best man and he’s huge.”
“I was a little too enamored by Jaxon’s dad. The man is a legend and he was in my bar. I almost got teary.”
Kiersten rolls her eyes playfully and ties her apron around her waist since she’s waitressing tonight. “You men are all alike with that hero-worship crap. But if it helps, Jason Hart will be at the barbecue tomorrow. Does that give you an incentive to go?”
Honestly, yes. But it still feels weird to show up at some pro ball player’s humble abode—two degrees of separation or not.
“Kiersten, I can’t just show up at Heath Germaine’s house for a barbecue.” I grab a couple of limes out of the fridge and prepare to slice them. Kiersten grabs the lemons to do the same while she keeps trying to pressure me.
“Yes, you can. He’s my friend, too. Look, I’ll text him right now.” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and relays what she’s typing. “Can. I. Bring. A. Friend. To. The. Barbecue?”
Just a few seconds later, the phone chimes. She looks at it and smiles, turning it around to show me.
It reads, “Of course. The more the merrier.”
I could keep arguing but in truth, I do need to get out of this place for a few hours to decompress. And in general, I’m curious to see what kind of home a pro athlete with a multi-million-dollar contract lives in. I keep that bit to myself, though.
“Fine. I’ll go. But only so I can be somewhere other than Walmart for food. And to catch up with Jaxon for a bit.�
�
They aren’t total lies. I just keep the part about seeing what Kiersten’s like outside of work to myself.
I sigh at how pathetic I am. She didn’t even ask me on a date and I’ve already caved.
TEN
Kiersten
“I do it, mama! I do it!” Carson is practically hysterical as he jumps up and down, making sure I don’t accidentally ring the doorbell. Pressing buttons is his newest favorite thing. Riding on an elevator with him is an adventure because you never know how many floors you’re going to visit when his sneaky little fingers start lighting things up.
Thankfully there’s only one at Heath and Lauren’s monstrosity of a house, unless you count the buttons on the gate code. Fortunately, Carson couldn’t reach those from his car seat and had no choice but to let me do it or we’d still be stuck outside. This time, though, he won’t give me any grace.
“I do it!” He yells one last time before I pick him up and balance him on my hip.
“I know, I know. Here ya go.”
Leaning forward, he stretches out his little finger to accomplish his goal. You would think he just won the lottery with how delighted he is at ringing a doorbell.
It takes a few seconds until Lauren’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Hang on, I’m coming.”
I try to wait patiently while the pint-sized holy terror runs in circles around my legs. He loves coming here. It’s literally his home away from home. I just hope he doesn’t get too used to living the posh life. It is highly unlikely I’ll ever come into enough money for something like this.
Don’t misunderstand, I get their need for a home in a gated community complete with several forms of security. His job practically demands it. But life would be easier for all of us if I could just let myself in like Lauren does at my small apartment.
The door finally flies open and my best friend stands there with a huge smile on her face, an even bigger margarita in her hand. “Carson!” she yells and picks up the wiggling toddler to kiss all over his face.
“Yep. That’s how it works. I’m irrelevant now,” I grumble with no actual malice. This is the way it should be.
“If you were cute and tiny I’d snuggle you too.” Lauren lets Carson go and shouts, “Uncle Heath is in the back yard!” as he runs away.
“Please don’t snuggle me. That would just be weird.”
“Which is why it’s good you’re not cute and tiny. Come on.” She gestures for me to follow her. “Party’s out back.”
We walk through the immaculate living room and pass an even more immaculate kitchen. If I was a chef, I’d never leave that room. I may not be much of a cook but even I recognize an industrial-grade, six-burner gas stove is something to covet. Good thing I’m more the lounge around type. The almost floor to ceiling glass doors leading out to the patio are wide open revealing the stunning backyard set up that is my favorite part of their home.
The large covered patio has an amazing outdoor kitchen on the right. Next to it is a beautiful table that could seat at least twelve people. The rest of the space is dedicated to relaxation with cushion covered lounge chairs, a couple of hammocks, and of course a giant TV for watching whatever sport is on. Looks like today Lauren got her way since it’s a replay of the NCAA college gymnastics championship meet.
Beyond that, the oversized lap pool is surrounded by a wrought-iron gate to keep rambunctious kids out. Any given day the term “rambunctious kid” might be referring to one of my adult friends, but today it’s just poor Carson who is staring through the spindles hoping one of us will have pity on him and let him in the water.
Sorry kid. You’ll have to ask Uncle Heath later.
Speaking of, Heath is busy manning the grill as he chats with some of his teammates and their significant others. Or at least I assume those are his teammates based on their physique and Steers logoed wardrobes.
“Hey Heath,” I say and wave to his friends as I approach.
They all greet me kindly, including Heath. His eyes light up and he pulls away from the food long enough to give me a hug. “Hey girl! Where’s my little man?”
Heath and I have come a long way from when we first met. Back when he and Lauren started dating, she was injured and kind of a mess because of missing an entire season of competition. I jumped in to help her, like I have since we were teenagers, and Heath hated it. It was as if he didn’t understand who I thought I was barging my way into his territory when he had it all under control.
That may be an over-exaggerated version of the beginnings of our relationship, but it’s pretty accurate from my perspective. Little did I know that he was actually in love with Lauren and feeling wildly protective due to his own issues. Once I figured that out, I backed off a bit and let him take care of my best friend.
It was around this time when I found out I was pregnant with Carson. Things were starting to smooth over as Heath and I got to know each other. But then Spence died, and my entire life went into a tailspin. Lauren immediately jumped in to help me, again, like we always have since high school, and that’s when Heath suddenly figured out that she and I were not just friends. We’re more like family. In Heath’s mind, that means we were all family together.
We’ve been friends ever since. I’m never quite sure if he likes me or just my kid, but that part doesn’t bother me at all. As long as you are good to my child, I don’t mind being part of the package deal. Besides, the real winner here is Carson and for that, I will always be grateful to Heath.
“He has his poor little face smooshed up to the gate, staring at the pool.” I pout my lips, over-exaggerating how sad the moment is.
Heath laughs lightly and looks over my shoulder. “Aw. That breaks my heart. I think his Uncle Heath needs to help him out. Lauren, where’s the sunscreen?”
She looks up from the conversation she’s having and furrows her brow at him. “Um, since when are you worried about getting tan lines?”
“Since Carson needed to go swimming and his little white baby skin isn’t as durable as mine against sunburns.”
She points at him in understanding. “That makes more sense. I’ll grab it. It’s in the laundry room.”
I shake my head at the pair of them. “Of course, you have sunscreen for him. It’s the gentle for baby kind, too, isn’t it?”
“You know it. I got a value pack on sale at Costco. I’m ready for him and all the other kids you have.”
I swat at him playfully. “You shut your face with that delusional talk. One is enough for this single mom, thank you very much. I’m already worn out.”
“This is why I like to take my little man outside in the afternoons and do manly things like mow the lawn and pull weeds. Gets that energy out and teaches him important life skills.”
I hold up my hand as I have a lightbulb moment. “Hold on. Are you the one who taught my kid it’s okay to pee in the grass?”
Heath’s expression turns sheepish as his friends snicker and chide him. “Uh, well ya see, we were doing some yard work and when you gotta go, you gotta go.”
“Heath!” I exclaim. “He mooned the entire street in front of the daycare the other day when I dropped him off.”
The other guys roar with laughter and at least one of the women I haven’t met yet says, “Y’all all think it’s funny until it’s you the daycare director is side-eyeing.”
I point at her with a, “Yes. Thank you,” and turn back to my friend with a sigh. “I should have known who he got that from.”
Heath shrugs a shoulder and flips some burners on the grill, probably to avoid looking at me. “It’s a man thing. You ladies wouldn’t understand.”
I scoff at his excuse. “The next time I see you whip it out on the field because it’s a man thing I might believe you.”
“Uh… why is my boyfriend whipping things out in public? Do I wanna know?” Lauren asks as she saunters up to us, sunscreen in one hand and a drink for me in the other.
“Thanks.” I take it and b
egin to sip. Mmm. Good.
Heath immediately snatches the sunscreen from her. “I’ll take this. And I’ll hand you this.” He gives her the spatula. “And I’m going to see my way out of this awkward moment. I have some swimming to do.” He quickly kisses Lauren on the cheek, then turns on his heel and yells, “Carson!” as he hurries away.
Lauren looks at me, confusion all over her face. “Why am I suddenly in charge of the food?”
“Your boyfriend got caught teaching my kid how to make bad choices.”
She thinks for a second before saying, “Sounds about right. But that doesn’t explain why I’m stuck cooking. I’ve never used a grill.”
“I got it.” One of Heath’s teammates takes the spatula from her and begins manning the burgers and whatever other goodies Heath has tucked in the aluminum foil. This guy must have the same fear of Lauren burning the food like I do. Or burning down the house. It’s too nice of a place to risk it.
She takes the next few minutes to introduce me to everyone. I was right—almost everyone is somehow affiliated with the Steer. They’re all friendly enough, but we don’t really have much in common and as sometimes happen at events like this, the conversations eventually taper off between groups of friends.
I end up settling into one of the lounge chairs, while Lauren answers the door again, and watch as the two men in my life finally make it through the gate and climb in the water. A couple of other guys join them and before long, they’re tossing Carson back and forth making him squeal with delight. I’m surprised they can catch him with how much sunscreen Heath slathered on Carson’s little body. No wonder Heath bought the value pack.
“For having a single mom and no dad, that kid sure has more male interaction,” Lauren declares as she sits next to me, her thoughts mirroring my own.
“Seriously. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s just so darn cute that people gravitate toward him or because Heath is the best.”
“Probably a little bit of both.”
“What’s a little bit of both?”