So Wicked

by Melissa Marino

  With his mouth hanging open and the turnover inches from lips, he asked “Why?”

  I jerked it away from him and tossed it back in the box. “We are not eating any of these.”

  “You did.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the brownie is the best, and it was gone. Plus, you have chocolate on your face.”

  “Fuck,” I said, wiping at my mouth. “In any case, I don’t want to see anything from that woman, including herself, in my bar again. Got it?”

  “What is the deal with you and her?”

  I folded my arms in front of my chest. “She’s Aaron’s ex-wife.”

  Wells’s face went to shock, and for added drama, he gripped his chest. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. So, there’s no way she’d work out here.”

  His eyes shifted around like he was contemplating something before he shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”

  “You don’t know what?” I snapped again. “There’s no fucking way.”

  “I mean, was it terrible? Is there a reason we still can’t do business?”

  “Yes, it was and that is the reason.”

  “Too bad,” he said. “She’s the sweet queen of San Luis Obispo. Everyone I told about her being a possible addition was stoked and thought our infusion drinks plus her liquor treats were an awesome match.”

  “Well, it’s not. No way would—”

  “Business is business, boss,” he said, interrupting me. “I’m not in any way trying to tell you how to run your bar, but you should consider it if it is best for the business.”

  Before I could stop him, he snatched the turnover from the box and bolted toward the office.

  I was so irritated by everything. For starters, the fact that Wells was right and I fucking knew it. She would be good for business, but there was no way I could see her all the time without having to be on some sort of blood pressure medication/vodka IV combination to keep my shit together. Not only did she fuck over my best friend, but also she left everything behind in Chicago. Her job, her friends, me included, and her life meant so little to her that taking off without so much as a good-bye hurt us all.

  I could never, ever forget that. I didn’t know if there was even room to possibly understand. The thought of her being around me daily was too much for me to consider, even from my own personal standpoint. We were such close friends, the three of us, and watching the destruction she left behind was one of the most fucked-up things I’ve ever had to witness. I couldn’t be reminded of that every day.

  And even if I did, I couldn’t do that to Aaron. He was like a brother to me.

  Unless.

  I was adamant about running this place with Aaron as the silent partner. It was my chance to prove myself, to not only him, but also to my own self. I had been working with Aaron for years, and Ginger was originally going to be his joint venture with his brother, Abel. When Abel needed out of the partnership, Aaron came to me, and I bought out Abel’s share with the money I’d been squirreling away for years. Some from work, but most of it was my inheritance from my parents since I was their only child.

  While major decisions were a thing we discussed together, the everyday goings-on was all on me. While the bar wasn’t open yet, I had done a decent job so far, and I didn’t want that to change. However, Aaron was the pro. He had successfully opened, funded, or oversaw several of the most elite bars in Chicago, along with a few high-end boutique hotels.

  The most recent “business” development was going to warrant an immediate fucking phone call to him.

  I retrieved my phone from my back pocket and pressed my finger to his name in my contacts.

  “Hey,” he said, answering. “How’s the Chicago-turned-California boy?”

  I snorted. “I’ll never be California. There’s too much Chicago blood running through me. How’s things there?”

  “Good. Hot as hell, but that’s August in Chicago for you.”

  “And the girls?”

  I could practically hear the grin before he even answered.

  “Perfect,” he said. “Well, Delilah asked me yesterday when I was going to have to start using a walker since I’m getting so old.”

  “Wow. Seven years old and already getting her uncle Marshall’s sass. I love that little girl,” I said.

  “Having you and Abel as prominent male figures in her life doesn’t exactly sit well with me. I’m glad I’m as straightlaced as I am to give her some balance,” he said with a laugh.

  I, of course, understood his concern. His younger brother Abel walked the line of dumbass enough to warrant his supervision around children. However, since landing the sweetheart of Chicago, Evelyn, he had chilled out a bunch and, dare I say, matured. Now me? There was almost room for me to be offended with Aaron for lumping me into the same category as Abel’s idiot ways, but with my crass mouth and “gives no fucks” attitude, I could see his point.

  “And Callie?” I asked.

  “Great. School’s out for summer so she’s resting up her overworked teacher brain. Things are really good here,” he said.

  That guy had been through the fucking wringer with Lexie. While things with Callie hadn’t always been smooth sailing, it was nice to hear.

  “So?” he asked. “What do you have for me?”

  I took in a deep breath. “Dude. You are not going to fucking believe who came in—”

  “What, Delilah?” Aaron shouted. “Sorry, man. Hold on a second.”

  I paused, preparing to tell him about Lexie as he dealt with Delilah.

  “What is it?” Aaron asked.

  “Where’s Mom?” Delilah’s small voice said. “I need to ask her something.”

  “Your mom isn’t here right now,” Aaron replied.

  Their voices muffled during the rest of their exchange, but it gave me enough time to digest what I’d just heard.

  Mom.

  Your mom.

  I’d heard Delilah call Callie “mom” before, but something struck me this time around. And it all had to do with Lexie, Delilah’s biological mom. Anger flooded through me recalling the months and years that followed after Lexie was gone. There were no words for the pain and confusion that encircled Aaron, while doing his damnedest to be the best father he could. And he was. He was the most amazing fucking father I’d ever known aside from my own.

  The years rolled on, and Aaron created a life for just him and his daughter, but you could sense his loneliness. It wasn’t until he hired Callie to be the nanny and sparks flew that everything changed.

  He found his soul mate. He found fucking peace. And he found what I thought he was missing the most—a mother for his daughter.

  That wasn’t Lexie. It never was.

  And who the fuck was I to invite all that hurt and pain back into his life by telling him our paths had crossed? He’d been through enough anguish. He didn’t deserve any more, not when he had Callie and his daughter had her mom.

  “Sorry,” Aaron said, returning to me. “Always girl drama. There is so much estrogen in this house, I’m actually considering getting a male dog to help balance things out. What were you saying?”

  My eyes scanned around the bar, taking it all in. “Man, we’ve done well here.”

  “We haven’t done anything yet but decorate, Marshall,” Aaron said. “Cosmetic shit and a catchy hook will only get you so far.”

  “I know that, but…” I trailed off as I picked my next words. “I can just feel it. We have something that’s solid.”

  Aaron let out a small sigh. “This is your first baby. For all intents and purpose, it’s completely yours. You’ve put it all together yourself. I’m just the silent partner. However, I’ve done this enough times to know there is only one thing for certain.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “In the bar business, nothing is certain.”

  “Well, that’s both logical and a major buzzkill. What happened to plain old optimism?”

  “Of cours
e be optimistic, but you also have to do a lot of other things. You need be smart and savvy. You need to work relentlessly and leave no room for error. Most importantly, in my opinion? Surrounding yourself with the best staff, and I do mean best. You will see potential in some, but there will be others that hit you hard with an impression. Those are the ones you want to hold on tight to.”

  I let his words sink in, but he said one final thing before I had the chance to respond.

  “I’m trusting you Marshall to do what is best, not for yourself, but for Ginger,” he said. “I gotta run, but let me know if you need any more help.”

  His words stung my heart, but mostly at my ego. Aaron and I had been friends long enough, and been through enough shit together, for me to get he wasn’t trying to be condescending when he mentioned needing more help. It was only my interpretation. However, his words echoed through my brain.

  “I’m trusting you, Marshall.”

  “If you need any more HELP.”

  I wasn’t going to let Ginger or Aaron, who was trusting me so completely, down.

  I wasn’t going to let myself down.

  I wasn’t going to fail.

  This was my time to do something I was proud of, to have a passion for my work. A white-collar job years ago left me unfulfilled and bored as hell. It was too uptight and suffocating. So I left it and took a job as a bartender, working for Aaron. Bartender then turned to manager to now owner. I’d worked toward something of substance for so many years, had been waiting for my time, but I didn’t even know it was opening my own bar until the opportunity was presented to me. Now that I knew my purpose, I was going wrestle it into a success. I wouldn’t stop at anything less.

  I knew what I had to do.

  “Wells,” I shouted. “Call Lexie—shit, Alexis—and tell her to get back here.”

  I probably should’ve gone to her, but this is where everything was happening. If she was going to see what I was doing, she needed to be part of the whole damn thing.

  “All right!” he called back.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled. “Wells?” I called to him again.

  I sighed and slammed my fist against the marble surface of the bar. “Say fucking please to her.”

  * * *

  I was staring at the blank screen of my iPad, pretending to be doing something important while I waited for her to come back. Wells said she was pleasant enough and that she said she’d be on her way soon.

  That was a fucking hour ago.

  This was going to be temporary thing. I was going to let her do her dessert thing with us until the opening, and when everything was up and running, she was out. This was strictly a business move and nothing else.

  And at this rate, if I was going to have to keep waiting for her, I was—

  “Marshall,” she said in an annoyed toned as she walked in the front door. “Ready to play nice?”

  “Are you always so fucking late?”

  “Late for what? Coming back here after you all but kicked me out and then summoned me back?”

  “Whatever,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Can we just do this?”

  “Answer my question first,” she said, tapping her foot. “Play nice?”

  “Work. I’ll work nice with you, okay?”

  “So you’ve decided we can work together?” she asked.

  “I haven’t decided shit yet. I haven’t seen if we can even be in the same room together, but I need to do what’s best for my business. I can only assume the same goes for you.”

  Her chest lifted against her folded arms as she inhaled deeply. As she blew her breath out, she grasped at the end of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Fine.”

  I walked around to the back of the bar, picking up a highball glass. “Drink?” I asked.

  She gave me a dirty look as she approached. “It’s what? Not even one o’clock in the afternoon?”

  “So the hell what? Never had a liquid lunch?”

  “No. I have a job,” she said, sliding onto one of the barstools. “I’ve always had a job.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “It was a fucking gesture. I had some of your shit to eat. I was extending the same to you in drink form.”

  “Well, perhaps I should. Wells has certainly put your cocktail making at a level of something special.”

  “Do you want one or not?”

  “Sure.”

  “Shit,” I huffed.

  “Did you always swear this much? It’s not very becoming for a business owner.”

  The sides of her light-pink-glossed lips turned up as she tried to hide a laugh. She was pressing my buttons, pushing to see how far she could until I snapped. My grip on the glass tightened with annoyance, and I knew it would break in my hand if I didn’t chill out.

  “My…language,” I said, setting the glass down gently, “is a little more colorful these days than when I was a trader.”

  “Not the only thing that’s colorful. That’s some serious ink, Marshall,” she said, motioning her hand across my body.

  “Yeah. Didn’t you throw a tantrum when Aaron got one?”

  She winced at the mention of his name, and while there was satisfaction in seeing her in pain, I wasn’t enough of a dick to fully enjoy it. If there was any lesson learned, it was that I could push her buttons, too. Also, Aaron’s name was off the table. It was better off that way. Considering I was lying to my best friend until the business was thriving and he could see how it all worked out, I’d rather his name stay out of any conversation.

  “We had some ice earlier, but Wells had to bring that in for training of the new employees. The machine isn’t up and running yet so, it’s not a completely functional bar at the moment,” I said, changing the subject. I glanced at the fruit and garnish tray to see what we had available. I knew I had some extra fruit and shit from the training for the cocktail infusions.

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  “Whiskey? Vodka? I don’t remember—”

  “Gin.”

  As soon as she said it, I did, in fact, remember. I remember thinking all those years ago how odd it was for a woman to drink gin straight up. No tonic. Just ice and a few limes. All the girls I knew would sip their beers to try and keep up with the boys or would get foo-foo fruity drinks while pounding shots.

  I mentally went through the gin drinks we’d be offering, and after a glance to see what fruit was left over, I knew what I’d make her. I grabbed a cucumber and a couple limes, setting them down on a clean cutting board reserved for making garnishes and add-ins.

  “I know you’re not usually a tonic person, but this drink is with club soda, cucumber, and lime. It will be right up your alley,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “How did you know about the tonic?”

  “I remembered when you said gin,” I said, shrugging. I grabbed a small knife from under the bar and started cutting several thin slices of cucumber. “Plus, we used to hang out a lot and drinking was involved often.”

  She didn’t answer me, but rather sat quiet, watching me make her cocktail. I dropped the cucumber and lime rinds that I cut into strips into the bottom of the glass. As I began to muddle them together, my eyes glanced in her direction. Her gaze had moved from my hands to the mirrored shelves lining the wall behind me. Turning my head to see what she was staring at, I could tell that aside from the neatly arranged bottles of booze reflecting off the back, there wasn’t anything but her own reflection to look at.

  I added some sugar to the glass, along with some lime juice, the only sounds surrounding us were the muddler hitting the glass and Wells’s barbaric chuckle from the office. Another covert peek at her and I saw that the gawking she was doing at her own reflection hadn’t changed.

  What the fuck is she staring at? Yeah, Lexie. You’re still hot.

  A chill ran across me as I added gin to the glass, when the impact of my thoughts hit me square in the chest. It almost knocked me off balance, the almost vulgar path my brain took me to—You’re stil
l hot.

  Well. Of course she was. She always was. You’d have to be blind not to notice, and people always did—men and women couldn’t help but look at her. Deep down I knew that thought that passed across my mind was just that: a thought. It didn’t mean a damn thing aside from it being a simple observation.

  Besides, I never looked at her like that once Aaron staked his claim. She was always Aaron’s girl, and even if she was the one that caught my eye first, it worked out the way it was supposed to.

  But now? She wasn’t Aaron’s girl. She was the girl that broke my best friend’s heart and left her daughter. At the moment, there was nothing attractive about that.

  “What are you daydreaming about?” Lexie asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

  “What were you?” I snapped back. “You’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror for God knows how long.”

  My attention turned back to her drink. After I added some club soda, I dipped a straw into the cocktail. Squeezing the top of the straw, I then lifted it to my mouth to taste it. Perfect. I tossed my straw in the garbage, plunged a new one into the drink, and slid it across the bar to her.

  She narrowed her eyes down at it and then up to me. “Are you allowed to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Taste it first?”

  I tossed the muddler and knife into the sink. “Ah. Yeah.”

  “Isn’t that like double-dipping?”

  “I gave you a new straw,” I said, raising my voice. “And I, or we, don’t do it all the time. We’re trying out a lot of different things here and what’s important for quality control.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, lifting the glass to her mouth. “Whatever you say, Marshall.”

  “Jesus,” I mumbled.

  She wasn’t going to rest until she drove me to the point of insanity. Was I going to be able to handle this?

  Chill the fuck out, Marshall. Just stand your ground and let her know she’s not getting under your skin.

  I busied myself cleaning up, avoiding her reaction as she tasted my drink. I knew she’d come at me with some smart-ass remark about it or complain about this or that, so I was biding my time until she did.

  At one point she set the glass down, without saying a word, and turned her head around to avoid again looking anywhere but at me.