I try to mimic her, and this time, I knock down seven pins.
“Yeah, baby!” I yelp.
I do a victory dance on the lane to The Weeknd’s “Can’t Feel My Face.” The shoes might be wildly unattractive, but they’re perfect for dancing. I do my dance down the lane until I’m at the pins.
I freeze when I hear Carolína’s voice over the loudspeaker. “No moonwalking on the lane.” She’s at the shoe rental counter with her head leaning down over a microphone.
I do as she said and march my ass back to my seat.
Suzanne and Rory offer me high fives and then take their turns.
While I should be wondering what is happening with Adam and Jessica, I find myself having a great time. By the way, the weight of the ball has nothing to do with your actual weight.
We order a pizza and eat in between turns.
Suzanne is sharing stories of the women who come into the salon. “You think bartenders hear crazy stories, try being a hairstylist. People tell you their whole lives,” she says.
We learn the McKennas are buying a time-share in Aruba, Conner Blander is going to Purdue on a full scholarship, Verona Napoli is having an affair with someone she works with at the post office, and there’s a new Starbucks opening on Main.
Rory is telling jokes that are super corny and perfect for Suzanne’s taste. I’m happy they’re dating. Sue deserves a good guy in her life, someone who treats her like a princess and makes her smile. He seems genuinely happy to have her by his side. When he looks at her, you know everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him.
Somewhere around the sixth frame, I get my first strike, and when I turn around for my congratulations, it’s to see that Suzanne and Rory are holding each other by the computer, foreheads brushed up together, and they’re smiling.
A wave of melancholy passes over me. They’re in the midst of new relationship bliss. Every piece of information learned about the other is exciting, and the anticipation of what’s next makes every date fun. Every brush of the hand, look of the eye, and shy smile shared leaves you with goose bumps. They’re in this awesome phase of their relationship, and here I am, playing third wheel.
When our tenth frame is over, I rise before the next game begins. “I’m gonna get out of here,” I say to Suzanne and Rory. “I’ll be at The Bucking Bronco if you wanna stop by after.”
Suzanne tilts her head. “You sure?”
I thumb toward the door. “Yeah. I just remembered I have to clean out the cooler.”
She gives me a wary eye but doesn’t say another word. With a hug, she bids me good-bye and goes back to her date.
It’s a weekday, so the streets are busy but not packed. Most people are home for dinner. The ice cream parlor is the busiest store on the street, followed by the candy shop that stays open late in the summer. The restaurants are lit up, but businesses like the dry cleaner and drug store are closed.
For as big as my appetite for life is, my thirst for conventional small-town living is grand. I can’t imagine living anywhere but Cedar Ridge. We have a gorgeous Main Street with cobblestone sidewalks and gas lanterns lining the road. Our ten thousand residents like to shop, which has brought some brand-name clothing stores to our strip. We have our own concert hall where Emma used to perform when she was a kid, a top-notch sports program that Luke played in, and a dance studio where I spent many days after school.
A couple passes by with their hands entwined. They nod and wish me a good evening, which I return. My parents hold hands like that. My grandparents did, too. I know I don’t show it, but deep down, I really hope to find someone who wants to hold my hand. Growing up in a family that truly cares for one another shows you that finding the right partner to share your life with brings you nothing but joy.
By the time I get to The Bucking Bronco, the place is pretty quiet. Anyone who came for an after-work drink has gone home. There isn’t a Reds game on or else we’d be packed. The TVs are showing the Pirates game, SportsCenter, and Fox News. I stop in the main office and go over expenses for the week. I do the payroll even though it’s not the day I usually do it. Paulie gave me full rein on the place two years ago when he made me manager. It’s how I know I’ll kick ass when running this business.
Part of me wonders why he’s selling to me. I know I’m the right person for the job. It’s just that, when someone owns a business for as long as he has, you’d think he’d want to hand the keys off to someone with more experience, perhaps someone who wasn’t planning on revamping the place and giving it a new name.
When he announced two years ago that he was gearing up to retire, I started campaigning. From a PowerPoint presentation that Luke helped me create to art renderings that Suzanne drew up, I had the perfect pitch for Paulie. I did all the financials myself, showing how much I could offer him up front and how I’d be able to pay him back monthly with interest for the remainder.
He hasn’t considered offers from anyone else that I know of. The bar has always been mine.
My prayer is that I won’t let everyone down. I know what I need to do to make this work, but there are so many external factors. Someone could get hurt and sue, or a new business could open down the road and take my customers with it. The kitchen staff could mess up my health code, a bartender could serve a minor, or a bouncer could let in the wrong kind of people.
I run my hands down my face and press my fingers into my neck. All the coulds are making this the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But I also know it could be the most rewarding.
Something in the security monitor above my desk catches my attention. A tall, thin woman with dark hair and a callous attitude is standing at the bar. She also happens to be the person I’ve been looking for, for over the past few weeks.
I rush out of the back room and onto the bar floor.
“Victoria! Where the hell have you been?” My words are a mix of anger and valid concern—mostly anger though.
She puts a hand up and sways her head. “Wow, you’re mad about something.”
“Something?” I screech.
The few patrons in the bar look over at me. Ron takes a step behind her, aware of a possible altercation—meaning, my fist in her face.
“You totaled my car and left me there to take the blame.”
Her eyes roll from side to side. “What are you talking about?”
My limbs start to vibrate with nervous energy. “You got high on heroin, crashed my car into a guard rail, and ran. I was arrested. Cuffed and taken away. I can’t believe I was so concerned about you, and you don’t even care about what happened.”
Her shoulders relax, and her chin tilts like what I said is ludicrous. “You’re making a big deal about nothing.”
Is she out of her mind? I shake my head to keep myself from reeling.
I look up, and the sheer lack of remorse on her face is making me wonder if she’s on something right now.
“You need help. It might seem like fun, and you might feel good, like a million bucks even, but it won’t last. You’re only going to hurt yourself or someone else.”
Her mouth pinches in. She looks like she’s about to spit. “You’re just a bartender who didn’t go to college and will never travel beyond the city limits of Cedar Ridge. This is as good as it gets for you.” She’s holding her arms out, showcasing the bar. “What are you gonna do when your tits sag and your hair turns gray? You still gonna hop up on that bar and show everyone a good time?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let the insult roll off my back. I’ve never been one to let words hurt me, and I can’t let them now. When I open my eyes, I see the expensive Gucci bag on her arm and the gold earrings in her ears. She’s wearing a real leather jacket and a pair of jeans that are worth more than I make in a week. Her dark almond-shaped eyes are lined with beautiful lashes. That silky hair is cascading down her shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful on the outside, but you’re poison on the inside. You’re running away from something, and yo
u won’t find salvation in a drug,” I say.
I dig my nails into my palms. She’s not worth Brad’s story. She’s not worth sharing his memory. She’s not worth dirt.
But he was everything, and I’ll be damned if his death doesn’t serve a purpose.
“I lost someone I loved very much to the same shit you’re putting into your body. He didn’t get a second chance. He didn’t take off from an accident. He died on a park bench with a needle in his arm and a notebook on his lap. And a gymnasium full of people mourned him.” I have to look away for a second and take a breath, stilling the burn that is forming in my throat. “Whatever you’re doing to yourself, you’re not just doing it to you. You’re hurting people who love you. Because, when you’re gone, there is nothing left to hold on to. Memories aren’t enough.”
“I didn’t come here for a speech.”
I whip my head back up toward hers. Her face is stone-cold, but her eyes are glassy—either from whatever it is she’s on or maybe, perhaps, my words hit home.
“I want to help you.”
She pulls her bag further up her arm and lifts her chin. Her tongue glides over the back of her front teeth. “You can get all Dr. Phil on someone else. I don’t need it.”
It pains me not to be able to break through to her. “Call the cops,” I say to the bouncer, my eyes still on Victoria’s.
“Don’t even bother. I’m out of here.”
“You’re banned, Victoria.”
She tilts a brow at me. “I never liked it here anyway.”
“From every club and bar in town,” I say.
This finally gets her attention. “You can’t ban me from this bar, let alone every bar in town.” She changes her speech up for that last bit to make me sound like I’m an idiot.
Ron puts his hand on Victoria’s shoulder and pulls her back. “She can, and she just did.”
She looks to Ron and sees the seriousness in his stance. She turns back to me, completely baffled. “Yeah, okay, just try to exile me and see what happens.”
“Bye, Victoria.” I cross my arms and nod my head toward the door.
She looks completely shocked by the turn of events. “You’re going to be sorry.” She pushes on Ron, who escorts her out. Her head spins around to me as she walks away. “You’re gonna regret this!”
I’ve never blacklisted someone in Cedar Ridge. Every bar and club in this town knows that, when someone says a patron is no good, then we all follow suit. There have been too many instances of drug use, and we can’t afford to lose our businesses to trash.
My hand is on my heart, calming down my heaving chest.
Ron walks back in and pats me on the back. “You did the right thing.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. We should have called the cops.”
“Getting her arrested isn’t the answer.”
I let out a deep sigh. “You’re right.”
Playing with the collar of my shirt, I walk around the bar. Then, I place two hands on the counter, take a deep breath, and shake off the vibes.
At least Victoria’s alive.
I let out a laugh. She is a cruel woman, and I’m praising the fact that she’s okay. Go figure.
chapter FOURTEEN
I’m tying the laces on my purple-and-pink mesh Nikes when I hear the doorbell ring.
Mom opens the door, and then her voice travels up the stairwell. “Good morning, Adam. Bob made a pot of French Roast just for you.”
With a sigh, I fall back on my bed and look up at the ceiling. My parents are still under the impression that Adam and I are dating. Dad knows I got into an accident, but I’ve been tight-lipped on the details. Even if they were wise to what had really happened, they wouldn’t let on. The only reason they might be refraining from cascading a parade of worry is because of Adam’s presence in my life.
“Should I not be surprised that Adam Reingold is sitting at our kitchen table?”
I lean up on my elbows and see Emma standing in my doorway. She’s wearing emerald-green shorts, a navy tank top, and fingering the gold E charm around her neck. Her long blonde hair is in a low bun, and her skin is way too tan for someone who sits inside and practices all day.
“I want your natural bronzing abilities.” I grimace and look down at my lightly tan arms with a pinkish tint.
Even McConaughey is looking at me from his cardboard cutout with a gaze of disappointment. The man practically glistens in the sun.
“Your skin’s like a doll. Embrace it.” She shoves off the doorframe.
“Like a Barbie doll or one of those cute Kewpie dolls with the bow lips that Grandma collects?”
She thinks on this for a second and then answers, “More like those creepy porcelain dolls with the eyes that roll to the back of their heads when you lay them down.”
I drop my chin. “You mean, the ones that gave me nightmares when I was a kid?”
Emma looks around my room. Not only do I have a life-size cutout of Matthew McConaughey, but I also have pictures of handsome leading men taped to the walls. I watch as her brown eyes take in Ryan Gosling, Jared Leto, Ewan McGregor, Leonardo DiCaprio. It’s quite the decor.
She lets out a laugh. “You can’t sleep with a doll in the corner of your room, yet having multiple men staring at you as you sleep doesn’t freak you out?”
Folding my arms behind my head, I look back toward my wall of hotness and smile. “They give me beautiful dreams.”
Emma scrunches her face and takes two cautious steps away from my bed. She looks skeptically at my floral comforter. “Ew.”
For someone so demure, her mind surely goes to the gutter quickly. That’s not what I meant at all, but I’ll play along. I lean forward, grab her hand, and pull her onto the bed.
“Gross!” she yelps.
Throwing my leg over her, I pin her down. “Feel the love, baby!”
The truth is that nothing happens in this bed, and Emma knows it.
“I have no idea what sins this mattress beholds!” Her voice is quite theatrical.
With a loud laugh, I release her. I fall back to my spot on the bed with her beside me. My hand is on my stomach, feeling the rise and fall, as I catch my breath from our mini wrestling session.
We lie on my bed in silence. Our heads fall to the side and look to each other.
“So, Adam,” she says, her full mouth pursed.
I reply with a nod, “Adam.”
Her brown eyes turn down with a hint of concern. “Last time you spoke, he pretty much destroyed you.”
I hate the fact that I tell Emma everything. It makes avoidance…well, unavoidable.
She’s talking about the day of Brad’s funeral. The day our friendship turned into a stand-off that led to hatred. It’s an awful memory. I’ve spent years playing every mind game to keep myself from remembering the hurt I felt.
I curve my brows and feel an ache in my chest. Then, with a shake, I dismiss the feeling. “Destroy is a pretty big word. I was upset for, like, a minute.”
Emma leans her head on her hand. “How are you able to do that? Bounce back so fast when you feel bad?”
“Years of practice, I guess,” I say with a small laugh.
“You know what you’re doing, right? He broke your heart once. He can do it again.”
“Adam did not…” I want to say, break my heart, but you can’t bullshit the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. “It’s cool. We’re cool now. It’s just community service. We hang out for a few hours on Sundays, and that’s it. And, get this, he took Jessica on a date. They went bowling,” I say that last word dreamily.
She makes a face. “He took Jessica bowling?”
“I’ll be throwing her bridal shower at McConaughey’s this time next year. It’ll be great. Local cop and school teacher get married. They’ll have lots of babies, retire young, and live off their awesome pension plans.”
“Does he know?”
“That they’re getting married?” I laugh. “Not yet, but if
you leave it up to Jessica and her pillowlike breasts—”
“That you’re in love with him,” she says.
I stop the word vomit that is pouring out of my mouth.
In love with Adam?
If I were in love, then all I would do is think about him nonstop. I’d wonder if he was safe while he worked and if he was getting sleep when he was off. I’d think about him as I made spaghetti and how he said he always wanted to go to Italy. I would daydream I was the one taking him there. We’d eat gelato and swim naked in the ocean. We’d live like locals and stay up until sunrise. I would think of nothing more than what it would be like to lie in bed and hold him after a long day of work. I’d dream of our children—one with pale blue eyes, the other with dark like his dad.
I open my lips to lie to her. To tell her that, even though we’re friends now, my feelings have not returned to those of a sixteen-year-old girl who lusted after her boyfriend’s best friend. That I haven’t fallen completely head over heels with the guy over the course of two weeks.
I try to lie to her, but I can’t.
Instead, I slowly nod my head. “Am I always that obvious?”
She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Only to me. There’s only one reason my boy-crazy little sister would stay away from every good-looking guy in town.”
“I date,” I say.
She gives me this look that makes her resemble our mom.
“I go out. I mess around. I sleep with guys.”
“That’s disgusting,” Luke says from my doorway.
Emma and I roll over and bury our heads into the blanket.
Turning around, I lean up on my arm and carry on. “You should see this thing I do with cowboy boots and a lasso. The guys go crazy. In fact, I had a guy tied to that dresser last week.”
Luke jumps away from the dresser even though he wasn’t even touching it. He covers his ears and shouts, “I don’t want to hear about your sex life!”
I ignore him and add, “Dad keeps this bottle of molasses in the cupboard downstairs…”
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