Explicitly Yours Series

by Jessica Hawkins

  She cleared her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Yet, he only said he’d started a business—not that it was successful. Maybe it wasn’t. But there was his suit, the cut of it, the way it moved with him instead of against him. It turned his shoulders into two strong right angles with a large expanse in between.

  If she pretended there were a bug, she could reach out and brush it away just to see if the fabric was smooth, scratchy or something else. And she could get an idea of what was underneath it.

  “What’d you do before this?” Beau asked, oblivious to her wandering imagination.

  “Before this? Nothing really. I’ve worked here since I was…” She almost couldn’t finish the sentence. It was a lifetime ago now. In the eight years she’d been doing it, she couldn’t pinpoint when she’d decided waiting tables would be her career. “Twenty-one,” she finished. “That’s how old I was when I started.”

  “So that would be, what?” Beau pretended to count to himself. “Two years ago? Three?”

  “Nice try,” she said as she laughed.

  “I can’t be that far off. You could pass for early twenties.”

  “Maybe compared to tonight’s crowd. You and I might be the only ones under forty.” She guessed at his age to see if he’d correct her, because he could very possibly be forty.

  “Except for Johnny,” Beau said.

  “Obviously except for Johnny,” Lola said quickly. He’d flustered her with the insinuation she’d forgotten about Johnny—because she had.

  “You’re a bit younger than me, though,” Beau said, his voice light, teasing. “And I’m a bit older than you.”

  She wanted to ask by how much, but she just glanced at the floor. “Not a lot older, I don’t think.”

  “The way you’re smiling a little makes me think maybe you wouldn’t mind an older man.”

  “Actually,” Lola said, lifting her head, “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Johnny’s the oldest guy I’ve been with, and he’s a few years older than me. And my guess is you’re a few years older than him. And my other guess is, whether or not I’d mind an older man isn’t really your business.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You’re right. It was inappropriate to suggest you might. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think you are.” She turned away from the probing look on his face, more intimate now than it’d just been.

  “I don’t think you are, either,” he said.

  She paused, and against her better judgment, looked back. His cheeks were high and round, as though losing the fight against his smile. “Don’t tell me you’re forfeiting the game,” he said.

  “And give you the satisfaction? Never. I’m in it ’til the end.”

  “Then why are you walking away?”

  “If I’m going to hang around you any longer, I’m going to need a drink for myself.”

  He put his hand in his pocket and stalked slowly toward her. No longer on the verge of smiling, he looked at her as though she were on display in a museum, some rare and amusing find.

  She stood her ground, even when he came close enough that the tips of their feet almost touched. His eyes, their unusual oval shape and striking color—he narrowed them and frowned as if he were trying to read her but couldn’t. He leaned in. He was going to kiss her right there in front of everyone. She had to move, push him—something. She looked at his mouth, his bottom lip slightly fuller, slightly pinker than the upper one.

  “Are you going somewhere dangerous?” he asked.

  She tried not to sound as breathless as the thought of kissing him made her feel. “What?”

  He put his hand over hers, encompassing it in warmth. He turned it over. Instinctively, she opened her fingers to reveal a dart she hadn’t realized she’d been gripping.

  “I’ll hold onto this—unless you think you’ll need it for protection?” He took it and walked back a few steps. She wondered if she’d been wrong that he couldn’t read her because of the way he grinned. It was as if he knew something about her she didn’t.

  2

  Once the OPEN sign was switched off each night and the doors locked, Hey Joe became something else. The pours went from standard to generous and the music from loud to easy. Familiar.

  Lola closed down the bar with Veronica, one of Hey Joe’s longest-standing waitresses, while Johnny and his leather-jacket friends surrounded the pool table like some kind of biker gang. There were no motorcycles in the parking lot, though. Mark, Johnny’s best friend, had traded his in kicking and screaming when his son was born, and the rest of them couldn’t afford anything worth owning.

  Outsiders weren’t usually allowed after hours—Johnny’s rule, not the owner’s—yet somehow Beau had convinced the guys to let him in on a game of pool. Lola suspected that was because they never got a chance at winning real money when they played against one another. The men Beau arrived with had left hours earlier.

  Lola turned the volume up a notch for The Doors. Veronica shook her hips back and forth. Her acrylic nails clinked against drink glasses as she dried them.

  “I heard a rumor,” Veronica said.

  “Probably the same one I heard.”

  “Think we’ll all get the boot when Mitch sells this place?”

  Lola looked at Johnny as he lined up his shot, sank the ball and swaggered around the table. “I hope not,” she said.

  “Word is they’re looking to develop this block of the Strip into something fancy. You see that juice bar they’re putting in?”

  “I saw it. Can you imagine bulldozing all this history? Vero, do you realize the fucking rock stars who’ve stood on that stage?”

  Vero popped her gum, shaking her head. “Shit’s not cool.”

  “They’d probably give us uniforms. You might have to wear a miniskirt.”

  Vero looked down at her Harley T-shirt and faded jeans. “The day I wear a miniskirt’s the day I cut off my balls and serve them to my boss on a silver platter.”

  “You don’t have balls, Vero.”

  “It’s a saying,” she said, rolling her eyes. She leaned a hand on the counter and nodded over at the pool game. “I don’t know, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if this place shut down. Not like Johnny can’t find something else.”

  “But he’s perfect here.”

  She smiled. “I know. That doesn’t mean he can’t do good work somewhere else, though. And maybe you could try something with computers.”

  “You think so?” Lola asked.

  “Why not? I remember when you first started you talked about going back to school.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Lola said. “Kept putting it off, and here I am years later.”

  “Happens all the time, but people do it. You’ve been making flyers for this place for a while. Even Mitch says they’re good. Couldn’t you take a, you know, flyer-making class or something?”

  “I guess I could,” Lola said. Mitch had even promised to let her redesign the menus he’d been hanging on to the last decade. Before he’d decided to close, of course. “I actually like the little bit of graphic design I’ve taught myself.”

  “Yep,” Vero said. “But take it from me, you have to do it now. If you get another waitressing gig, you’ll get stuck again. Me and Johnny? We’re in this scene for good. Nothing can hide a lifetime of smoking and the pretty little scar on my lip Freddy left me with. Johnny’s got his rough edges too. You can still get out, though.”

  Lola chewed on her bottom lip. Once in a while, she thought about going back to school. Johnny didn’t like change, though. Leaving the bar would mean no more waking up late in the morning together and lounging before work—coffee, talk shows, reading the Times while he strummed his guitar on their tiny patio. It would mean not driving home from work in the middle of the night, sometimes with her head in his lap when she was especially tired. It would mean leaving him behind in a way, telling him this life he loved wasn’t quite enough for her.

  “Everyone’s living in the clouds tonight,” Lola
said softly, thinking of the similar conversation she’d just had with Beau. “There must be something in the air.”

  “Nah. It’s just the liquor giving me loose lips,” Vero said.

  “Veronica,” Lola scolded. “Johnny warned you about drinking on the job.”

  “You know how it is. I just need a taste every now and then. Anyway, you had a drink earlier.”

  “That was a special circumstance.”

  “Playing darts is a special circumstance?”

  Lola pinned her with a look. “My aim gets sharper the more I loosen up.”

  “Oh, okay, sure.” Veronica nodded her head high. “Keep your secret if you keep mine?”

  Lola snickered. She rarely got to pull one over on Johnny. “Fine,” she said. “Deal.”

  Vero stopped her gum smacking. “Girl, why don’t you ever tell that slut to back off?”

  Lola followed her nod to Amanda, one of the waitresses, as she smiled up at Johnny.

  “You know why,” Lola said. “She can flutter those lids until they fall off, Johnny’s not dumb enough to touch that.”

  “Don’t matter. Since she doesn’t seem to have eyeballs, there’re other ways to let her know he’s your man.”

  “We have to work together,” Lola said. “I don’t want trouble. And Johnny puts her in her place when he needs to. Not that it does much good.” Lola’s gaze shifted to Beau, who stood with his pool cue planted on the ground. He was the only one not wearing something faded or leather.

  “Handsome guy, isn’t he?” Vero asked. “Out of the suit, that is.”

  Lola kept her eyes on him and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind the suit.”

  “Don’t tell Johnny that. Probably never wore a suit in his life, not even to a funeral.”

  “I know,” Lola said absentmindedly. “Maybe that’s why I like it.”

  “Replace the suit with a cut and throw him on a bike, though? Fuck me. A face like that would put a serious dent in the pussy around here.”

  Beau caught them looking and raised his glass, his smile sweetly crooked.

  “You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he said after she’d gotten herself a drink. They’d stopped playing darts and were standing close to each other at a high-top table.

  “Which one?”

  “I asked what you did before working here.”

  “Oh. Nothing really. There was high school, of course…”

  “Of course.” He grinned. “But you didn’t work here until you were twenty-one, which leaves a few years in between. Maybe the answer to your quandary lies there.”

  Lola leaned toward him over the small table. The bar was busier now and the conversations more animated. She told herself it was to hear him better, but she was actually afraid of missing even one word. “And what quandary is that?”

  “The one about what happens if Hey Joe goes under.”

  “Ah, that one.” She picked at nothing on the table. “No, it won’t answer that question.”

  “I’m pretty good at problem-solving,” Beau said. “Try me.”

  Lola was unaware she even had a problem. A new idea to explore, sure, but not a problem. She opened her mouth, about to tell him to mind his own business. She wasn’t ashamed of her past, nor was she proud of it, but something about Beau made her wish there were nothing to tell at all. Instead, she gave him a version of the truth. “I did some things, met some people. I went through a stage where I partied a lot and crashed on friends’ couches.”

  “That’s vague,” Beau said. “How much is a lot?”

  “Too much.”

  “Is that why you dropped out of school?”

  She nodded. “I blew my money on alcohol and going to see bands. Sometimes drugs too. I couldn’t keep up with the tuition, but I’d been missing classes anyway.”

  Beau studied her. “How’d you end up here?”

  “Johnny,” she said right away. “He’s the reason I got my life back together.”

  He cocked his head. “Really? Why?”

  Lola picked up the darts from the table and backed away, suddenly disgusted with herself for discussing this with a stranger. Johnny never judged her, never made her feel ashamed. She was by his side every night because he’d believed in her without having any reason to. She didn’t need to explain herself to Beau. “Let’s finish the game,” she said.

  Beau lowered his drink, but held Lola’s gaze a little longer than necessary as they exchanged a private moment. He turned back to the pool table.

  “He seems especially interested in you,” Vero said.

  The memory scattered along with their moment. Maybe it hadn’t been as private as Lola had thought. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and got back to cleaning. “Sure,” she said, “if overworked barmaid is his type.”

  After a few minutes there was a cheer from the table, and Johnny high-fived Quartz. He set the cue in its rack and walked over to Lola. “Won back the money you lost at darts and then some,” he said, leaning over the bar for a kiss.

  “Good job, babe.”

  “I’d better quit before I do any more damage,” Beau said from behind Johnny.

  Johnny turned around. “You taking off?”

  “Once I settle my tab. I might be a little short after that game, though. ATM?”

  Johnny pointed toward the back wall and watched Beau walk away. “Lo,” he said under his breath. “See if you can convince him to come back. Maybe bring some of his moneybag friends.”

  “What’s it matter?” Lola asked warily. “The bar’s closing anyway.”

  “Nothing’s set in stone, babe. It’s a long shot, but those business types love to slum it up once in a while. Go now, while he’s alone.”

  Lola’s stomach knotted just thinking about it. It didn’t feel right, but Johnny rarely asked her for much. “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Just be cute, flirt a little.” Johnny eyed Beau then did a double take at Lola. “Not too much, though.” He printed out Beau’s tab and handed it to her in a black, vinyl sleeve. “Bring him his bill and ask when he’s coming back.”

  Lola rolled her eyes but took the bill even though she doubted she could flirt with someone who always had the upper hand. If Beau wanted flirting, he’d be doing it. She approached him as he was taking his money from the ATM.

  “Hey,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for the game tonight. It’s been a while since I lost.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he counted out some bills. “You’re thanking me for that?”

  Lola averted her eyes from the money to be polite. “It’s good for my ego.”

  He smiled, returned his wallet to his jacket and nodded at her hands. “Then you’re welcome. Is that my check?”

  She handed it to him. He slid money into the fold without looking at the total and gave it back to her. “A little extra for the great service.”

  She took it. “Johnny says you can come back any time you want.” She fidgeted with the folder. Tonight had been something different from the usual because of Beau. Most nights she and Johnny had the same dinner, talked about what the bar needed to improve, saw the same faces. She wanted Beau to come back too, but if he knew that, he might get the wrong idea. “I think he likes you,” she added.

  His eyes narrowed on her as if he was trying to figure something out. “Does he?” he asked. “What about you, Lola? Do you like me?”

  She fumbled for an answer. “Do I like you?” she repeated, stalling. Heat crept up her neck. That was twice in one night he’d made her blush. “Sure. I enjoyed talking to you.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Should there be more?”

  “I thought there might be.” He looked past her a moment, then his eyes shifted back. He cleared his throat. “I’m an early riser, especially when I have to work in the morning. Meaning, not much could keep me out this late.”

  “Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” she sai
d.

  “What I’m trying to say is, you’re the reason I stayed.” He stepped a little closer. “Any other night I would’ve left with the people I came with.”

  “But I’m so boring.” She said it with a smile because smiling and making a stupid joke seemed like the only safe response to what he was implying.

  “You’re the least boring person I’ve met in a while,” Beau said, “and it goes against my nature to bite my tongue. I like you, Lola. I think you already figured that out, though.”

  “Let me guess. Subtlety goes against your nature too. How many women have fallen for that?”

  “Have you seen me even look in another woman’s direction tonight?”

  She hadn’t. Once Vero’d brought up Amanda, Lola had been curious to see if Beau would talk to her. Amanda wasn’t a bad-looking girl, but Lola didn’t worry about her because Johnny just wasn’t a cheater. He didn’t have it in him.

  But if Beau was looking to take home a sure thing, and he had a penchant for a bar girl he could flaunt his wealth for, Amanda was it. Yet earlier, when Amanda had smiled at him across the pool table, he hadn’t even acknowledged her.

  “That excuse is too convenient,” Beau continued. “You’re trying to cheapen our attraction by suggesting I’d take anyone home.”

  Attraction. To be drawn to him—to want to feel even closer to him when they were standing right next to each other. It fit them too perfectly, and that sent a chill down her spine. “I think it’s best we end this conversation here,” she said, keenly aware that her boyfriend was mere feet behind her.

  “So I’m wrong then,” Beau said. He stood far enough from her that their conversation wouldn’t have appeared intimate. But each time he spoke, it was as if he removed another layer of her clothing, and now she was too close to being exposed. “I’m wrong that this attraction is one-sided?”

  Lola glanced over her shoulder. Johnny was saying goodnight to his friends at the door. She looked back and almost told Beau he wasn’t wrong, that it wasn’t one-sided, just to see what he’d say. Flirting with him gave her a thrill she hadn’t felt in so long. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” she said instead. “Johnny and I have been together a long time, and we’re happy.”