The J Project

by Karli James

  “Looks like it’s show time. Now go host, hostess.”

  “Yes ma’am.” She’s still chuckling as she walks to the front, menus in hand ready to seat people. I suddenly get a wave of frustration thinking about this supposed bar crawl. While I love a good night in tips, honestly, I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and get into my comfies, put on Netflix and chill. And by that, I mean actually put on Netflix and chill. By myself. Alone. Always alone. Damn you, Jude.

  Two hours later and I’m slinging drinks, uncapping beers, and smiling prettily at the single guy at the bar who apparently just wants to keep getting my attention rather than hang with his friends. That’s fine by me. I have zero interest in him, nothing will come of it, but he will spend his money and I will wink my right dimple at him and bring home the giant ass tip he’s bound to leave me. No shame. None. This is part of the job. Mixologists and bartenders are friends, therapists, confidants, a flirtation, all of it. It’s just the gig, and I don’t mind letting these guys think they have a shot. I know they never do, and I’m safely tucked behind the bar with enough people around me to help should anyone ever think otherwise. I flirt, but I never cross a line.

  So, this guy is telling me about his job, and I’m only half listening when I see a large party come in the door. Here we go. Fuckin’ bar crawl. I brace myself and make a mental note to check my stock again. Brad, Chad, Thad? is still going on about this food truck he wants to start, and how he also wants to sell booze and while I find that an honorable mission, good luck bud. The liquor laws, the licenses, public drunkenness…dude this is South Valley, NY, not New Orleans. We’re crazy because we’re mostly all Italian, not for walking down the street with tacos and a margarita. Hmm…on second thought, maybe I should look into moving to New Orleans. I engage as much as I can before I have to politely excuse myself to check my coolers, restock, and make my rounds around the bar. Everyone seems to be set for now so I run to the back cabinet for extra liquor.

  As I’m restocking the shelves and removing the empties, I feel a significant weight—an eyeball weight. Someone is staring at me and it’s not the same as when someone needs a drink. Instinctively I know this is different; I feel it just as goosebumps crawl up my arms and the back of my neck. I slowly turn my head and there, sitting at my bar, looking sexy as shit is the man that completely laid me out flat three weeks ago. Dammit, Jude.

  I blink. I blink again. I feel maybe if I add a head nod I can “I dream of Jeannie” his ass out of my bar. What the actual? He’s never been here before, and I never told him where I worked because…safety. Stalking issues. Online freaking dating.

  He’s staring at me, intensely, but not saying a word. I watch as he draws in a breath, as if he’s trying to calm his nerves. Meanwhile my heart is beating a cadence so full and heavy my body has become its own marching band. Finally, I hear a voice ask me if they can get a drink, a little blonde girl next to Jude. My eyes narrow and she just grins. Did he…I’m sorry did he bring a date to my bar? Is he out of his mind? Anger snaps me out of my trance and I break my stare with Jude as I look over at her. Plastering on a smile I walk over to their end of the bar.

  “Hi, how can I help you?” The blonde smiles broadly and mischievously, as if she’s aware of something I’m currently not privy to.

  “Hi. I’m Nina, and yes…can I get a couple of Jack Fire shots for my brother and I?” Brother? I look at Jude and he just nods. Still staring at me. Mute, but intense. What the damn?

  “Uuhh, sure. Back in a flash.” I grab a couple shot glasses, pour, and serve. “That’ll be ten even.” Nina throws down a twenty on the bar and tells me to keep the change, then slaps her brother on the back and laughs.

  “Drink up Jude. You’re gonna need it.” It’s then I realize that he’s the bar crawl, his sister knows exactly what’s happened between us, and I’m the mission. Well. Shit. I watch him lift the shot glass to his gloriously full lips and toss it back. He doesn’t so much as grimace at the heat of the Jack. I watch him lick his lips as he sets the shot glass down in front of him. He’s still staring at me, as if he’s seen a ghost he’s been hunting, but now has no clue what to do with, or how to explain its’ mystical presence. I look over at Nina who is looking between the two of us when I see her whisper something in his ear and step away. I make my eyes follow her so I can break this staring contest, and notice that she sidles up to a very fit, very tall blond guy in a large group. He looks down at her with a look of pure adoration and I think oh, they must be in love. How fucking sweet for them. And then I notice his hand is locked with the brunette on his other side and now I’m confused and disappointed in life all over again. NOTHING IS AS IT SHOULD BE! Okay so that’s a bit dramatic, but still.

  My eyes sweep around the bar; BradChadThad is signaling me for another drink so I grab his shitty beer from the cooler and head over, fake smile plastered back onto my face. I mix a few more drinks and try to gather my wits before I walk back over to Jude and finally ask him what the damn hell he’s doing here.

  “What the damn hell are you doing here?” Jude exhales slowly. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. “Jude. What.Are.You.Doing.Here?” If I grit my teeth any harder, they will in fact turn to dust. I can’t afford dentures so I really need him to start explaining.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “So, talk. But be quick because in case you missed it, some asshole decided to create his own bar crawl and I’m just a smidge busy.” He has the decency to grimace.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll make sure everyone tips you beyond well.” I lift my brows in response. “Look, Kara…that night. Oh God, how do I say this? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could take back my word vomit, and the ever-continuous stench it left behind. That comment…that look you saw on my face—well those were my insecurities. That came from my past, and I simply, and regrettably reacted without thinking. It’s not an excuse it’s just…the explanation. I’m sorry I hurt you. I hated my words immediately, and obviously I realize that any girl, any normal fucking girl would put in effort if going out on a date, or a semi date, or whatever the hell it was meant to be. I just…well that’s a long story and I won’t bore you with it, but I just needed to find you and tell you that I’m so sorry.

  “I think you’re amazing, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and I would really, really love to start over. I would really love a second chance.” I’m listening to all this and yes it all sounds beautiful and lovely and hunky damn dory, but my walls are up and they ain’t coming down that easily. He might be pretty, and he might actually be sorry, but seriously? What is happening here?

  “I’m confused, Jude. A second chance at what?”

  “At a date.”

  “Mmmm, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I appreciate your apology, and while I can empathize with baggage and what it does to us, you also made it very clear that you weren’t into me romantically and asked to be friends. So no, no do-over date. And no friendship, because as I stated before, I have enough of those. I’m really sorry you wasted your time here tonight. I realize you probably went to some effort to find me.” And I meant that. I am sorry. Because I don’t trust him, and I don’t believe he really wants a date, and I don’t need his pity friendship or to assuage his guilt. Do I miss talking to him? Yes. But I also didn’t forget that he said that there wasn’t a romantic connection for him.

  “I lied.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Kara, of course I feel, and want a romantic connection with you, but when I could see that I had pushed you away with my shitty attitude, I simply…grappled. I grappled at anything I could, and I just knew that I would rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.” Oh, this mother...he’s smooth. I’ll give him that. I roll my lips between my teeth and try to gather my thoughts before I respond.

  “Look, Jude. I appreciate you coming here and apologizing. And I can even appreciate that you might be telling me the tru
th about…previously lying. But your lie still hurt me, and honestly…this whole thing has just gone to shit. I really liked you. I had felt such a weird, puzzle piece fitting with another puzzle piece connection to you that I was floored when you suddenly turned into douchebag Hulk—'Jude, smash’ all my fucking feelings. I also realize that I carry my own baggage, and I’m sensitive. I’m also aware that I get super defensive. So, until I can work out my own issues as a result of past experiences, and well…maybe you need to work on yours, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to get romantically involved with anyone. And no, we still cannot be friends.”

  “Did you say, ‘Jude, smash!’”

  “That’s what you got from all that?”

  “I’m sorry, but that was kind of ouchies, and amazeballs at the same time.” I’m trying very hard not to laugh at “ouchies.”

  “Jude. I can’t do this. I really do have to go back to work. I can see people starting to get pissed and regret their tips. This is not the best time for me to go rounds with you.” He sighs and looks around, nodding in recognition of the madness that has become the bar.

  “Can I get a drink?” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. While I did organize this little bar crawl for my own selfish reasons I also can’t bail on my friends, so you’re stuck with me for a bit. Sorry about that. I’ll take the Blue Moon on tap.”

  “Sure, that’ll be four-fifty.” I walk away to get his beer, drop it down on the bar, take his money and then begin to make my rounds. All the while I’m racing around apologizing to patrons, and trying to catch up I can feel Jude’s eyes on me. I put on a bit more of a show than normal to try get back into good graces with those who had to wait, and I keep my fake smile plastered until I feel like my cheeks are going to crack. My eyes do another sweep and I see Jude hold up a hand.

  “Need another beer?”

  “And your number, please.”

  “You can have the beer, but not my number.” I grab a fresh pint, fill it and drop it on the bar. Right before I’m about to walk away he grips my wrist, and I swear half pulls me up and over the bar until his eyes are blazing into mine, and I can feel heat rise into my cheeks.

  “Kara. Please. I heard everything that you said before, but I also know I cannot walk out of here tonight without your number. It won’t do, Kara. It just won’t do.” His tone is voice is quiet, gruff, and firm. His plea has my heart thumping, my vagina clapping, and my brain shouting ‘No!’—so many conflicting…parts. I’m doing my best to will my brain into more furtive action.

  “Jude, I don’t think-” He pulls me up even higher until I’m fairly certain my ass is on display for the whole back corner of the bar.

  “I do think. No, I don’t fucking think. I know. I know what we could be Kara. I know it. I also realize how fucking crazy I sound right now, and I don’t care. I’m begging you, literally begging you to find some mercy to bestow upon me and give me your number. I promise not to lose it or abuse the gift of it. Just, please. I’m really getting too old for these bar crawls, but if that’s what it takes, I will continue to organize them until I win the privilege of your number. I will come back to this bar, and sit right here. And if you continue to deny me, I will be forced to pull out the big guns.” Suddenly, I’m wondering how attractive Jude would look in a straitjacket.

  “Big guns, Jude? Please.”

  “Yes, Kara. I will sit here, and I will smirk at you. The smirk I know you like because your pupils dilate and your left eyebrow twitches.” Well, that’s…inconvenient. My face is such a traitorous whore. Also, my vagina just switched to a slow clap.

  “Put me down please.”

  “Kara…”

  “If you want even a scrap of hope of getting my number you will put me down right now, or this entire bar is going to be asking for my number since I’m pretty sure thanks to you they can all see I’ve got on hot pink thong. Which by the by, is riding up by ass just a bit more than intended thanks to this little stunt. If I want to give you my number, I will. But it will be after I’ve had time to think about it. You’re not in a position to make demands here, Jude. You did this, not me. And if you decide to come in here every night, dead set on spending your money until I cave, well that will also be on you, and not me.”

  He lets go of my wrist and eases back, and I can see the disappointment all over his face. Only this time it’s not in me, it’s just…in this situation. The outcome is not what he had hoped for. I would almost feel sorry for him, but I can’t yet. After previously displaying such a bad case of douchebaggery, I really need him to hold onto this moment a little longer.

  “Fair enough. You’re right. I’m in no position to be asking, or begging anything of you. May I leave you my number instead, and if you get to a place where you want to contact me you can?” I’m a bit taken aback by his seemingly easy retreat, and his sudden cool behavior. I nod jerkily; why do I feel like crying all of a sudden? I’m replaying his words in my head and while I don’t even know if I like the guy right now, I’m also kind of dying inside at “I know what we could be”, and I kind of want to know what he knows.

  He takes out a card with his number on it and puts it on the bar. I take it and put in my pocket. I look back up at him and without thinking mutter to him,

  “Stay though.” He smiles and nods. I walk back around the bar doing my job until closing, and Jude is still there. His friends have all left. He mingled with them here and there, mostly if they went up to him as he didn’t seem keen on leaving his spot. We made eye contact, but we didn’t speak again.

  “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “Mind if I stay to walk you out to your car? I would feel better about it honestly, if you would let me.” He’s so damn polite all of a sudden, it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with it. It feels…unnatural. I might have a problem if I feel more comfortable talking to someone who is snarky over polite. I’ll revisit that thought at a later time. Probably over wine.

  “Sure. I’ll be done within the next twenty minutes or so.” He nods, and picks up his phone. Checking messages or Facebook, or who knows what. My mind is racing and I honestly have no clue what I’m going to do with his number. I need time, and a little bit of breathing room to digest his apology as well as his admission of feels. I wasn’t prepared for his feels. I sneak a peek at him while I’m rinsing glasses, and my heart stutters just a tad at his handsome profile. I shake my head, sighing at myself. I’m in deep shit.

  Chapter 5

  Jude

  I’m sitting at the bar checking my text messages from Liam and Nina so I can inconspicuously watch Kara work her way around cleaning up the bar, and doing her cash out. All the while trying to appease my nosy best friend and sister about what really happened between her and I tonight.

  Liam: Bro, are you still at the bar?

  Jude: Of course, but she did ask me to stay so I feel slightly less like a stalker than I did two hours ago.

  Liam: Asked you to stay, huh? That hot little number is going to chew you up and spit you out man. As your best friend I feel it’s my duty to warn you—to encourage you to run. I saw that look in her eye earlier. You’re in so much so much shit, you may as well start identifying as a pig.

  Jude: Oink fucking oink. Wait though, what look?

  Liam: Stabby. Definitely looked stabby.

  I cringe. He’s basically right. My phone dings before I have time to respond and I roll my eyes at whatever stupid thing he’s about to say next, but realize oh no, it’s going to be a stupid thing from Nina instead.

  Nina: So? Did you fix it or did you nix it?

  Jude: Are you trying to rhyme? Please, stop.

  Nina: Don’t deflect! Did you fix it, or is she still giving you that stabby look she had when she thought I was anything but your sister?

  Jude: First, ew. Second, have you been talking to Liam?

  Nina: Why would I be talking to that dipshit? Did you see who he brou
ght tonight? DID YOU SEE?

  Sigh. Yes. I saw.

  Jude: Nina…let it go.

  Nina: I will not let it go. You’re his best friend, you need to talk to him about this. You need to remind him of how she’s a total coochie who gave her hoochie all over this blessed small town and shredded his insides until he had nothing fucking left. What is with you two giving your hearts away to fucking whores? I promise you if Stir Mix-A-Lot Mary messes up your head I’m going to kill you myself.

  Jude: While I find your intensity both comforting and terrifying, you need to let Liam figure his own shit out with Paige. Secondly, KARA, is not like that. I know she’s not like that. I looked at her once, and knew she would never be like that.

  Nina: Your romantic side is showing again. This isn’t one of your books, Jude. This is real life. I just want you to be careful. I know you messed it up, but don’t let her make you continuously pay for one knee jerk reaction. Everyone has reacted because of baggage, so either she’s going to forgive and let it go, or you just need to…let go.

  Nina, bless her. She’s so sweet when she wants to be. Homicidal, but sweet.

  Jude: I know, Neens. I know. I got this. This isn’t Natalie 2.0. She’s different. And yes, I realize that this isn’t one of my books, thank you very much. Real romance is nothing like my books.

  Nina: Does she know what you do for a living?