"Can you start tomorrow?" He asks, writing the information on my application.
"Yeah!" I said eagerly.
He rises and sticks out his hand. "Drivers license and social," he said.
With the authority in his bored voice, I yank the cards from my wallet and place them in his hand with a grin. He walks to the dated copying machine, it roars to life when his thumb mashes the light green button; each copy is a stark protest.
"What's the best number to reach you?" He asks. He clicks the pen to his chest and scribbles the numbers down as I call them out to him. He sits and glides over to the dusty filling cabinet. After rummaging around, he tosses me a black shirt. I hold it at arm's length to inspect it.
"Here's the shirt you'll need to wear every night. See you tomorrow," he dismisses me.
I walk through the kitchen, with a new purpose. I followed the path that I was led, when I reach the bar, it is no longer empty. My legs seize movement as I watch the stranger as he hustles around the bar. He shoves a box on the floor and then stands with his back to me, polishing glasses. As if he senses me, he stops and turns. My eyes linger up his hard chest to find an amused face. His dark brown hair is spiked, but not the cringe- worthy, gelled spike the boys at my school did. This is what I assume is straight out of the bed, sex hair. His intense eyes captured mine; I stood still, like an animal trapped in headlights. His high cheeks elevate at the end of his confident smile. He wore a white shirt, tattoos bellowing from his right sleeve. The light stubble lining his jaw was the perfect touch.
"You got the job?" He asks. His face lights with a quick smile, his dimples peek at me. I immediately recognize that voice from before.
"Yeah, I did."
"Awesome," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I am Hayze Clark, the bartender. Are you going to TEU?"
"I am Taylor. Starting my first semester," I nod. I notice a scar above his left eye and tattoos on his wrist as he offers his hand.
"Me too, nice to meet you, Taylor, see ya around." He smiles, showing off a row of perfect teeth.
I walk from the bar, shielding the blinding sun from my eyes. My red Jetta lights with excitement as I press the clicker. I slide in and point my car in the direction of my dorm. I find a parking space, and pull in while checking my time. Nine minutes, and that's with all of the traffic lights that plague this college town.
I grab my t- shirt and hug it to my chest while climbing from my car. The crowd is thick in the lobby; I shove through a group equipped with suitcases, and weeping parents as I walk to my dorm. Lea, my roommate is lying on the bed when I enter. She snaps her head up and props on her elbows. Her baggy sleeves slide down her arm, revealing her bright art work displayed on her forearms.
I literally ran into her after freshman orientation, with my map shoved in my face, I slapped into her and spilled my coke down her shirt. Fast- forward a week and I can still feel anxiety bubbling in my stomach as I saw her for the first time. She wore a white tank, exposing her right arm that's covered in a sleeve tattoo. Her jagged blonde bob has streaks of faded blue highlights. The sunlight caught her nose ring as she turned and smiled, I could almost hear my dad yelling for me to run, screaming in the opposing direction. Instead, I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. I was drawn like a light, to her no nonsense, fuck- off attitude. I learned over coffee that her roommate filed for a transfer, we hit it off and bunked together. She's a returning sophomore, and so far, it is working in my favor. I would be lost without her showing me around.
Our small room is divided in the middle. My side holds a lavender comforter neatly tucked on my bed, and a shag rug to the side. The few decorations I have are strategically placed without clutter. Lea's side is utter chaos. Her bed is never made, blankets are tossed across it along with clothes, dirty and clean. A band poster hangs above her bed. Her desk is where clothes come to die.
"Any luck with the job search?" She smiles, her deep set dimples appear.
"Yes! I got a job at my first interview," I said. Her eyes light with enthusiasm.
"Awesome, which bar?" She asks, flipping her straight out the box, blonde bob to the side.
"Liberty, have you been to that one?" I pull the strap of my purse from my shoulder and lay it on my desk. She snorts and I turn to see her watching me, amused.
"Oh yeah, many times," she said, grinning. "I have a... friend that works there. We went to high school together."
"Who is it?" I pull my brows together and sit on my bed.
"Hayze, he's the bartender." She stands and walks to her desk. With a flick of her arm, clothes scatter on the floor. Once she's satisfied, she dumps the contents of her makeup bag on the dusty surface.
My eyes widen. "Oh," I said.
She laughs once. "Yup, that's the friend. Good luck," she grins. I ignore her, but the sinking feeling in my gut tells me she means more than the job.
"Oh, your brother dropped that off!" She exclaims as she points to a box on my side of the cramped dorm.
I frown, "Which one?"
"There's more than one?" She asks, wagging her eyebrows. "Scott," she muses when she sees I am serious.
"Scott and Sean, they are twins," I said, shuffling through the cluttered box he dropped off. It consists of pictures and decorations I left home. When I spot a homecoming picture, I close it and shove it under the twin sized bed.
"Are they sportin' the bible belt, too?" She laughs as she dramatically lines her eyes with makeup.
I laugh, "Sean is, he's my dad made over. Scott's your best bet. But don't come crying to me when he cheats." I shove my finger in direction.
"Noted," she grins. Her face twists in deep thought as she peers at me through the mirror hanging on the wall. "Hey, do you have a fake ID?" She asks and places her right hand on her hip, the other hand points at me through the mirror.
"Uhh... No." With my brows bunched, I cut my eyes at her.
"You're getting one. Here, check this out." She tosses me an ID. I catch it and hold it up to inspect it.
"Looks so real," I said, impressed. The picture is Lea, but the information, name included is someone else.
"So will yours. So, school starts Monday, what are we doing this weekend?" She asks. I hand the ID back to her and she tucks it safely in her wallet.
"I start work tomorrow..." I said and her face falls into a frown.
"I'll fill you in on everything you missed," she said. With a stroke of gloss, she pops her lips and throws the container in her bag.
"Gee thanks," I said and roll my eyes.
She laughs and disappears into the hallway. Voices flood the hallway, co- eds buzz by my door. While I am left bored and fending for myself on my first Friday night in the dorm. I grab a textbook and flip through the pages. I didn't leave my childhood home for this, next week I am going out.
The following day I report to the bar by three. Randy, the manager, sits at the bar top, reading. The bar is dim and I scan the room, finding no one else in sight. I nudge a chair to get his attention. His head snaps up with a soft smile.
"You'll be with Shea, she's in the back," he said. He quickly loses interests in me and sets his eyes to the book in front of him.
"She doesn't know where the back is." Hayze walks up and motions for me. "C'mon Taylor. Lazy fucker," he whispers and shakes his head.
He shows me to the back, the walls are a grimy yellow, and the gray tiles are slick from water. A small, industrial kitchen is to my left, but Hayze leads me further. A tall girl, with wavy blonde hair, is pouring ice into the bin when we walk up. She stops, wipes her hand on her dark apron and offers her hand.
"I am Shea. You must be Taylor," she said.
"That's me," I said.
"Finally, another girl in this place, I am training you tonight!" She places the cover over the ice bin and walks to the front.
"First things first," she said, collapsing into a chair. "The menu," she said. She brings it over her mouth, peeking at me over the top. "Luckily, we don't sell a lo
t of food. Just alcohol, and of course, that's easy to memorize."
"Of course."
She hands me a paper copy. I fold it into a perfect square and tuck it into my back pocket as she moves from the seat. She skips to the bar, stopping in front of two guys I don't recognize. The taller one has long, black hair. The guy to his right is shorter, stockier with a buzzed head.
"Eric! Justin! This is Taylor, our new waitress." I shake their hands. Eric the tall one smiles and welcomes me, while Justin waves from a distance.
"Well, that's everyone," she said.
"Really?" I ask.
"Yeah, we're only opened Thursday through Sunday." She shrugs her shoulders.
"Doors open in an hour," Hayze said. He walks through the bar holding plates of food. Shea's twig of an arm, loops through mine, dragging me to the table.
"And this is what we do until doors open." She gestures to the appetizers scattered on the wooden table. "Eat some. You can thank me later when your nerves are shot, but your stomach is full."
"Jesus Shea," Hayze adds, clearly displeased. "You're gonna run her off before she starts."
His brown eyes find mine. A brief smile plays on his lips. My head dips and breaks our contact. I pop a chip in my mouth as my eyes dance across the bar.
"Do you go to TEU?" Shea asks.
I nod my head, "My first semester. You?" I scoop a chip in the queso, checking the time.
"I am a junior," she smiles. She grabs her watch, pulling the face to her. "It is show time."
We each grab a plate. Shea shows me where to dump dirty dishes. I follow her around like a lost puppy, mimicking her moves. Randy unlocks the large wooden doors, and dims the lights as music blares over the speakers.
"You're just going to shadow me this weekend. Don't get overwhelmed, everything will be second nature to you in no time," she promises with a smile. Her bright eyes watch me, nodding her head until I agree with her.
A group of rowdy patrons walks in. Their collars are popped, hats are backwards—as I study them closer I realize they are wearing the same outfit, with different colors. A second group of guys join them. They drag a table across the floor until it connects with the first, while they shout over each other, retelling the night before. With a side grin, Shea flicks her wrists and I follow her to the table.
"There's our girl," one of them shouts. He stands; his arms circle around Shea.
"This is Taylor, she's our new waitress. Be nice to her," she threatens with narrow eyes.
"Taylor, I am Corey." The shortest of the squad offers his hand to me. He laughs as he stumbles and slurs. "You should come to the house this weekend. Back to school party." His eyebrows wag at me, his eyes droop with intoxication.
"The house?" I look to Shea.
"They are in a fraternity," she explains.
"So, whatcha say?" He slurs.
"Uhh, maybe."
"Maybe? You can do better than that," he smiles.
"Corey, she said maybe—" Shea starts.
"She's new, fuck with her again and you're out of here," Hayze said. His arms are folded against his chest, his look is slightly amused. As if he knows the guy won't push him. With wide eyes, I turn and walk to the back. Shea catches up with me.
"Sorry, he's drunk. He won't say anything again. Hayze doesn't let drunk douchebags mess with us," she promises.
"Yeah, sorry." I hold my head dead, covering my eyes. "Let's get back out there."
Shea slings her thin arm around my neck and tows me into the bar. The loudest table stands and shove their chairs under the tables, the contact sounds like nails on a chalkboard. A couple of girls walk in; the shorter one tugs her shirt down and leans over the bar. Hayze walks over, leans against the bar with his elbows propped on the counter. His face is smooth as he speaks to her, he winks and walks off.
"I am gagging," Shea tells me.
"Does he really fall for that?" I nod in their direction.
She laughs and shakes her head. "Correction, do they really fall for that?"
With my nose scrunched, I ask, "What do you mean?'
"He's just bored, and well, I think they hope they are the one. That they willbe the one to change him, or at least, that's what I think..." She shrugs.
"So, what does do? Just like date them 'til he's tired of 'em?"
She chuckles again and drags me to a table. "No, he doesn't date them. I am pretty sure he's tired of them before the nights over."
"And you're friends with this guy?" I ask, disgusted.
"He's a good guy. Ya know...If you don't do that..." She points to the bar. I turn to see him lean over, with an amused grin, as the girl slips a folded napkin into his pocket. "He's not going to call her," Shea said.
"So, why do they even bother?" I tear my gaze from them to watch Shea.
"My point exactly! C'mon, let's greet that table," she said.
With the worst behind me, the night runs smoothly. The regulars are helpful, and promise I'll catch on quick. I walk with Shea to my car past one in the morning. She's still perky as she invites me out, I politely decline and slump to my car in exhaustion. The bar door opens again, Hayze steps out and walks to a car parked in the back. The girl from before is leaning against the car, arms crossed at her chest. I slam my car in gear to escape the scene I don't want to witness. With his eyebrows raised, Hayze waives once as I peel out of the lot.
Today’s the day. The day I’ve been dreaming of since I realized my home life wasn’t healthy. My first day of college, no one is standing over me, telling me in disgust to change my immodest clothing, or expressing distaste for my new friends. After spending my weekend working at the bar, I woke up this morning, threw on clothes and walked out to explore my new life as an average student.
“Where’s L. Mueller Science building?” I asked Lea.
She grabs my schedule and map and sits on the steps and pats the pavement beside her. She pulls out a book, slides my map over it and begins marking. I check the time, hoping I get to class on time and she hands me the map.
I tried to talk Lea into taking me for a tour of the campus yesterday, but she insisted that it was lame. I even found a tour for the freshman, and she managed to talk me out of it. No one is organized in college. I’m mentally kicking myself for winging it, as she suggested when the panic attack builds up in my body.
“Okay, I labeled the buildings you’re going to.”
I read over the purple pen marks. The four buildings I have classes in are circled. She also made extra notes about food and coffee. I glance at my schedule again, frowning.
“This campus is huge! I have to walk from the science building to the math building in fifteen minutes?” I groan. I look at her in disbelief, and she smirks. That’s the difference between Lea and me. I graduated high school with thirty other students; every classroom was in the same building down one long hall. Lea grew up in Nacogdoches, and that high school is practically as big as the university. She smirks every time I complain about the track or crowds, reminding me how different I’m from most students on campus.
She laughs, “It’s not as far as it looks.”
I arch an eyebrow as she stands and pulls her backpack straps in place.
“You could get a bike,” she said, pointing. I follow the end of her finger where a student pedaled by, dodging a crowd. “I bet he went to the student tour yesterday.”
“I think I’ll pass. This place is packed.”
I stare at the campus, noting the sea of students walking to class. Coeds grip their backpacks, laughing and joking as the new semester begins. Most are sporting purple with the college logo on it.
“That’s how it is the first day of each semester. Give it a couple of weeks, some will drop out, maybe get kicked out, and some will have to move back in with mommy and daddy after their second arrest.”
“There’s a fun fact I didn’t see on their website,” I laugh.
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when sheltered kids come to college.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Class is about to start. I should probably get going,” I said.
She sees the look on my face and frowns. “Ah shit, I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but that won’t be you.”
I nod reassuringly. But I can’t pass the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach. Scott, my brother, teases me about this all the time. He tells me he sees a lot of himself in me. Out of my two brothers, Scott is the college dropout, he has a good paying job and a home now, but he had hell getting there after his rebellious days in college.
I wave and start walking, my eyes glued to the map. When a pen thumps me in the back, I scoop it up and look behind me. Shielding the sunlight from my eyes, I spot Lea on the stairs.
“You’re going the wrong way! Meet me in the dining hall after algebra!”
I turn, her finger is pointing to my left. I nod my head and follow in that direction. Throughout my walk, I follow signs, and groups of students. My mom tried unsuccessfully to make me work a community college first, but I didn't have it. Today, I fully understand the phrase ‘culture shock.’
My shoulders sag in relief as I see the building in front of me. Following the signs, I find the room number within minutes. Students fill the desks. Only the first row is empty. I duck my head as I slide into the first seat I find.
Thankfully, no one knows who I am. No one announced the Virgin Mary entered the room as I walked in. No one knows my father or my family. Sighing, I open my used Biology book. I fish out my pencil from my bag.
“We don’t do anything on the first day. Hey, we met at Mystic this weekend!”
I turn in my seat, finding a familiar girl sitting next to me, smiling. I cock my brow, impressed she remembers. She was drunk when she stumbled into the bar.
“Oh, right. I’m Taylor.”
“Shelby. This is your first semester?”
She leans in, curiously. Her hair is pulled back. Its platinum top shines as the light hits it, the bottom layer is black.
“It is. You?”
I humor her with a conversation. I can already tell this girl will drive me insane. My biggest pet peeve was always hearing someone judge people before they knew them. Look at me, a walking contradiction already.
The Lies We Tell Page 14
