Southern Secrets

by Madison, Natasha

  "We are trying to see if anything here is out of place," Jacob says.

  "What are you looking for exactly?" I ask. Getting up, I look around, walking through the ashes.

  "Anything you think shouldn’t be here," Ethan says, and I watch as they make their way down different sides. Something white catches my eyes in the grass a couple of feet from where the side of the barn used to be.

  Once I get there, I squat down and pick up the white piece and hold it in my hand. "Jacob," I call his name, and they both look at me. "Would a cigarette be out of place?"

  Chapter 6

  Amelia

  The alarm wakes me up, and I reach out of my blanket to turn it off, then bring my arm back under the thick heavy white duvet cover. I turn onto my back and stretch, my body hurting from staying up most of the night.

  I toss the cover off me and get out of bed. If I stayed in bed any longer, I would not get up. Walking into my bathroom, I go straight to my walk-in closet and grab the black jeans and a black tank top. Dressing, I walk to the bathroom and look at my reflection. My eyes look like I haven’t slept in weeks. Turning on the cold water, I fill my hands and then splash it on my face. Reaching for a towel, I dab my face and grab some makeup to make me look human.

  Slipping on my cowboy boots, I grab a jean jacket and walk out the door. My phone rings as soon as I sit in the car, and I see it’s my mother.

  "Hey, Momma," I say as I connect my phone to the Bluetooth.

  "Hey, baby girl," she says, and I smile every single time she calls me that. I could be fifty, and she would still call me baby girl. "Where are you?"

  "I’m in the car on the way to the bar." I pull out of my driveway.

  "Did you even sleep?" she asks, and I chuckle. "Don’t you laugh at me, Amelia Charlotte McIntyre."

  "Ohhh, full name always means business," I say softly. "I’m fine, Mom."

  "You are burning the candle at both ends, baby girl," she says softly. "And you know what happens then."

  "We get another candle," I joke with her.

  When the bar comes into view, my face lights up in a smile. This is what I’m working myself to the bone for. The bar is owned by my aunt Savannah. When we were little, we used to be able to come here on special occasions when she would have family day. I had the most fun line dancing with Chelsea and my aunts to playing hide-and-seek behind the bar. When I turned eighteen, I begged her to give me a summer job. She was adamant about me only working during the day when she was there. It took me a week to beg her to give me a Saturday night. She only agreed because she was stuck, and she was working. It was the most fun I’ve had in my life behind the bar mixing drinks and laughing with everyone. I knew then and there that this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to own the bar. I worked part-time even when I was in college, and finally, when I got my business degree, I went to see her. I sat down with her and asked her what it would take for me to buy the bar from her.

  She was shocked that was what I wanted to do, and with tears in her eyes, she took out the papers to the bar and was ready to sign it over to me for fifty cents. I refused it; I would not just take it from her. I want to own it outright. I want it to be mine. We agreed on a price, and every single month, I pay her until it is paid off. It was supposed to take me ten years, but I’ve done it in less than five, and I only have four more payments to go.

  "I really wish you would just work at the barn or the bar," she huffs.

  "I know that I’m going to have to pick eventually," I say, pulling into the empty parking lot.

  "If it’s a money thing, you know I’m more than happy to help." I groan, and my mother laughs.

  "Why are you so freaking stubborn?" she says. "Exactly like your father."

  "Hey, I come from good stock," I say, and she goes soft. "I have to go, Mom. How about we have lunch this week?"

  "I’ll call you tomorrow," she says. "Love you, baby girl."

  "Love you, too, Mom." I hang up the phone and look around the empty parking lot.

  I’m surprised since Dolly is supposed to be here already. I grab my phone and see that I don’t have any messages from her. I get out of the truck and walk toward the entrance. The brown door has the name The Hideout painted blue on it. Unlocking the door with the keys I grabbed from my purse, I walk in and hear the alarm start to buzz. I punch in the code and look around.

  It’s exactly how I left it Saturday night when I left. One thing I did when I took over was close on Sunday. I made some small changes like adding a sports station with big screens so people can come in and watch the games. I have it totally closed off with its own bar and tables so it blocks the music.

  I moved the bar from the wall to the center of the room in a big U. I made more barstools available, and I got me another bartender in, so the drinks flew out faster, which means they came back faster. I moved the dance floor all the way to the back of the house with a bigger stage for live music on Friday and Saturday nights.

  I turn on the lights and walk toward the back office, my phone ringing. I pull it out of my back pocket and see Dolly’s name.

  "Hello," I say, walking into the little office. It has a desk and two chairs, the top of the desk totally organized.

  "Amelia." I hear Dolly groaning, then coughing. "I’ve been up for the past two days. I have a fever and a terrible cough."

  "Oh no, have you seen a doctor?" I ask, putting my purse in one of the chairs.

  "I have an appointment tomorrow. I was hoping that I could pop some ibuprofen, but I just can’t."

  "No, of course not. Don’t worry about it," I say, closing my eyes and worrying about it. "We’ll be fine."

  "I’m so sorry," she says and coughs again.

  "It’s perfect, okay? Get better and let me know what the doctor says." I hang up the phone and walk out, calling my other waitress, who doesn’t answer.

  The door opens, and I look up to see Jill walking in. "Happy Monday," she says, all chipper, and then she sees my face. "Why do you not look happy?"

  "Dolly is sick," I say, and she stares at me. "It’s just you and me, sugar," I say, and she rolls her eyes.

  "Are there any big games tonight?" she asks, and I nod my head.

  "We have two baseball games," I say, and she puts on a brave smile.

  "It’ll be fine. People can wait five more seconds for drinks," she says. "It’s going to be fine."

  "You know my rule," I say. "No one waits for a drink."

  "Well, today they do, and you’ll see that the world is not going to end," Jill says, walking into the sports area. "I’ll take this bar. You take that bar, and people can come see us for drinks."

  I close my eyes and try not to let it get to me. I walk to the bar and start setting it up. I know that if I call Chelsea, she would come in and help me, but I also know she didn’t sleep last night and worked all day at the clinic.

  I make sure I’m all set up, and we all have enough ice. I’m about to go and grab a couple of bottles from the back when the front door opens, and the construction guys start to pile in. They usually come here every Monday and Friday to start and end the week.

  "Howdy," I say to them as they walk in. Their shirts are dirty from working all day.

  "Hey, Amelia," one of them says as they fill the stools at the bar.

  "Where is Dolly?" another one asks me.

  "She’s sick," I tell them as I start filling drink orders. I work my way down the bar and look up, shocked to see more people than usual on a Monday night.

  I see about ten guys come in and go straight into the sports room. I try to peek in to see if Jill needs help, but someone else comes to the bar to order.

  I spot a couple of people come in and go straight to the billiard room. "I’ll be right over," I tell them, and one of them holds up his hand with two fingers, so I know to bring them two beers.

  I fill the orders and then rush back to bring them drinks when a table of girls signals me over to give me their mixed drinks order.

  I get
back behind the bar when I feel someone next to me. "Hey," Asher says, going to wash his hands. "What’s going on here?"

  "When did you get here?" I ask, shocked that he is drying his hands and then walking down the bar toward the end to grab the empty glasses and put them in the gray dirty bin.

  "Thirty minutes ago," he says.

  I finally look at him when he walks back to the end of the bar. "Um, what are you wearing?" I ask as I start to mix ice and tequila. I press the blender, and he looks over at me, and I notice how small his shirt is.

  "This"—he points at his whole body—"is all Quinn’s." I throw my head back and laugh. Turning and watching him, his black hair looks like he just ran his hand through it. His eyes are a soft brown but turn green when he’s in the sun.

  "It’s a little bit of a tight fit," I say, and he looks over at me, and I wink at him. "How about you bring this to the girls so they can keep ordering drinks?”

  He shakes his head. "Not on your life." He walks over to grab two shot glasses. "I walked in with them, and all I heard were cat noises," he says, and I place the drinks on the tray. "I’ll make sure this is taken care of."

  "Thank you," I say. Finally, at ten o’clock, the last person walks out, and I look over to see that he’s wiping down the tables.

  Jill comes over to me and hands me the black money bag. "Sports room is all clean."

  "Thank you so much, Jill." I smile at her. "See you on Friday."

  "I’m covering for Dolly tomorrow. She already called me," she says over her shoulder. "See you later."

  I clean behind the bar, and when I look back up, Asher is taking the glasses to the back and setting them in the dishwasher. "I don’t know if I can repay you," I say when he comes back out, and I finish counting the till. "This is for you." I hand him the white envelope.

  "You aren’t paying me for tonight," he says, and I laugh.

  "Good to know," I say. "But that is your share of the tips." I move the envelope. "Come on, you earned it."

  He shakes his head. "I owed you from today." I tilt my head to the side, confused. "You let me stay at your house."

  "Oh, that?" I shake my head. "That wasn’t a favor. After smelling you, it was …" I don’t have to finish the sentace when he starts to laugh as he leans against the bar, and he looks exhausted. "How was today?"

  "Exhausting," he answers.

  "Where are you staying tonight?" I ask, and he looks down and then up.

  "You don’t have anywhere to stay."

  "I was just going to stay in the truck," he answers honestly. I’m expecting him to argue with me and come up with an excuse. What I’m not expecting is what comes next. "Trust me, it’s not the worst place I’ve ever slept." My heart shatters in my chest with just that one sentence.

  Chapter 7

  Asher

  The words leave my mouth with a laugh, and I watch her eyes the whole time. I wait to see if she will look at me differently. Her eyes never leave mine, and they never change. "I’ve seen the inside of that truck." She shakes her head, and I have to literally catch my breath at her beauty. I noticed her the minute I started working at the farm. I also knew I wasn’t going to disrespect the family by going after her. So I keep my distance and watch her from afar, hoping like fuck no one notices.

  "When I was fifteen …" I want to slap my hand in front of my mouth to stop it from talking, but with her, all I want to do is to keep talking, just to be with her. "My foster brother, Ryan, and I found this couch in one of the alleys." I shake my head, thinking back to that time. "We had both decided that we were not going back to our foster home." I start to tap my finger on the bar. "We had seventeen dollars between us. God, we were such idiots."

  "You were fifteen, and you thought you could live off seventeen dollars?" she asks, laughing and shaking her head. Her blue eyes light up. I can see she’s tired, and I know I shouldn’t keep her any longer than I am. She walks around the bar. Her black jeans mold to her hips, the blank tank top sticks to her small frame. "What happened?" she asks, pulling out a stool and hopping on it.

  "We decided to spend the night resting. Hit the pavement the next day and start looking for jobs," I say.

  "Well, at least you had a plan." She puts her hand up and leans her forehead on her fist.

  "Oh, we had big plans," I say, climbing onto the stool next to her. "We were going to rule the world." I laugh, folding my hands together. "The night was hard. The honking, the sirens, the smell of urine … it was so gross." I look down at my hands. "But we were together and safe."

  "Why do I feel like something is coming?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

  "Oh, it came alright. The next day, we couldn’t stop scratching." She gasps out and puts her hands in front of her mouth. "Turns out, the couch was full of bedbugs."

  She claps her hands together. "Oh my God. What did you do?"

  "Nothing." I shake my head, turning to her. "This scar right here"—I point at a small scar right under my eye—"is from that."

  "That is horrible," she says, and I shrug.

  "Like I said, I’ve slept in worse places than the truck. I’ll be fine," I say, getting up. "Let’s go. It’s getting late."

  “Seriously, though," she says, not moving from her stool. "Why don’t you just stay with me?"

  "Because your family has helped me more than anyone else in my whole life," I say.

  "What if it was me?" she asks, making me stop in my tracks. "Or anyone in my family? What if we lost everything we had, and you had this house with three bedrooms? Would you not offer it to us?"

  "Of course, I would," I say, not skipping a beat.

  "Good, so we got that covered. You can stay with me under one condition," she says, getting off the stool. "You never wear those jeans again."

  I stand, folding my hand over my chest, knowing that I shouldn’t take her up on her offer. I knew when I parked the truck in the parking lot tonight that I shouldn’t come here. I knew when I walked in and saw her running back and forth that I should stay out of it. I knew all that, instead of following the yelling that was in my head. But what did I do? I jumped behind the bar and helped her out without thinking twice. "What are people going to say?"

  Her eyebrows pinch together when she looks at me. "Well, they are going to think that I’m helping a friend out since you lived in our family barn that burned to the ground." She walks to the back of the bar toward the office.

  "This is a horrible idea," I say to myself. "Just leave and say no," I say, knowing full well I would never leave her to walk to her car by herself in the dark.

  "Okay, I’m ready to go," she says, coming back with her purse in her hand.

  I wait for her to walk toward the door before I walk behind her. She sets the alarm and turns off the light, taking one look back at the bar and smiling. We walk out, and the dark air is still. "Is it always this dark?" I ask, and she looks around.

  "No," she says and looks up to see two of the spotlights are off. "Fuck, I need to change the lights."

  "I’ll do it tomorrow," I say, and she grabs her phone out of her pocket. "What are you doing?"

  "Making a note so I don’t forget," she says.

  "I just told you I’m going to do it," I say, and she ignores me and starts to walk toward her car. "Why are you like that?" I ask her when she stops right beside her car, folding my arms over my chest.

  "I don’t know,” she huffs out. "Why are you like you are?" she throws back at me, going to her purse to fish out her keys. "Why don’t you accept help when you are given it?"

  "You are a pain in the ass," I finally say, instead of saying she is right.

  "Well, good news, then." She presses the button to open her car door. "I take it you will be coming to sleep in a bed tonight instead of a back seat?"

  "Do I have a choice?" I ask, reaching out to open her door.

  "We all have choices, Asher," she says, standing in front of me. "You have a choice to be an idiot and sleep in the back of your truck …"
She tilts her head to the side, and even in the dark of the night, I can see the crystal in her eyes. "Or you can take me up on my offer and sleep in a bed that does not have bedbugs but that has been thrown up on and cleaned."

  I laugh at her. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no to a bed that once had vomit on it?"

  "Good choice," she says. "I’m going to pick up food on the way home. If you get there before me, the garage code is one, two, three, four."

  "Your garage door is one, two, three, four?" I ask, shocked. "Your uncle is Casey Barnes, and you have one, two, three, four as a fucking code?"

  She rolls her eyes at me. "You can change it if you like." She reaches out and grabs the door handle. I help her close the door, and I stand here, watching the car drive away.

  Shaking my head, I grab the phone out of my pocket and walk back to the door of the bar. I turn on the flashlight and point it toward the spotlights that are out and I see that there is a hole in one of them. I look down at the ground and see the small pieces of glass on the ground. I snap a picture of the light and then walk over to the other one. I can’t see anything wrong with it.

  I walk back to my truck and feel eyes on me. I turn around with my flashlight from my phone looking around. "Hello," I say to no one. I turn from one side to the next seeing no one there, but still feeling eyes on me.

  I look at the clock and see that it’s almost eleven and I don’t know who is up. Instead, I send a text to Ethan, Casey, and Jacob.

  Me: There is one busted light at the bar. Is there a camera feed?

  My phone rings in my hand. I look down and see that it’s Jacob.

  "Hey." I start my truck now.

  "What do you mean the lights are busted?" Jacob asks right away, and I can hear rustling in the background.

  "I was walking Amelia out of the bar, and I realized it was pitch black. She thought the lights were out, but when I went back and checked, I saw one busted. I can’t see the other one in the dark, but I’m going to come by tomorrow and change it."