Mark glared at me but he could shut his mouth. He was the one obstacle between me and getting some breathing space. If Holden didn't leave soon, I wasn't sure if I could survive. With Mark fawning over him, he'd even sat himself down on a stool.
"I'll get the drinks then." He moved to go behind the bar. He trod on the glass, looking down in surprise as it crunched under his feet. I hoped a big shard pierced his foot but nope, not that lucky.
"Just get back to mopping the storeroom, loser. You were so keen on it before." I stared at him. Any normal person would get the hint or pick up that something was going on but not Mark. He was just oblivious.
Although, if he went back to the storeroom, it'd be just Holden and me. Alone in the bar. That was exactly what I didn't want. I needed to avoid being in the same room as him ever again.
Mark noticed the ice-filled towel under my hand and then Holden's jaw.
"Oh, you're getting some ice for him." With that, Mark picked up the towel and handed it to Holden before I could stop him. That was my ice and my hand still hurt.
There was no way out of this situation. I could either be in the bar with Mark who’d turned into a fan-boy all over Holden or get rid of Mark and have to deal with Holden on my own. There was one other option, considering there were far too many people in the bar already.
"Okay, get him a drink. And, while you're at it, clean up the mess behind the bar. The whole place reeks of whiskey." I untied my apron and threw it on the counter. "I'm out of here."
As I walked through the bar, Holden reached out to grab my arm. I knew that trick only too well though and dodged his touch. I wasn't strong enough. If he made contact with me, I’d lose any control I had.
There was only one way I knew of to deal with Holden and that was to put as much distance between us as possible. Holden played my weaknesses and my biggest weakness of all was the way my body ached for him.
Chapter 3
WHEN I GOT OUTSIDE, I ran as fast as I could in my chunky boots. Why was he back? How long did he intend to stay? The pounding of my feet on the concrete echoed my darkest thoughts. I wanted to outrun all the bad memories in my head. I wanted to put distance between me and my worst nightmare.
I could not be around that man. If let my guard down for even a second, he’d reclaim his grip on me. It had taken me so long to rebuild my life after he’d left and the rebuilding was as frail as some shit construction a kid made with wooden blocks. The slightest bump could have it crashing down to a shattered pile.
Maybe he was just passing through town on his way to important rising rock star business and decided to drop by. There was no reason for him to hang around. I slowed down so my brain could work through this. What would a successful rocker be doing coming into our bar? Not for the atmosphere, that's for sure. He was definitely just passing through. And wanted to fuck with me.
He might be gone by the time my shift officially started. I just had to cool my heels for a few hours.
That was easier said than done. I had no idea how to kill time. I could go home and play PlayStation for a few hours but he knew where I lived. He could turn up there. I was better off being somewhere anonymous.
I’d left my gym gear at the bar or I’d head there and smash these feelings out of my body. That'd be the best thing. A few rounds with the bag... Hell, that was even out of the question because Holden King’s stupid face had messed up my fist.
The whole concept of killing time outside the club was so weird to me. Usually, I was either at home or at the gym or working.
I wandered around the shops in the middle of town but everything was so boring, all chain stores with nothing I wanted even if I could afford to spend money on clothes. Most of the clothes I had came from op shops and most of the places I went to were over the other side of town. I wasn't in the mood to head over there.
I couldn't even ring Violet to hang out because she was busy. Damn her and her new-found love.
The business districts weren't that far from Trouble but they were a whole other world. People walking around in their suits, talking on their phones like they were super important.
I headed into a shop. They had some ugly shoes but I'd forget about Holden and try to imagine what it'd be like being one of those important people. I’d have a job in a high-rise office and have to file and photocopy stuff and whatever else it was people did in offices. I’d wear a suit and have long, shiny hair. And I’d never, ever get emotional enough to punch anyone.
As I picked up a pair of bubble-gum pink boots, someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I jumped in the air and let out a scream. He'd found me? How could he? The fantasy of me as a super organized business person fell away as my chest tightened. I dropped the boots back on the table and got ready to run.
When I turned, though, it was Gina. She was a regular at the bar.
"Sorry, Carlie. I didn't mean to scare you."
I smiled at her, hoping to reassure her. "No worries, I was just lost in thought."
"I don't think those boots will suit you. What are you doing in this part of town?”
At least Gina could take my mind off things and I'd been meaning to question her about her involvement with Jackson. The cynical, ex-guitarist bar fly and this shy girl were the most unlikely combination I could think of but they seemed to be spending a bit of time together lately. Idle curiosity about other people’s lives is the best way to deal with your own life falling apart.
"Want to grab a coffee? I have a bit of time until my shift starts."
She headed to some generic coffee shop with light wood furniture and bright lighting. Not the kind of place I'd pick myself but their cakes sure looked tasty. I rarely indulged in sweets because I trained too hard but that chocolate cake might help settle the emotional turmoil inside me.
When we got settled in, I asked her about Jackson.
She blushed. She blushed bright red. She started to speak then stopped herself. Her gaze went all around the place, not settling on anything. She twirled her hair around her finger. Gina had fantastic long hair but she normally wore it like a shield to hide behind.
I picked at my cake and waited for her reply. It had some kind of mousse stuff in the middle. I wasn’t sure about that.
"We're just friends," she finally said.
I didn't want to push it but I needed to take my mind off my own problems and she'd never say a thing unless I asked. Maybe I could help her with things — because I was so successful myself in matters of the heart. Actually, she'd be better off taking advice from pretty much anyone else in the world but me. Like that homeless woman who hung around outside the club. I’d seen her with a big bunch of flowers once so even she must’ve had an admirer.
"But you want it to be more, don't you?"
She looked down at her hands, not answering. Ouch. I should've kept my mouth shut. Her face grew redder.
"Yes," she finally said in a barely audible voice.
I had no idea what she saw in him myself. Jackson had been riding high as a guitarist. He was super talented and playing in a really popular band. Then there'd been an accident and he'd stuffed up his hand. Now he sat at the corner of the bar, drinking and bitter with life. In truth, Jackson was probably the man I spent more time with than any other male in my life except for maybe Drew. But our relationship would never be more than crusty old drunk/snarky barmaid. He was a good-looking guy in his own way, but that way was far too hardened for me. He couldn't even have been that old, only in his 30s but I always thought of him as an old guy.
Jackson had been through shit in his life. Some of it, like the accident, was public knowledge and some he kept to himself. But that shit had scarred him and made him bitter. He’d given up the fight. He'd stopped playing in his band and never talked about it. All anyone knew was to not ask him about it. He was like an injured tiger, attacking anyone who came close. You'd think he'd eat someone like Gina for breakfast but I'd noticed he was gentle with her in a way he rarely was with
anyone else.
"He's a strange one, that's for sure."
Gina nodded. "But he gets me."
That said it all.
I’d thought Holden was the one who got me. The one who accepted me for who I was, no matter what. I’d been wrong. No man I’d met since had ever measured up though. They’d all seemed like second best, like some vital ingredient had been missing.
"I hope it works out," I said.
She grinned at me in a wavery way. There didn’t seem to be a lot of hope in that grin.
I tried another bite of the cake but, to be honest, it was a bit stale and not delicious. As I bent my hand around my fork, I grimaced.
"What have you done to your hand?" Gina asked.
My knuckles were a bit swollen but nothing too serious. Maybe I needed to bring boxing gloves into the bar so I could protect my hands if Holden came back in. Or maybe a shotgun. I’d point it at him and tell him to get the hell out of Dodge, like in some old-time Western. Or I could get revenge on him by setting him up with some chick who had the clap. A good dose of knob rot would be karma for him.
I checked my watch. I still had an hour or more before I needed to head back to the bar. I searched my mind for something to talk about. I sure as hell didn't want to talk about myself. I tried to focus on chatting but my head buzzed so much that I couldn’t make small talk. Gina didn’t seem to mind.
We both ended up sitting, staring into our coffee cups. Some easy listening music played in the background. One of those vaguely hipster bands. The housewives left to be replaced by kids on their way home from school.
Eventually, it got to the point where I had to go back to the bar. My stomach flipped around like a pit of snakes were fighting in there.
Surely he'd be gone. He had no reason for sticking around. He had no reason for turning up in the first place.
I had to do it. I had to get back there and face the rest of my life, one way or the other. Those drunks wouldn’t serve themselves. Well, they would but they sure as hell wouldn’t pay for it.
I wasn't normally the type to run away from trouble but I could not face Holden King.
Chapter 4
WHEN I GOT BACK TO the club he was still there. Not alone either but with a whole crowd gathered around. Mark had settled himself on the barstool next to Holden and chattered away like they were best buddies.
Razer and Violet had come back and joined in the fun. Even Jackson, still sitting on his usual barstool, had turned to face Holden.
A sigh wrenched through my body. They'd all taken sides against me. In my absence, they'd started an "I love Holden" club and that club, by default, would become an "I hate Carlie" club too.
I knew that wasn't the case. It was just my paranoia talking.
He was definitely a charming man, especially with people he'd just met. In fact, that was where he shone, with random people who only knew the surface. When they didn't get close enough to see the dark swamp of crap that hovered just below. That's what made him a star, that instant connection to people. Well, that and the music. But it made him a shit person in the longer term.
Maybe I was being unfair. He wasn’t a bad person to other people.
Violet saw me enter and came over, the questions burning on her face. Of course, she had questions. After what had happened earlier, the questions had to be scorching. I'd sure as hell have questions for anyone else if they’d done something like I’d done.
Her eyes shone bright and I was thankful that the love spark in her made her less likely to pry too much into my business. We were friends but even then, I didn't want her delving too deeply into aspects of my life. I didn't like to parade my pain in public. I was much better at giving advice than taking it.
"I used to go out with him, we can leave it at that." I didn't want to get into a discussion about it.
I looked her in the eye as I said it, trying to convey that it was nothing, he meant nothing but, after my outburst, I couldn't brush off my feelings that easily. Punching someone in the face makes it difficult to pretend you don't care.
"Sorry, Carls. If it makes you uncomfortable, we won't talk to him. I'll tell Razer to get away."
I shook my head. I couldn't make someone not talk to him. A famous rock star comes into a rock bar and people want to talk to him. He'd have a hundred stories, all spun out for maximum amusement and polished to a shine for an occasion just like this. The air of success hung around him like a shining light. People would always want a piece of that.
"It's fine. I just wish he'd left earlier. I was hoping he'd be gone before I got back. I need to get my head together."
Violet laughed. "You know why he's here."
If she thought he was here to see me, she was sorely mistaken. To torture me, maybe. To show me what a huge success he'd become and rub that in my face, maybe. But anything else was just her love-addled brain seeing illusions.
“I’m just going to ignore him,” I said.
But that was easier said than done when the whole bar buzzed around him like he was the sun at the center of the solar system.
“You’ll have to serve him when you start your shift,” she said.
That was the problem. He'd order a drink and I'd have to look at him. He'd pass me his money, making sure our hands touched, just lightly. That was the way he played it. It'd be an hour until the other staff started work so it was just me behind the bar with no way out of this.
“I could get Mark to take over my shift.”
Violet nodded at Mark. “He’s not leaving his new buddy. He thinks Holden’s his best friend now but I’m not sure Holden is as keen.”
Just the way his name came out so easily in her conversation made me feel a twinge. But there was no way out of this. He’d wedged his way into my life in just a few short hours. I needed to unwedge him somehow.
I put my apron back on.
"I did set up since I wasn't sure if you'd be back," Mark called to me. "And I cleaned up your mess."
“Big fucking whoop. I do set up every single night while you just breeze in and start your shift.”
He owed me some major set up debt but I never belly-ached about it. He was just big-noting himself, like he actually cared about how things ran around here. Mark could die. He could fall down dead off his bar stool. If he hadn’t encouraged Holden, Holden probably would've left by now and I'd not have this sick, wrenching feeling in my gut.
“Well, some of us have other things to do besides hang out here and play Galaga.”
“Carlie goes to the gym,” said Violet.
I wasn’t sure if that was some attempt to make me seem more interesting but I had no shame about it. I wasn’t interesting. I wasn’t fun. But I was surviving until now.
“She sure does,” Holden replied. And, even though I didn’t look, I knew he was rubbing his jaw again.
The music on the stereo buzzed too loud and the lights made my head ache. Maybe I should just chuck a sickie and go home. These weren't conditions I could work in. I could curl up in bed, well away from the bar, and forget that Holden King ever existed. Because that had worked so well for me in the past.
I grabbed a drink and checked that Mark had set everything up properly. He always moved things around when we had a system. If the lemon slices were in the wrong place, I had to waste time searching for them. And he always put the tongs in weird places.
I wouldn't go home. I wouldn't let Holden see how much he rattled me. I could act like this was just any old night for me.
Which it was.
"Are you even working tonight?" I asked Mark. I hadn’t seen his name on the roster.
"No, I'm heading upstairs soon."
I picked up a glass and polished it. Glass polishing wasn't usually a thing. Our customers cared more about the booze in the glass than if it gleamed but it kept my hands busy and gave me an excuse to stand at the opposite end of the bar. I don't think any glass in the entire bar had ever been polished like that glass was polished.
A couple of customers came in and I had to move out of my comfortable corner to serve them.
“A couple of beers, thanks.”
I grabbed the glasses and tried to keep my hands steady. They might've been the worst beers I ever poured but the customers didn't care.
They laughed. All of them. Even Jackson. I couldn't hear what Holden said and I didn't want to. I turned the music up, even though the noise bugged me. If I had it loud enough, maybe he'd go somewhere quieter so he could hear his own voice.
I couldn't even get him kicked out since he wasn't technically doing anything wrong. If he was a random guy who'd come in off the street or some unknown, I wouldn't need a reason but even if I got one of the bouncers involved, they'd probably end up fan-boying over him like everyone else.
I picked up another glass then realized someone was at the bar. One of the regulars. Damn customers, interrupting my angsting. They ordered a rum and Coke but kept glancing over at Holden like they wanted to be part of his fun gang.
Shitheads should have to get "shithead" tattooed on their foreheads so people knew. Holden wasn't fun.
Then my gaze hit him. I didn't mean to look and I turned away as soon as my eyes connected but I had definitely looked at him. And he'd seen me.
I wouldn’t do it again, though. He could sit there all night and he’d be blocked from my sight.
He watched me. I knew it. His gaze burnt into me and made me overly conscious of my every movement. Even the back of my neck flushed and my body prickled. The effort not to turn towards him wore on me.
Why had I worn such an ugly dress to work? It never fit me properly and I had to constantly pull it down and adjust it. All my cute dresses had been in the wash and I figured this one would do. I preferred to wear dresses behind the bar because I got too hot in jeans and, okay, because I had sensational legs. They were my best feature. At least this dress was short enough to show them off.
I pulled up the neck, covering my collarbones. Even though he’d still know it was there, I didn’t want him seeing that stupid tattoo.
Rock Star Returns: Carlie's Story (Access All Areas, #2) Page 2
