The Other Side of Blue: A Best Friend's Sister College Romance

by Anna Bloom

  Greene seemed okay though, and thankfully, so far I’d managed to avoid playing for him. How long that would last, I couldn’t guess. Not long enough.

  I picked up my copy of Wuthering Heights and flicked the pages. We were under one of the wide red leaved trees out on the grass. “You ever read this?” I asked Eva.

  She spied the cover, turning her nose up. “God, no. Looks boring. What’s it about?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s about this desperate and maudlin man called Heathcliff and the passionate but doomed love affair he had with the girl called Cathy. It’s all very depressing. She ends up married to someone else, someone who treats her better, but he can’t stand it. They drive each other insane.”

  Eva rumbled a snoring noise. “Yep. Boring.”

  I chuckled and turned to my dog-eared page. “I’ve got to finish it for Monday.”

  “So, not partying this weekend?”

  I tried not to pull a face. Eva was all about the party, as were the rest of our floor. And that was cool, totally cool, but right now my game plan focused on surviving my hideous violin practice.

  My phone buzzed and I closed the book again. “Luca?” A deep dark stab punched my stomach. I hadn’t called him all week, unsure what to say.

  Eva made kissing noises and I batted her away with my fingers. She sighed and picked up my book, scrunching her face at the small writing and holding it close to her eyes. I snickered and shook my head at her.

  “Just checking you haven’t fallen off the planet,” Luca said.

  I smiled. Hearing Luca felt just a little bit closer to home, and right now home could be as far away as the moon. I may as well be on a different planet. “I’m sorry. It’s been busy.”

  “Lots of drinking and Freshers parties? I bet it’s been busy.” From the other end of the line a spoon clattered against a bowl.

  “Not really. Just straight into lectures, and practicing.” Tell him. Tell him now. Jack is here... how strange... maybe you should come and see him... he hates me and I don’t know why...

  I didn’t say anything.

  “How’s Grams?”

  “She’s fine. Dr. Reed came yesterday, did her bloods etc.”

  “And she’s not too lonely?” My chest pinched in the middle of my ribs.

  “No, Lyra. Contrary to what you believe, you aren’t the center of the universe.”

  “Shut your mouth.”

  He chuckled and then sighed softly, dropping his usual sardonic tone. “It’s quiet here.”

  “Have you been checking in on her every day?”

  “Lyra, I live around the corner. What sort of grandson would I be if I didn’t?”

  “You.”

  I could almost taste his hesitation in the pause that followed.

  “I take it Mom’s still there?”

  “Yeah.” His voice dropped. “She’s clean.”

  “Of course she is.”

  I cast a quick gaze over Eva, who’d actually started reading the first page of Wuthering Heights while I talked. Ha, boring, my ass.

  “She seems better. She’s making soup for Grams, and has been helping clean the house.”

  “Yeah? For what? Does she want a housekeeper wage?”

  “Lyra, come on.”

  “Listen, I’ve got to go. I want to go into town to look for a job,” I said. I held back from blurting the truth about my disastrous trip to town last weekend. Luca definitely didn’t need to know about that, or about my bad-tempered savior.

  Guilt twisted in my gut, but I pushed it away.

  “Are you tight for money? I thought you got your board and meals?”

  “Yeah, I do, but...” Eva glanced over me with interest.

  Luca sighed. “You start sending money home and Grams will be cooking you for Christmas lunch, not a ham.”

  “She won’t even know. You are just going to use it to get her what she needs.”

  “Lyra!” He raised his voice. “I earn enough. Stop it. You should be enjoying yourself. Getting that scholarship is your ticket away from this hell. Don’t ruin it.”

  Little did he know I’d walked straight into hell. I opened my mouth to tell him that I’d stumbled across his old childhood friend, but again I hesitated.

  God curse me, but it seemed the right thing to do.

  “Okay, I’ve got to go.”

  “Miss you,” I whispered, my throat tight.

  “Sure you do. I’m awesome.” And with that he dropped the call.

  Such a dick.

  “Right,” I turned back to Eva, “so you aren’t coming to town with me?”

  She closed Heathcliff down, looking at her page number, and then let out a long groan. “God, no. I think I might have alcohol poisoning.”

  “Maybe have the night off tonight?” I suggested, raising a snort in response.

  “Don’t be stupid, it’s Friday night.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ve done a full week.”

  “I can.” She scowled, but then rubbed at her forehead. “Ugh that hurts. Have you got any Advil?”

  “No.” I laughed and got up from the bench. “Okay, I’m going into town before the shops close.

  She gave me a half-hearted wave—a hungover cheerleader. “Go get em... or something.”

  Laughing, I strolled away, my back firmly to campus and the miserable, rude asshole teaching aides it contained.

  The cab journey only took a short ride. I quickly worked my way along the boutique shops we’d walked past with Alex on the first night out.

  After ten, ‘No thank you’s’, I began to lose hope.

  The last shop on the right side of the street sold floaty clothes in various neutral shades of cream and taupe. I walked in, my resume clutched in my hand, but the redhead with freckles checked out my Doc Martens to the edge of my denim shorts and I turned straight back around.

  I leaned against the glass of the shop frontage, resting my boot against the glass—take that snooty bitch— and contemplated my options.

  Maybe Luca was right? Maybe I didn’t need to worry. I mean, the terms of the scholarship were more than generous.

  No.

  I needed to pay my own way.

  Pulling myself off the wall and gritting my teeth into a painful clench I marched on.

  Someone, somewhere, had to be hiring.

  I ended up down a familiar street, seeing a blue buzzing sign with half the lights on one of the illuminated letters flickering in the early evening light. ‘Lyra, stay away from Blue’s bar, it’s not safe’.

  Grinning to myself, I pushed open the door. At only late afternoon, the doormen hadn’t started their sentry guard; although on a Friday I guessed they would be along soon. Unnoticed, I slipped into the bar. The lights were still low, dark corners for darker things. But with no live music and just an old flashing Jukebox filling the space with sound and bright-red flashing lights, it had a different feel from my previous visit.

  At the bar, a guy with dark hair and a white T-shirt stretched over a toned torso wiped down the wooden surface. “We aren’t open,” he drawled.

  “Door was open,” I countered.

  He lifted his gaze and grinned. “How can I help?”

  I fiddled with the hem of my shorts, tugging at a loose thread and making it hang about three inches longer.

  “I’m looking for a job.” I raised my chin.

  The guy’s hazel gaze swept over me. “You even old enough?”

  “I’m eighteen.” Instinctively, I crossed my arms across my chest. In my head I could hear Grams saying, ‘stop crossing your arms, only fat ladies do that’.

  “You worked in a bar before?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What’s ‘not exactly’?”

  “So, erm, no.”

  He laughed and took another swipe with his cloth at the already gleaming bar top. I bet it wouldn’t look like that later in the evening.

  “What college you with?”

  “Berklee.” I stood a little
taller.

  He tilted his head to one side. “You play?”

  “Violin.”

  Another laugh. “We don’t have much need for strings here.”

  Well duh.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, but—”

  “I sing too,” I said. My stomach tightened into a ball of lead.

  The guy’s smile grew, stretching up the left side of his mouth. “What sort of singing?”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I used to sing at my grandma’s church.”

  My answer amused him.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

  “Nothing, nothing.”

  Getting ready to turn on my heel, I clutched my bag tight across my middle. “Don’t worry about it. I can see you aren’t hiring.”

  I stalked a couple of steps before he called out, “It gets real busy in here.”

  I turned, hesitating.

  “And it’s been known to get handsy. The security team are good, but you’ll need to hold your own.”

  Wait? Was he saying I had a job?

  “Selena has called in sick. Can you start now?”

  I did have a job. Wow. An actual job, with money and...

  He threw a T-shirt from under the counter to me and then reached out to shake my hand. “Evan.”

  “Lyra.”

  He squinted at me and peered a little closer.

  I wanted to ask if I’d actually have to sing. I hadn’t so much as hummed a note in four years, but I also didn’t want him to change his mind.

  “Staff area is out back. Code six, six, six for the keypad.” I must have blanched a little because he chuckled.

  “Go and get changed, then I’ll give you the quickest lesson in bar work you’re ever likely to receive.”

  He seemed friendly enough, and no one else was hiring. What choice did I have?

  Following where he pointed, I stabbed the code into the security pad and pushed through into a grim and dark break area. Crates of bottles lined the walls, all of them wrapped in cling film. Some big kegs teetered precariously in a tower. I found the door with ‘Staff Bathroom’ written on a scrap of paper and tacked to the wood.

  Okay. A bit of grime never hurt anyone, did it?

  This would be money for Grams, and really that was the only thing of any importance.

  Blue’s bar at nine on a Friday evening had more people rammed into it than the sardines in a tin Grams liked to stockpile. I swiped my forearm at my forehead, cringing as strands of sticky hair tangled around my wrist.

  The bar didn’t close for another four hours. It seemed unlikely I’d make it. Any vestiges I had that I’d had a hard-working youth, had been totally blown out of the water by working happy hour. There wasn’t much happy about it. Drunk, yes. Raucous and loud, most definitely.

  “Hey, new girl,” a woman with jet-black hair, even blacker eyes, and a pair of tits pushed into a tight Blue’s bar tank that might have made a grown man weep, called out to me. “You need to clean the right side. We are low on glasses, again. And move it, they won’t wash themselves.”

  A group of about six men leered over the bar at her, waving their money, their attention focused mainly on her chest.

  “I thought I just did it,” I stared wild-eyed at the crammed right side of the bar. Evan had explained the bar floor carved into four quadrants, that way each member of staff knew their responsibility. Selena had stomach flu which left me with two quadrants to man.

  I rushed for the tables, weaving in and out of dancers moving to the beat of the live band. They were softer than the metal punk we’d heard the other night. The entire vibe seemed more chilled, despite the heaving rush of the bar.

  So glad I didn’t have to work the bar.

  “You okay, kid?” Evan caught my elbow and smiled as he glanced over my face. “You look like you’re about to puke with exhaustion.”

  Evan had that emo vibe going, floppy dark hair and a silver nose stud. He had cute freckles though which undermined the desperate and passionate look. His hips were slender, his black skinny jeans hanging low with silver chains for belts.

  “I might. Rhian is busting my balls for not bringing her glasses back quick enough.”

  Evan laughed, his teeth catching the light of the strobes. “Her bark is much worse than her bite.” He waved me on, and I scurried away placing drinks on my tray and hoping to fuck I didn’t drop the lot.

  Back behind the bar, I pulled the rack out of the glass washer and put it to one side, steam lifting in cloudy swirls in the hot atmosphere. Good news, I’d never have to worry about finding the money for a facial.

  Quick as I could, willing my fingers not to shake, I loaded the tray, slid it in and then jabbed at the green button. It had a knack I’d been quick to learn: two jabs and then the third you had to press and hold until your finger felt like it might break.

  Flashing green light on, I turned my attention to the clean tray and quickly balanced them up below the bar.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” A preppy guy waving a fifty called me over. “How about some service?”

  I shook my head and pointed at Rhian who shook a cocktail tumbler like she wanted to murder it. “She’s your woman, I’m just the glass collector.”

  He leaned over the bar, his face disconcertingly close to mine. “I think you could be my woman easily tonight.”

  Ugh. Could his breath smell any more of beer?

  “Back off, buddy.” I took a step back but had already squeezed myself against the bar behind me. At this rate I’d soon be crawling along the bottles of gin and measuring cups.

  His hand reached for my elbow, snagging it and tugging me forward. I braced my hand against the front of the bar to stop my unbalanced fall.

  “Hey, hey.” Rhian flitted to my side, throwing her tattooed arm across my shoulders. “Hands off.”

  The preppy guy, hair unmoving as he threw his head back and laughed, stared at us both in wonder. “You girls are fucking frigid. Now how about you get me and my guys a drink?”

  Wrong words to say.

  Rhian dropped her arm from where it had slung casually around my neck and fisted his pale- blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt at the neck.

  “The only thing you’ll be drinking tonight are the puddles of rainwater on the sidewalk.” She gave a high whistle that probably should have only been heard by dogs.

  Within seconds a meaty hand landed on Preppy Douche’s shoulder. “You’re done,” the doorman said.

  “What? I didn’t do anything. I only wanted a drink.” Preppy Douche’s skin shined with sweat, and an uncontrollable giggle built in the pit of my stomach.

  “If she said you did, then you did.” The meaty claw tightened. The giant doorman, who looked like a cross between The Incredible Hulk and a college star quarterback grinned around at me.

  “Hey, new girl, I’m Eddie.”

  “Hi, Eddie.” I nodded in greeting. He still had Preppy Douche firmly clamped down.

  “Right, you’re barred.”

  “Whaaaat! You can’t do that.”

  Rhian crossed her hands over her chest. “Watch us, slime ball.”

  Eddie hauled the guy away and I stared at Rhian. “What you looking at, Little Miss Green?” She curled her top lip. “Get on with the glasses.”

  I flushed and turned away, realizing a moment too late that Little Miss Green meant naive.

  With my face burning, I stalked back to my double section.

  Maybe I’d made a massive mistake thinking I could work in a place like this. But then as I started to sway to the music, flitting between tables, batting groping hands away, I figured maybe this was exactly what I needed. Here in this dark bar, with people I didn’t know, I could be anyone, and my head would be too busy to think about Jack Cross and what an asshole he’d become.

  The bar had emptied, the last of the stragglers sent on their way by Eddie and his equally huge partner. I wiped down the tables, picking up the stools. I might have been dead. My feet definit
ely weren’t attached to my body any longer.

  I glanced at my watch. One in the morning. Ugh.

  “There’s still a VIP in a booth.” Rhian nodded her head to the other side of the dance floor that hadn’t been mine. I hadn’t even seen the other members of staff. That’s how busy it had been.

  “Oh right.” I turned to go and clear the table, assuming that’s what she meant in her rude ass bitch way of talking.

  “Hey, Lyra.” Evan came out from the back, brown envelopes in his hand. “You did well. Think you’ll be back?”

  “You aren’t sacking me for dropping those glasses?” The fear had been real. So had the clean up.

  “Nah, everyone does the first few times putting hot glasses away.

  Jeez, thanks for the heads up. I’d felt like a dick for hours.

  He handed me an envelope. “Good tips tonight.” The envelope felt heavy in my grip. He tilted his head and watched me from under dark lashes. “Can you do Sunday? I think you might like it.”

  “Ugh sure. What time do you close though? I’ll have early practice on Monday morning.” The blood drained from my head to my toes at the thought of the hellish practice with Jack.

  “Ten on a Sunday, it’s totally different.”

  “Oh okay. Sure.”

  Evan seemed pleased with my response.

  “I’ll go and clear that last table.”

  “Excellent, I’ll book you an Uber home.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” What I meant was, yes please because last time I left here in the dark I got so lost I nearly ended up a Jane Doe in an alleyway.

  “Sure I do, it’s bar policy.”

  “Oh right.” Thank fuck.

  I hadn’t even thought about getting home. Maybe I was Little Miss Green.

  Shooting him a smile, I walked for the round booth with plush blue velvet seating.

  “Hey, we’ve closed, last orders are in.”

  A dark head slumped over a glass of amber liquid and my breath caught in my chest, suffocating the air out of me.

  Blue… no, Jack Cross, lifted his head and leaned back. He blinked at me, like he tried to place where he knew me from.