The Other Room (Door Peninsula Passions Book 2)

by Katherine Hastings

  At the Blue Ox, I’d primarily cracked beers and dropped off baskets of cheese curds. Sure, it got busy there, but nothing like it did at JJ’s. This was like the Blue Ox on steroids. Like going from college sports straight into the big leagues. Even though I loved my gig at the Ox, when I made the move to Sister Bay it made more sense to work here... only a sixty-second walk down the road from my new cabin. The money was great, the owners awesome to work for, and the customers were all pretty fun. But on Friday nights, when you couldn’t even walk through the sea of people crammed into this little waterfront restaurant, I seriously questioned my sanity in thinking I could survive the summer season working in Sister Bay.

  “Jo! Can we get more margs! One strawberry, one regular,” Andy, one of my regulars, called.

  “Yep. Just a minute.” With a deep breath, I tried to quell the anxiety churning in my gut from the feeling I would never catch up. I was “in the weeds” as we called it, and at the moment I couldn’t even begin to see the way out. But panic wasn’t something I had time for, so I focused on the drink order in my hand and went to work shoveling ice into the blender to make a pitcher of margaritas.

  After another hour of juggling more drinks and food orders than I thought possible, I dropped off a drink at the end of the bar and bolted back to the drink printer to start the process again. Skidding to a stop, I smiled when I saw no little white pieces of paper pouring out of it. I waited for the beep, for the printer to start spitting out drinks again, but after a few moments I exhaled a long breath filled with relief.

  Hanson stepped to my side, puffing hard. Our gazes slid across the restaurant, passing over the few patrons left at the bar, and over to the dining room tables. Only a few scattered customers remained.

  “Holy shit. Are we caught up?” he asked, smoothing the ruffled mess of blonde hair that looked like he’d stood outside in a tornado. I hadn’t had time to check mine in hours, and I wondered now if it didn’t resemble his messy mop from the speeds we’d hit serving drinks tonight.

  “Don’t jinx it!” I slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Sorry. I should know better.”

  “Yeah, you should.” The printer beeped and our groans mingled into one. “Damn it, Hanson! You’ve been bartending here for over twenty years and you still manage to break the cardinal rule of saying we’re caught up and jinxing us.”

  “My bad. I’ve got it.” Sucking the air through his teeth, he grimaced then reached across me and plucked the piece of paper from the printer. “Only a couple of Bernies. Phew.”

  A Bernie was the house shot at JJ’s. It consisted of a shot of tequila topped with an orange sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. A shockingly delicious combination, and we served as many Bernies a night as we did margaritas.

  After taking a moment to catch my breath, I went to work washing the glasses we’d abandoned during the dinner rush. Hanson dropped off the Bernies and joined me in stacking the clean ones on the drying rack and loading the dishwasher again.

  “That was freaking nuts,” I said while I grabbed a rag and wiped the drink rings off the bar.

  “Yep. Gotta love summer in Sister Bay. You regretting leaving the Blue Ox yet?” He taunted me with a grin.

  Chuckling, I pointed to the tip jar. “There’s enough money in there for me to pay my property taxes and insurance for the month, so no... no regrets here. Sore feet, shattered confidence, and anxiety like I’ve never experienced in my life? Yes. Regrets? No.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He patted my back and smiled. “You’re a great addition to the team. I’m glad you joined us. You’re fast. You’re little so you don’t take up much space and I’m not always running into you, and the customers love you.”

  “I’m glad I get the coveted Hanson stamp of approval.”

  “Hanson. It’s still going to take me awhile to get used to that, but it’s starting to stick.”

  His name was Joe Hanson, but we’d decided it was too confusing having two Jos behind the bar, so we’d rolled a round of bar dice to decide who got to keep the name and who’d have to start using a nickname. I’d won three rounds in a row, and we’d settled on calling him by his last name.

  “I like it, Hanson.”

  He gave me a wink. “It’s growing on me.”

  Grabbing a few empty glasses off the bar, I walked back over to the dishwasher. “I thought we were busy when I started here in May. That was a cake walk compared to what’s it been like since July.”

  “Don’t worry, you get used to it. I stopped going home, curling up into a ball and sobbing after summer weekend nights years ago.”

  I burst into laughter and bumped him with an elbow. “Damn. That was my plan for the rest of the evening.”

  “We’re over the rush now, so why don’t you help me clean up and then you can be done for the night. I’ll be able to handle the night crew on my own.”

  “Yeah? You sure?”

  “Yep. We’ve got another couple of months of this, and I don’t want to burn you out and lose you before the season’s over, so consider this a ‘please don’t leave me’ bribe.”

  “Bribe accepted!” I extended my hand, and he took it, giving me a nod while we shook on it. The movement caused his glasses to slip down his nose, so he pushed them back up before getting back to work.

  It took me a half hour just to clean up the mess left behind from the dinner rush, stopping only to refill the drinks of the night crowd while they shook the bar dice cup, cheering over their wins and groaning over their losses.

  “Shit. I put the wrong brand of tequila in this one.” Hanson walked over holding the margarita glass rimmed with a healthy portion of salt. “Here. It’s yours. Punch out, take a load off and enjoy a cocktail.”

  With a sigh and smile, I took the margarita into my sore hands. “No need to tell me twice.”

  After punching out, I climbed into a seat at the bar leaving one space between myself and the mannequin who had lived there for decades and startled most of the new customers. The blonde-haired “woman” we called Wanda received a shocking amount of “sorrys” and “is this seat takens” every evening, and I didn’t think it would ever get old watching people’s faces when they realized plastic women don’t answer.

  At the Blue Ox we had a mannequin who sat by the window named Captain Bailey. At JJ’s it was Wanda. As a local who grew up in Door County, I never really gave much thought to the trend of mannequins taking up space at our bars. Yet here I was again, working at bar with a mannequin and listening to customers apologize to an inanimate object after they bumped into it.

  Never got old.

  “You want anything to eat?” Hanson asked as I settled in.

  “Nah. I snacked on tortilla chips all night. I’m full.”

  “Great job tonight. Here, count the tips.”

  “With pleasure.” Grinning, I took the overflowing pitcher of money from him and dumped it out on the counter. Bartending here was hard work... exhausting, sanity-stripping work. But it was this moment of every night that made it worth it and stopped me from running back to the slower pace of the Blue Ox.

  Between sips of my margarita, I smoothed out the crumpled bills and stacked them in piles of singles, fives, tens, and twenties. While I separated them into equal piles of two that Hanson and I would split, I heard new voices flood into the bar. I looked up to see a few guys filing in through the door, and I groaned when I recognized the one face I’d have happily never seen again.

  Matt Michaelson.

  “Jo?” Matt said, and I curled my lip at him in return.

  His face dropped at my response. Even with his muscular build, strong cut jaw, and piercing eyes, he still managed to look like a small, scolded child when he shrunk beneath my gaze.

  Matt, Aaron, and Tony headed toward me. I’d grown up with all three of them, and had always considered them friends, only one no longer got to wear that title. The one who used to wear the title of best friend, and the one I now considered my mor
tal enemy.

  Matt. Matt the betrayer.

  “Jo!” Aaron grinned, his lips parting between his bushy red beard. “What up, girl? I forgot you worked here now.”

  Before I could answer, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me off my stool, squeezing me so tight I struggled to inhale.

  “Hey, Aaron.” I managed to grunt out. “Hey, Tony.”

  “Hey, Jo!” Tony patted me on the back. “Long time, no see!”

  Aaron set me down, and I slid a glare to Matt. Through gritted teeth, I growled. “Matt.”

  Dropping his chocolate eyes to the ground, he swallowed. “Hey, Jo.” When they lifted back up to meet mine, the sad look he’d been wearing any time I saw him this past year returned. And once again I reminded myself that even though he looked like a scolded puppy who just needed a hug, he was anything but. He was the selfish liar, the betrayer who’d slept with Jake’s fiancé and shaken our little friend group right to the core. There would be no scratches and soothing tones from me for the puppy standing before me. Hell, he was lucky I didn’t swat him upside the head with a newspaper, or maybe even the drink pitcher just within my reach.

  I sat back down, and Tony settled into the stool beside me.

  “We miss you at the Ox,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s been a big change moving to Sister Bay.”

  It was only fifteen minutes away from where I used to live and work, but the faster pace of Sister Bay was a big change from Baileys Harbor, the place locals referred to as “the quiet side” of our little peninsula in Wisconsin.

  “Are you done for the night?” Aaron asked, grabbing the stool on Tony’s other side.

  “Yep. I survived another crazy Friday night. I thought I was prepared for working a summer in Sister Bay... I was drastically wrong.” Laughing, I took a well-deserved sip of my margarita.

  The sweet and sour flavors combined with the salt from the rim and I closed my eyes, letting the tequila work its way into my aching body.

  Matt shifted beside me, and I saw him glance at the last open stool on this side of the bar. The stool that would seat him next to me. One cautious move at a time, he slid into his seat, pausing to look at me before settling all his weight down.

  “Sorry. It’s the last stool,” he said, barely a whisper.

  My only answer was a sideways glare.

  “Hey guys!” Hanson came around the corner and tossed drink coasters in front of them. “What are we having?”

  “Pitcher of margaritas and a round of Bernies, please,” Aaron answered. “You want a Bernie, Jo?”

  Scrunching my nose, I shook my head. “No, thanks. I poured enough of those tonight, so I never want to see one again.”

  “Coming right up.” Hanson smiled and spun around, heading for the tequila bottles.

  “Not guzzling beer tonight?” I asked, turning my body to block Matt out of the conversation.

  “We stopped for beer along the way, but you can’t come to JJ’s and not do margaritas and Bernies,” Aaron answered.

  “Valid.” I lifted mine and took another sip.

  “So, what’s it like over here in Sister Bay? We rarely make it over here. But Tony agreed to drive tonight so Matt and I can booze it up in Sister Bay.”

  “You’re driving next weekend,” Tony answered, pointing a finger in Aaron’s face.

  “Deal.”

  “Sweet.” Tony grinned, his white teeth gleaming as much as his perfectly shaved bald head.

  “It’s good. My cabin is pretty awesome, and right on the water, which is amazing. And it’s right over there.” I jutted a finger out the window pointing in the direction of the cabin I’d inherited just a short jog away.

  “I can’t believe you scored waterfront property in Sister Bay. That’s freaking awesome.” Aaron shook his head.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty crazy.”

  It turned out I’d had a great uncle I’d never met who passed away this past winter, and my mom, his only heir, had inherited the property. Since my parents had a house they loved out in the country, they’d offered it to my sister, Jenna, and I. She’d taken one look at the small “rustic” cabin and turned her nose up at the offer to split it, choosing to stay in the fancy new house she’d just built. I’d been overjoyed at the thought of getting out of my apartment and getting my own place on the water... even if it did need a little TLC.

  Okay, a lot of TLC.

  Hanson arrived carrying a pitcher of margaritas, setting three glasses down then returning with three Bernies.

  “I’m driving,” Tony said, pushing the shot away.

  “Oh shit, that’s right.” Aaron grimaced, then his lips pulled into a smile. “Jo can do it.”

  “Oh God, I do not want a Bernie.” I laughed, but Hanson pushed it my way.

  “You earned several Bernies tonight, Jo. It will help numb the pain you’re going to feel later tonight.”

  “Oh, that pain is already alive and well.” I chuckled and picked up the cinnamon and sugar-coated orange that was lying on top of the glass. “Why the hell not?”

  “Cheers!” Aaron lifted his orange and tapped it against mine, the traditional way to take a Bernie. He leaned over me and bumped his orange against Matt’s, and all eyes fell on me while Matt held his orange slice waiting for me to give him the obligatory cheers. Rolling my eyes, I bumped his hard, nearly dislodging the piece of fruit from his grip.

  “Cheers,” I said, then licked the cinnamon mix off my orange and we all downed our shots then chomped into the fruit.

  “God that’s good!” Aaron announced as he chewed on the remains of his orange.

  The warm liquid burned a trail down the back of my throat, but in only a few moments I felt it start to work its magic. The tension from my busy night slid off my shoulders and I relaxed into my seat.

  “Can we get the bar dice cup?” Tony asked. “I may not be drinking much tonight, but I can still kick their asses in bar dice.”

  “You got it,” Hanson answered, leaning down and returning with the black plastic cup filled with five dice. It was a traditional Wisconsin drinking game I’d mastered during all my years of bartending. The loser of each game bought the winners a round of shots, and it was often the catalyst to a night spent out drinking far more than you’d intended.

  “So how you been, Jo?” Matt asked, a sheepish look tightening his face.

  “Fine,” I snapped back, picking up the bar dice cup, giving it a shake and slamming it down with enough force to shake the whole bar.

  “Jesus, Jo. Whose face were you picturing pummeling with that roll?” Hanson asked.

  My glare slid over to Matt, who slumped a little lower in his seat. “Forty-six in one.” I pushed the dice cup over to Tony.

  “Damn. That’s hard to beat.” He blew out a puff of air and shook the cup, slamming it down with far less rage than me.

  “Twenty-four. Shit.”

  I didn’t try to hide my victorious smile while he slid the cup over to Aaron.

  Aaron rolled a thirty-two, leaving me sitting in the winning seat. With a grumble, he slid the cup and dice back down the bar, and I pushed it in front of Matt.

  “Thanks,” he said, but I just pursed my lips and turned away.

  When he finished his roll with a forty-four, I grinned and leaned back in my chair.

  “Jo’s out,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “Of course, Jo’s out. She always wins.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” I waggled my brows.

  While the three of them continued shaking the dice to narrow down the loser, I sipped on my margarita, helping myself to a refill from the pitcher sitting in front of us. The last round ended in a tie between Matt and Aaron, and I cheered on Aaron while he tossed his last roll.

  “Yes! You lose!” Aaron jutted a victorious finger at Matt.

  “Yep. Matt’s a loser. Surprise, surprise.” I smiled, and the unveiled insult caused Matt to drop his eyes back to the bar.

  “Jo, seriously. Everyone else has for
given Matt for banging Nikki. Now it’s your turn,” Aaron said, having taken notice of my icy attitude to my former best friend.

  “Good for all of you. I’m not the forgiving type.” Crossing my arms, I turned in my seat, leveling Matt with a glare.

  “Jo, I’m sorry. Seriously. It was a fucked-up thing to do, but Jake forgave me. Why can’t you do the same?”

  Why couldn’t I do the same? It wasn’t like he’d slept with my fiancé, but the betrayal to Jake cut just as deep. The three of us had been best friends our entire lives, the Three Amigos as our parents used to call us. We’d played in the sandbox together as kids, learned how to drive together, had our first drinks together, and had maintained that close friendship into adulthood. That was until Matt went and slept with Jake’s fiancé last year, breaking up the Three Amigos and destroying a lifetime of loyalty. Even though Matt had won back Jake’s forgiveness, and Jake was now happy with his new fiancé, Cassie, I didn’t think he would ever win back mine.

  It was me who’d taken care of Jake during the aftermath of losing his fiancé and his honorary brother in one fell swoop. Me who’d helped him crawl out of the hole Matt’s selfish actions had tossed him in. After seeing the wreckage of my other best friend that Matt left in his wake, I didn’t think I could ever forgive him... or want to for that matter.

  “Because you’re an asshole. And I’m not friends with assholes, Matt.”

  “Jo, come on. You have to forgive me. I miss you.” He reached for my hand, but my icy glare slid over the movement and caused him to pull it back.

  “I don’t have to do shit, Matt. You made your bed, now you can lie in it.”

  With a heavy sigh, he flagged Hanson over. “I lost. Another round of Bernies.”

  Hanson nodded and disappeared around the corner to make our shots.

  “Why do you have paint on your hands?” Aaron asked, pointing to the brown specks of paint I’d missed when I washed them before work.

  Staring down at the tiny flecks, I wrinkled my nose. “I’m staining some trim in the spare bedroom of my cabin. The whole thing is in pretty rough shape, but I thought a little stain would at least brighten it up until I can afford to pay someone for repairs.”