“Yes, sir.”
He tilted his head toward the back bar, signaling me to follow. The bartender there was now wiping down the counter while his eyes tracked my movement. He nodded his head in my direction by way of greeting, but before I could return the nod, Bruce Banner’s alter ego spoke again. “Well, you may be in luck. I just had my best and, unfortunately, my most unreliable bartender up and quit on me. No notice. So I’m a little desperate. You ever bartend, son?”
With a grimace, I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I’ve never bartended in the traditional sense, but I know how to make a lot of drinks. Plus, I’m a very quick study. You won’t be disappointed.”
The Hulk grunted as his eyes moved across the restaurant, and he rubbed a hand along his jawline. When his eyes made their way back to me, he gave me an uncertain glance before exhaling loudly.
Sensing he was about to turn me away, I rambled on. “I can also work as many hours as you need. Other than looking for a place to live, I don’t have anything going on right now. I can—”
“No need to continue.” He interrupted with his giant hand held up before him. “Like I said, I’m desperate. I’ll name five drinks. You make ‘em well, and the job is yours temporarily. Sound good?” He must have taken my desperate plea at face value because he didn’t even wait for a response before he started naming drinks. “Long Island Iced Tea, Bloody Mary, Mai Tai, Whiskey Sour, and a Margarita.”
I quickly went about locating the ingredients and making the drinks as the bartender walked away and the Hulk watched. After I lined up all five, he took a sip of each and gave me an almost indifferent look before he hollered across the bar to where the hostess, Sadie, and the guy who’d just left were talking closely. “Derek! Quit flirtin’ and get your ass over here.”
Derek walked over and raised his chin in my direction before turning his attention to his manager behind the bar. “Mickey, quit embarrassing poor Sadie. She just can’t help herself.” One exasperated eye roll later and the Hulk, or I guess I would have to call him Mickey now, pointed toward the drinks, giving Derek a silent command.
“Wow, these are really fucking good. Good thing Ally quit. I should have screwed—” Derek paused at Mickey’s glare but continued almost immediately with an amused grin in place. “I mean, good thing Ally quit before this guy came along and screwed her out of a job anyway.”
“At least this one you won’t sleep with,” Mickey said almost to himself before he shook his head and turned to face me again. “Anyway, the job is yours. Derek will get you the paperwork, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s also looking for a roommate. It’s only a ten-minute walk from here. Perfect for freeing up parking spaces and me not having to worry about your drunk asses getting home after closing.”
“You looking for a place?” Derek inquired.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Mickey spoke first, like he hadn’t even brought up this whole separate subject. “You can start tomorrow night. A Thursday night will give you a nice preview of what to expect on the weekend. If you can come in a half hour early, we can discuss salary and how many hours you want to work.” There was absolutely no way any of what he said was a question, but he looked at me expectantly anyway.
“Sounds great, sir. Thank you so much.” I held out my hand.
Mickey nodded as he wrapped his giant hand around mine and gave it a quick pump. “And no more sir,” he said before stomping away to the front of the restaurant.
“Friendly, ain’t he?” Derek grinned. “What’s your name?”
“Gabe.”
“I bet Mickey didn’t even ask that, did he?”
“No, he didn’t,” I answered before letting out a brief laugh. This was undoubtedly a strange interview.
Derek shook his head before reaching his hand across the bar. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out, but I’m Derek.”
“Good to meet you,” I said as I shook his hand.
“Same here.” He pulled away and began cleaning up my mess. I immediately began helping where I could.
“So you’re looking for a roommate?”
“Yeah.” Derek nodded as he finished off one of my drinks. “Seriously, dude, these are amazing. You’ve really never bartended before?”
I glanced around the bar. “Nope, this is my first bartending gig. I spent the last few months traveling and drinking… a lot. I guess I just picked up a lot of stuff.” He nodded again before picking up the last relatively full drink and tossing it back. “So was that a legit offer?” I asked as I waved my hand in the direction Mickey went.
“Yeah, absolutely. Since this month just started and I’ve already paid the rent, you won’t owe me anything till the fifth of next month. It’s seven fifty a month, utilities and shit included.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
He nodded and looked toward the clock on the wall. “I get off at four. Do you need help moving your stuff?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t have much. I just have a few things I need to pack up from my ex’s place, but other than that, most of my stuff is in my car.”
“All right, sounds good.” Derek grabbed a napkin and scribbled down some information before handing it over. “Here’s my phone number and the address. You can stop by anytime after five.”
I looked down at it before shoving it in my pocket. “Okay, thanks again.”
“No problem,” he said as a phone beeped. Derek pulled it from his pocket before scowling as he typed out a text. After he set the phone on the table, he grabbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes.
My eyebrows pulled together. “Everything okay, man?”
His head snapped up like he’d forgotten I was there.
“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine.” He waved off my question as he schooled his expression. “My sister’s mad at me. Apparently, I don’t treat her boyfriend with enough respect.” He rolled his eyes before pausing to look at me. “You got a sister?”
I nodded as he stepped out from behind the bar.
“Is anyone ever gonna be good enough for her?”
Smiling, I answered, “No.”
“See? It’s a big brother’s job to hate the boyfriend,” he said with a grin as he held out his arms. “And we just happen to be great brothers. You’ll have to make sure and tell my sister that when you meet her.” My smile slipped as he started walking toward the kitchen. “It was good to meet you, Gabe. I’ll see you later tonight?”
Wordlessly, I nodded. He didn’t seem to notice my fallen mood as the door swung shut behind him.
We just happen to be great brothers…
Derek’s words continued to run through my mind, and a year ago, I would have wholeheartedly agreed. I’d been a great older brother. But now… I couldn’t help but wonder if that title still applied.
…
I was quickly packing up the last of my things, hoping to avoid a run-in with Miranda, when I heard her walk through the front door.
“Gabe?” she called out softly.
“Yeah?”
She heaved out a long, relieved sigh before speaking. “I was so happy to see your car outside. After your dad told me you were home, I knew this would be one of the first places—” She stopped suddenly as she rounded the corner. “What—what are you doing?” she choked out.
“Packing?” I turned to give her a look like she was crazy but stopped cold when I saw the tears in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“You’re le-leaving?” She hiccupped.
I dropped the arm I’d extended her way and stared at her in confusion before responding. “You do remember the conversation we had before I left, right? We broke up.”
“No, you broke up with me. Don’t make this sound mutual just to make yourself feel better.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Miranda, we both knew this thing was over,” I said gently. “It had been for a while.”
“Actually, no, I didn’t know that. I thought you just needed some time.”
“I was pretty clear about where things stood when I left.” Despite my growing frustration, I kept my voice soft and sincere.
“I know, but I just thought that was the grief talking. And, well, I kept speaking to your dad, and he made it seem like…” She trailed off and started wiping at her fallen tears.
“Miranda, you know you can’t trust a word out of his mouth.” I paused and looked around. “Is that why you didn’t trash all my stuff? I honestly wasn’t expecting it to still be here. It’s been six months.”
Some of her tears subsided, and anger marred her normally beautiful face. “Yeah, asshole. It’s been six months, and you didn’t contact me once. Yet I have your father telling me not to give up because you were still coming back for me. Look—” She paused to raise her left hand. “I’m still wearing it, and I still love you. I don’t care if you slept with half of Europe. As long as—”
“You should care, Miranda. You deserve better than that. Look, the only reason I told my dad I was coming back to the company and you was to get him off my back. I didn’t expect him to say anything to you and get your hopes up.” I sighed and started running my hands through my hair before giving her the sincerest look I could. “I’m truly sorry he gave you the impression I was coming back to you.”
“Gabe, your mother’s death—”
“Didn’t cause this,” I interrupted. “This was inevitable, and her death only showed me we were never going to work.” I stared hard at the only girl I’d ever loved, remembering all the fun we’d had. I zeroed in on her red-rimmed eyes and thought of all the times I was the one drying her tears instead of causing them. But I couldn’t regret this, because as hard as it was, it needed to happen. Pretending to still love her would be worse than breaking up with her.
“If we were truly meant to be, I would have wanted your comfort, but I didn’t. You would have been devastated at the idea of me sleeping with one girl, let alone half of Europe, but you’re not.” She winced, and I quickly added, “I still care about you. I always will. You were my best friend. But I think you know I’m right, and deep down, you even feel the same way. You’re just blinded by what we had and what our families expect of us.”
She regarded me sadly before coming closer. When she reached me, she placed a hand on my cheek, imploring me to look at her. “That’s not true. I love you, Gabe. I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was.”
I shook my head and stepped out of her reach. “You love the idea of us, nothing more.” She opened her mouth to dispute my claim, but I cut her off. “I got a job this morning, at a bar near campus.”
“What?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion at the abrupt change and disapproval of the words themselves.
I nodded before crossing my arms over my chest. “As a bartender. Can you still tell me you love me and will stand by me if I’m not in charge of some Fortune 500 company?”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s been a year, and I understand this is hard for you. But this little rebellion isn’t going to help matters. Your mother wouldn’t want you derailing your life. She wouldn’t want you to spend your life grieving hers. She would want you to live as you planned. She’d want you to become somebody. No one wants a son whose sole ambition in life is to be a bartender. That’s not a career, Gabe.” She immediately stopped when she saw my intense glare.
I huffed out a bitter laugh under my breath before shaking my head. “Yeah, but you still love me, right?” The sarcasm in my voice was about as subtle as a bomb. I continued packing my things until the last two boxes were full. The room was bare except for the empty dresser, dusty desk, and stripped bed.
“I’m not a bad person just because I want financial stability from the man I love,” she whispered as I stacked the boxes and bent to lift them.
“No, you’re not. But I don’t believe someone in love with me would basically call me a loser and tell me my mother would be embarrassed by me.” I straightened, sans boxes, and turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Do you?”
She had the decency to look ashamed when she responded, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Others might only hear it as an apology, but I heard the truth. I heard what she wasn’t saying: It’s the truth. I just wish I hadn’t said it.
“I’m not going back to my father’s company, and I’m not marrying you. And that’s never going to change. I’m not trying to be cruel by stating things so bluntly; it’s quite the opposite, actually. I want you to be able to move on from this. I don’t want to leave you with any kind of false hope.”
She nodded, but her eyes still showed determination. “Have you told your father any of this?”
“Not yet. I went by the house, but he was… preoccupied. I left before—” I cut myself off. “Wait. How’d he know I was home? I never told him my plans.”
“He saw you pulling away from the house.”
I nodded absentmindedly. “Right. Well, I’m going to tell him. I just wanted to have a job lined up first.”
Miranda gave me a sad smile. “You and I both know he’s not going to consider that any kind of plan.”
“I know. But I have to do something that’s for me. I can’t live my life for him. I won’t.” I picked up the boxes and moved toward the door. Miranda stepped out of my way, and even though the hope in her eyes wasn’t completely gone, it was a least dulled.
“I’ll still talk to you, right?” Her voice trembled with doubt even as her face was hopeful and pleading. I returned her sad smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek before whispering in her ear, “Goodbye, Miranda.”
Caleb finally went home last night, thereby ending the seventy-two-hour sex marathon and affording me my first restful sleep in three nights. It was just after ten in the morning, and I was setting the table by the time Naomi wandered out of her room. She yawned and scratched her head as she took in the waffles, fruit salad, sausage, toast, and coffee sitting on the table before gracelessly plopping into a chair.
“Are you conditioning me?”
“Whaa?” I asked around the handful of fruit I’d just thrown into my mouth.
“You know, conditioning me. Making me breakfast the day after Caleb leaves so I associate the two. Which will then make me want to throw Caleb out more often so I can have your delicious homemade breakfast, thereby giving you what you want, a Caleb-free apartment.” She’d just finished buttering her toast as she sat back and raised her eyebrows at me with a small grin on her face.
My jaw went slack as I stared at her before I gave way to my laughter. “Are you insane?” I picked up a grape and threw it at her head. “Is this a prelaw, I-must-question-everything thing or a you-need-medication thing?”
She snorted before she started laughing with me. “It was a joke thing, but yeah, prelaw definitely fucks with your trust. I bet in five years I won’t even trust my own stomach when it tells me I’m hungry.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“So, assuming you and my stomach are not plotting against me… what’s all this for?” She waved at the table as she started piling waffles on her plate.
I shifted nervously and twisted the dishrag in my hand before tossing it on the counter and joining her at the table. “I think maybe we should go out this weekend.” I tried to sound casual, but Naomi’s reaction was proof positive that I sounded anything but.
“Really?” she practically squealed.
“Yeah, well… that’s what normal people do, right?” I laughed, trying to make it a joke and play off my discomfort. But just like everything else, Naomi always heard what I wasn’t saying. She saw the insecurity and pain behind my jokes and the sadness behind my laughs.
“There’s no such thing as normal people.” She gave me a stern look until I nodded. “If you want to do something, do it. If you don’t, don’t.”
“Right, ‘cause that’s so simple.” She opened her mouth to argue
, but I cut her off. “You’re not wrong, okay? I hear what you’re saying. But there are things I want, and I think the only way to get them, unfortunately, is to do things I don’t necessarily want to do.”
Her lips curved into a mischievous and knowing smile. “Things?”
I rolled my eyes, at much as myself as at her. “Yes, things. I think… I might… sort of… want to start dating again.” I stopped to think about David, my first and only boyfriend. We’d dated for about nine months, starting at the end of our senior year of high school and breaking up on Valentine’s Day when we were freshman in college. It was far from ideal and made me realize just how complicated and difficult dating and depression were.
I gnawed on my lip as I thought about it. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe—
“I think it’s good.” Naomi paused as she reached over to squeeze my hand. “That you want to try, and for now, I think that’s all that matters.”
…
So that was how I found myself staring at a pile of halter tops, miniskirts, and an assortment of animal-print items from Naomi’s closet the next night. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She knew me well. She knew if she didn’t take me up on my offer to go out immediately, chances were I’d change my mind. And sure enough, I already had, just over thirty hours later. Me and my big mouth. My big, stupid, fat, stupid mouth.
My fingers absentmindedly skimmed over my scar as I stared at the clothes on Naomi’s bed. “This is ridiculous,” I mumbled just as she turned off her blow-dryer. And despite the blow-dryer and “Weapon for Saturday” blasting in the background, Naomi still heard me, which she made clear by her I heard that glare.
She plopped down on the floor in front of her closet mirror before declaring, “We need a girls’ night.”
I glared right back and started listing all the things I did in fact need, such as air, water, food, etc., and nowhere in there did “girls’ night” come up.
Unveiling The Sky Page 3
