How We Deal With Gravity

by Ginger Scott

  “You sure Ray? I can stay, help out?” I offer, but Ray just pulls out his keys and tosses them to me.

  “Nah, this is nothing. Just another Thursday night!” he says, topping off a beer and going right in to fill the next one.

  I grip the keys in my right hand, nod thanks to him and turn around, but before I make it a full step, I slam into one of the waitresses. Trying to stop myself, I accidentally grab her tit with my free hand.

  “Ugh, asshole!” she pushes me to the side as she flies by and whips through the swinging door into the back. All I see is her long, straight, strawberry-blond hair as she disappears. I’m probably going to see this girl for the next few weeks, so I follow her back past Sal and Manny into the small locker room, chuckling a little and looking at my left hand with fondness.

  “Hey, wait…hey, I’m totally sorry. I really didn’t mean to grab…shit; I mean…I didn’t mean to do that. Damn, I’m sorry,” I say, lightly laughing and waiting for the girl to turn around.

  “Whatever,” she says, clearly unimpressed with me. She pulls one leg up to tie her shoe on the bench, and then tucks her hair behind her ear. I’m about to give up and go when I realize just how bad this is.

  “Birdie?” I say, my mouth moving toward a big grin. She tosses her head up when I say her name, and the fire in her green eyes pretty much knocks me on my fucking ass! This is not the Avery Abbot I knew in high school. I know I’m walking on thin ice, but I can’t help but let my eyes wander down from her soft face and pink lips to what might just be the tightest goddamned body I’ve ever seen. I can see every inch outlining her bra under the thin, white Dusty’s T-shirt; the black shorts hug her hips so well, I’m wishing like hell she’d turn around and drop something just so I could watch her pick it up.

  “Mason,” she says, forcing my gaze back up to her eyes. She isn’t smiling when she looks at me. Shit, I need to fix this. I can’t have Ray’s daughter this pissed at me.

  “I’m so sorry, Birdie. I wasn’t looking, and I totally didn’t know that was you,” I say, trying to make my tongue work in my mouth, while I search for something else to add, something smart. I’ve got nothing, so instead I just lean to the side and watch her push past me again. I breathe deeply when she walks by, and the girl actually smells like vanilla—like a fucking dessert!

  I stumble back out to the bar and look at the keys in my hand, then back up to Avery as she ties the green apron around her tiny waist and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. She always wore her hair like that, but I don’t know—it’s somehow very different now. The tiny freckles on her neck have me in a bit of a trance when Ray bumps into me.

  “You headin’ out?” he asks. I feel the teeth of the keys against my fingers. There’s no way I’m leaving, no matter how bad of an idea it is to flirt with Ray’s daughter. I know the line, but I won’t be able to get my mind straight if I don’t just straddle it a little tonight—get inside her head.

  “In a bit. Let me just help out for a while, so I know you’ve got this handled. It’d make me feel better since you’re putting me up and all,” I smile at him, and hand him back his keys.

  “Alright then, you can start mixing,” he says, pushing the keys in his pocket and going back to work. I pull a ticket and start mixing on the other end of the bar, but I keep my attention divided on Avery the entire time, just waiting for her to come over. She keeps heading to the corner of the restaurant area—probably to avoid me.

  She’s almost in front of me when she locks onto my gaze, and spins around on her heels toward her dad. I’m not gonna lie, I take a good look when she leans over the bar to talk to Ray, and I’m half-tempted to race around to the other side of the bar to check out the view from behind. But something she says catches me off guard.

  “Dad, you know he can’t stay with us! Max isn’t going to like it,” she protests, crossing her arms. Her dad waves his hand telling her to calm down, and she spins around and walks back to the corner. Who the hell is in that corner? And who’s Max? Shit, is she married?

  Avery doesn’t return to this side of the bar for the next 20 minutes. I saw her hand her orders to another waitress to bring them over a few times, and she actually had her dad bring out some of the plates, just to avoid passing by me on her way to the kitchen. What the hell? It was just a boob grab, and it was a damned accident. If this girl was going to get that bent out of shape, then I don’t need to waste my time with fantasies.

  “Pain in the ass,” I mumble under my breath, focusing once again on the drink orders.

  “Hey, Cole. That’s Mason, go on in and relieve him,” Ray hollers, nodding in my direction. A big burly dude heads my way, pushing the sleeves up on his one-size-too-small black shirt. He must be the new bouncer. Hell, he’s big—with my luck, he’s Avery’s husband, or boyfriend or…whatever.

  “Hey, man. Mason, nice to meet you,” I reach over to shake his hand, hoping like hell he doesn’t crush my fingers.

  “Oh yeah, you, too. It’s funny, I feel kinda like I know you, the way Ray talks about you around here,” he smiles, shaking my hand and holding back—thank God!—then taking over on the next drink order. I’m a little surprised by his words, though I don’t know why. I know how Ray feels about me—like I’m his own son. There’s just something about hearing someone else say it.

  The crowds are getting thick now, getting ready for the headliner. Back when I was in high school, Ray started pushing Thursday nights, and when I turned eighteen, I was one of his first performers. He fought like hell with the town council over his liquor license requirements when he put me on stage. But Ray’s got a lot of friends in high places in Cave Creek.

  I can’t help but look over at Avery’s corner a few more times before I leave. Maybe it’s the challenge, but I just want her to give in once, to come over here before I leave. That way, I can ask her what crawled up her ass and why she cares if I stay at Ray’s house. Or maybe not, maybe she’ll just motivate me to hit the road sooner.

  “You know her?” Cole says, leaning into me.

  “What, Avery? Yeah…we went to high school together. She hung around the bar a lot when I was here, too,” I say, my eyes glued to her like a stupid tracking beam. I’m so weak.

  Cole bends down to get something out of the mini fridge, and comes up with a small glass of chocolate milk. He puts it on a tray with a napkin and two straws and pushes it toward me.

  “Thanks, man, but I’m not thirsty,” I laugh. Does he seriously think I’m lame enough to offer to split chocolate milk with some girl? I could go down the street right now to the next bar, and leave a half hour later with three chicks ready to ride me until I kick them out in the morning—and they wouldn’t care that I didn’t know their names. They never do.

  Cole nudges me again and nods back in Avery’s direction. “Nah, man. It’s her order. Take it,” he winks.

  Well, damn. I’ve been waiting for an in all night, and now that I’ve got one, my hands have turned to jelly, and my heart rate is keeping time with the band—pulsing out of my head.

  Cole nods one more time, so I take the tray in my hand and head to the back corner. Only, when I get there, Avery is gone. I roll my eyes at my own luck, and head to the corner booth. There’s a kid with curly blond hair sitting in the farthest corner. He looks about five, and his legs are pulled up underneath him, his attention completely focused on the iPad in front of him. Looks like some sort of space game or something.

  “Whatcha playin’ there, buddy?” I ask, but the kid doesn’t break his concentration. He just keeps playing his game, like he didn’t even hear me. Maybe he didn’t.

  “One chocolate milk,” I say, putting the napkin down and then placing the glass on top. I wait for a few seconds, but he doesn’t say anything. I was never a video-game nerd—I just don’t get the appeal. I roll my eyes, and start to turn when a strange voice stops me.

  “Straws,” he says, the one syllable word somehow sounding as if it has two or three, the way he pronounces eve
ry individual letter.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure,” I say, pulling one off the tray and tossing it next to his glass.

  “No,” he says, before I can leave. “That’s not right. That’s not right. That’s not right. Two straws. Two straws. Two straws.”

  I look back at the tray, notice the second straw, and immediately put it down by the other one. His eyes are wide, but still focused solely on his video game. I wait for a few seconds, and he finally puts the tablet down, his fingers very methodical as they place it perfectly in line with the rest of the table. He then reaches for his glass, and moves it closer, looking into the milk a few solid seconds like he’s inspecting it, before reaching for the straws and unwrapping them slowly. He puts them both in at the same time. Sipping long and deep through them both together, his eyes focus on the small bubbles in the milk, oblivious to the clanking of glasses and loud noise of the crowd of two hundred or so people building just a few yards away from him.

  “So…anything else?” I ask, wondering if this kid even realizes I’m still here. He doesn’t say a word, and he doesn’t stop drinking. I’m background to him—irrelevant.

  “Okay, then…” I say, shaking my head and blinking as I turn to walk away. “Weird fucking kid.”

  “Hey!” Avery says, charging closer to me. “What’d you give him? Leave him the hell alone!”

  She’s almost to me, looking past me, when I reach out and grab her wrist. “Hey, calm down. I just delivered your order. Relax, would ya? Cole gave it to me,” I explain, suddenly wishing I just went to Ray’s an hour ago, like he told me to, instead of acting stupid over a pretty girl.

  Avery’s posture slumps, and she lets out a heavy breath. She snaps her eyes to my hand, which is still on her wrist, and then quickly shirks it away. I’m almost offended, but she doesn’t give me time before she’s grilling me. “You’re sure? Cole gave that to you? He made it?” she says, almost manic.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can remember simple things like who gave me milk,” I shrug.

  She brings her hands to her face, rubbing her temples, and I take a minute to scope out her left hand. No ring. Damn, she’s been nothing but a big pain in my ass, and I’m still making sure she’s not married. What the hell is wrong with me? Suddenly, she stops, and her eyes soften when they land on mine, and then she actually smiles. Oh hell, that’s some smile.

  “Thank you,” she says, leaving her gaze on me long enough for me to memorize every fleck of gold within the green of her eyes.

  “No problem. Least I can do. That kid’s a real weirdo,” I say, tilting my head in his direction. Without warning, her smile is gone, and her hand hits my cheek with such force, I fear I may have actually swallowed a tooth.

  “What the fu—” I’m about to question her, but it’s too late. She’s gone. I don’t even know which direction she walked, so I just rub my face and make my way back to Cole, no longer sure if I want to thank him or punch him.

  “What the hell? I give that kid milk, and she slaps me,” I say to him as I reach into the ice bin and fill the center of one of Ray’s towels. “Shit! That stings! I think I have a shiner.”

  Cole chuckles a little to himself, and starts shaking a martini. “Sorry, man. I really was trying to help you out. I didn’t see how that could go wrong,” he looks back at the corner where Avery is standing once again. I’m thinking about walking over to her and calling her on her bullshit, but then she slides into the booth and points to something on the kid’s iPad.

  “That’s her son,” Cole says—short and sweet. Fuck, I’m an asshole.

  My face must clue him in at how shocked I am, so he turns around and leans on the back of the bar to give me his full attention for a few minutes.

  “I thought she wasn’t married? Is she divorced?” I ask, moving the ice a little lower and wincing.

  “Something like that. The dude married her, and then bailed right away. Some guy from your high school, I think. Some Adam or something?” Cole says, and I know immediately.

  “Adam Price. He was our student body president. He and Avery were into all that honors class shit,” I say, remembering what a smug asshole Adam was back then.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Adam. He left when Max was one. Ave’s been doing a damn good job with that kid on her own, though,” Cole says, turning back to his work, and not realizing how much he’s kicking my ass with every single word. Shit! I just mocked the kid of a hard-working single mom because he didn’t thank me for bringing him chocolate milk.

  “Oh, this is bad. I should apologize. I was kind of a prick to her,” I say, looking over at the booth where she’s sitting next to her son, my stomach turning over and over with guilt and shame. Who the hell am I? I’m just some loser musician who got dropped from his label, thrown out of a club in Tulsa for drinking too much, and sent home to lick his wounds.

  “She’ll get over it,” Cole says.

  He says that now, but I think if Cole knew half the shit I’ve done, he’d take it back. In fact, he’d probably have a good long talk with Avery warning her to stay away from men like me. And he’d be right.

  Chapter 2: People Don’t Change

  Avery

  “Claire, it’s been an hour. When are you going to get here?” I ask, hiding in the back locker room, away from those damn stalker-eyes of Mason’s. I feel like he’s watching everything I do, just waiting to judge me or laugh at me. I swear, all it took was him calling me Birdie to make me feel seventeen again. I had to check the mirror to make sure my braces were, in fact, gone.

  “I’m pulling in the lot. I just need to find a spot, okay? What’s the big deal anyhow? You’ve brought Max in before. Your dad doesn’t mind, and Max is always good at Dusty’s,” she says. I can hear her keys jingle, followed by the beeping of her door, and I’m immediately filled with relief that she’s here.

  “Just meet me around back,” I say, sprinting through the kitchen, hoping not to get stopped. I make it to the back door, and prop it open with my foot to let Claire in.

  “Okay, I see the door. Be there in a sec,” she hangs up, and a few seconds later I feel her pull the door completely open.

  “Hey, Manny. Hey, Sal!” she says, walking over to hug the guys. Claire works at Dusty’s, too, but she’s usually on the morning and early afternoon shift and doesn’t get to see the guys much. I don’t know how I’d survive without my best friend. She works all morning, and then spends the evening with Max so I can get a few shifts in during the week. She’s gone through a lot of training, and she’s amazing with Max. She’s the one who finally got him to put his own socks on—in under a minute.

  Max has a hard time focusing on things he doesn’t want to do. In fact, lately, unless it has to do with the moon or the stars or how the earth rotates, it doesn’t have a place in Max’s world. But Claire’s managed to find ways around the distractions.

  Basically, we bribe him. And I used to cringe at it—felt like I was treating my son like a puppy. But Claire has taught me that it’s really just human nature to work toward goals, to seek rewards. So when Max does something I want, or something Grandpa wants, he gets something he wants—simple.

  My pockets are always full of tart candies. Max likes sour things. But he can’t eat certain foods, and most candy upsets his stomach. There’s only one store in Cave Creek that sells the gluten-free tarts, and if they ever discontinue them, I will throw a one-woman protest of epic proportions.

  “Okay, so where’s Max? And what the hell has you so worked up?” Claire says, pushing her purse back up her shoulder and leaning on the prep table in the kitchen.

  “Remember Mason Street?” I say, my mouth watering with the need to vomit just saying his name.

  “Ave, the whole state remembers Mason Street. Wait, is he…here?” she’s already bolting for the swinging door and cracking it open. I love Claire to death, but subtlety is not one of her strong points. “Where is he? What does he look like in person? Is he still hot?”

  “Claire, we�
��ve known him since grade school. You know what he looks like,” I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, but that was before he went on tour with a band. Did they hit it big? Is that why he’s here? Is there a concert somewhere? Can he get us tickets?” Suddenly, my friend has gone full-groupie.

  “No, Claire. He didn’t hit it big. He’s a loser, and my dad’s taking him in,” oh god, I was going to regret saying that. She backs away from the door and flashes that mischievous smile she’s famous for—the one that’s been getting me grounded since fifth grade.

  “Mason Street is sleeping…at your house?” she says, her eyebrows bobbing up and down just to annoy me.

  I sigh heavily and sit down on the small step stool behind the door, folding my hands around my face and leaning forward. “Yes, Claire. Mason Street is sleeping at my house. At least, until I can get him to leave,” I say, standing back up and forcing myself to have a little backbone.

  “Why would you make him leave, Avery?” she’s already pulling out her compact to check her makeup and touch up her lipstick. I can’t believe how predictable she is.

  “You know Max won’t like it, Claire. And because, frankly, I think he’s a goddamned selfish asshole!” I say.

  Claire just lowers her brow and studies me before answering. “You’re not being fair, you know. You still think Mason Street is the same guy he was at eighteen. But if you think about it, Ave, you’re nothing like the Avery Abbot of Cave Creek High School,” she says, sneaking a look back through the crack in the door.

  Claire’s partly right—I’m nowhere near the girl I was at eighteen. That girl was hopeful and innocent. That girl didn’t have a little boy who depended on her for everything—a little boy who she wasn’t sure would be able to survive kindergarten, let alone this world. And that girl had fantasies about getting married—in a church, with a big puffy dress, and violins playing from a balcony—to a man who would help her raise their three kids and live happily ever after.