by M. Ullrich
“I will, but, Lauren,” Amber said with an odd hesitance in her voice, “this will probably sound weird, but I’m happy you’re out tonight.”
Lauren heard the unspoken sentiment in Amber’s words. Lauren rarely ventured out and never on her own. Hating her home life had turned Lauren from an introvert to someone who stopped at a bar—alone. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Have fun, text me later.”
Lauren and Amber shared a quick goodbye and Lauren tucked her phone into her purse. She looked at Berit again and caught her staring in her direction. At first, Lauren was sure Berit was looking at another table, but the bartender held up an empty glass and pointed to Lauren. Lauren waved off the offer for another drink. Berit then waved from her to Lauren, offering herself next. Lauren laughed but declined that offer as well. Berit covered her heart with her hands and wore a pout so severe, Lauren could see her bottom lip glistening from across the bar.
Lauren acknowledged the truth: Berit was wildly attractive, seemingly kind, and even a little funny. The perfect woman to many, but just another heartache for a woman like Lauren. Lauren was reliant on mutual dependence and commitment. She loved being in monogamous relationships and preferred to spend most of her downtime curled up in one another watching television or making out. Even if she wanted to change, to become a different version of herself, she wasn’t interested in a casual hookup. She watched with rapt attention as Berit tossed a few liquor bottles around effortlessly, her thin arms flexing with every movement. Lauren snapped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.
She stood and nodded resolutely. Berit would serve as a wonderful fantasy and absolutely nothing more.
Chapter Five
“Daly!” Lauren’s boss, Samuel Baxter, barked at her for the fifth time in twenty minutes. She didn’t always mind working Saturdays, but when Baxter was in the office, she’d rather be on the receiving end of a root canal. “What the hell is this?”
Lauren looked from his alarmingly red face to the three folders in his hand and said, “The evidence log, witness list, and statement files you wanted me to prepare for the Langfeld case.”
“No, I asked Sally to prepare that. I told you to hit the road and interview our witnesses again. I need to make sure their statements are rock-solid before we step foot in court Monday morning. How dense are you? Were my instructions too complex for you to comprehend?”
Lauren clenched her jaw.
“If you leave now you should finish up before sundown. And don’t expect to be on the clock this entire time. I’m not paying you for more hours because you weren’t listening.” Mr. Baxter tugged at the collar of his starched shirt and stormed off in the direction of his office.
Lauren released a long breath and walked to her desk calmly. She wasn’t sure whether to be proud of herself for learning to handle the abuse or worried. When she had first started at the firm, she’d cried every time someone would raise their voice. Now, if Mr. Baxter’s blotchy skin, white hair, and red-rimmed eyes were any indication, she’d realized all the yelling and screaming was bad for your health. She picked up her phone and dialed the office’s one other female paralegal. Sally answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Sally, how are the statements coming?”
“I just finished up the last one, and I’m on my way back.”
“Mr. Baxter forgot who was doing what again. I just got an earful about having shit for brains,” Lauren said as she flipped aimlessly through another file.
Sally sighed heavily into the phone. “I did not go to law school for this.”
Lauren always felt for Sally. She’d made it to her final year in law school before she got pregnant. She tried to finish, but her pregnancy turned high-risk and she was forced to sit out for the remainder of the year. Sally’s doctor even warned her against minimal participation because heightened stress could hurt the baby. Sally said goodbye to law school then and hadn’t looked back since.
“Lauren?”
“Yeah?” Lauren shook herself back to the moment.
“I said I’m about to pull into the parking lot.” Their call disconnected abruptly and in under two minutes, Sally came rushing into the office. “It’s very warm today. The sun is brutal.”
“I’m ready to welcome summer with open arms,” Lauren said, spreading her arms as wide as she could. “Did you get everything we needed?”
“Yes, everyone’s stories were straight and as solid as they were on day one. I don’t think anyone’s bullshitting us this time around.” Sally pulled a legal pad and files from her leather briefcase. She flipped through a few yellow sheets before ripping two from the pad. She handed them to Lauren and said, “Ready to compare statements and write up some reports? Because I’m ready to get out of here.”
Lauren took the pages from Sally with a smile. “Have some big plans for your Saturday night?”
Sally waited to get her computer running before answering. “Stephen and I are going to that wedding I was telling you about. We’re spending the night at the hotel.”
“So you do have some wild plans,” Lauren said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“There will be alcohol and dancing.” Sally looked around the empty office and to Mr. Baxter’s closed office door before continuing in a loud whisper. “And lots and lots of sex. I fully expect to be walking bowlegged tomorrow.”
Lauren adored Sally and Stephen’s relationship. They had four kids, the oldest from Sally’s first marriage to her college boyfriend, and they had been married for eleven years. Their foundation was solid, and Lauren envied their unwavering connection. “Does Stephen know what he’s in for?”
“Oh yes, I’ve been texting him my most wicked ideas all day.” Sally’s eyes never left her computer as she typed feverishly. “What about you? Any plans?” The creaking of a door interrupted.
“I don’t remember agreeing to pay either of you to be social.” Mr. Baxter stood in the middle of the floor, blocking Lauren’s view of Sally. “And why are you still here?” he said, looking directly at Lauren.
“We’re finishing up with the witness statements. Sally—”
“They’ve all been interviewed again, and not one statement strayed from the original. Lauren is finishing up to make sure all of our i’s are dotted and t’s crossed. We thought it’d be best if we both worked on this because we’re sure you’d like to get out of here. It’s a beautiful day for golf.” Sally’s voice was steady and Lauren had to stifle a laugh at how well she brown-nosed.
“It is.” Mr. Baxter stared at Sally, then turned to Lauren suddenly. “If you don’t get your shit together soon and start acting more like Sally, I’ll have to find someone more like her to replace you.” He stormed off.
Lauren’s earlier amusement fell away along with the color from her face.
“Don’t listen to him, Lauren.”
Lauren shrugged off her coworker’s concern. “Of course. I’m just his punching bag of the week, right?” Lauren forced a fake smile and held it until Sally looked away. She could confide in Sally, but did Sally really need that kind of pity party in her life? She wouldn’t want Lauren as anything more than an office acquaintance.
Why did it seem like everyone in Lauren’s life was just waiting for someone better, prettier, and more talented to come along? Lauren’s employer treated her as replaceable as she really was, her ex-girlfriend tried on new relationships and kept coming back to Lauren when they didn’t feel right, and even Jorge preferred his deadbeat girlfriend as a roommate. Lauren was growing used to second and third place. She needed a moment, a brief second where she felt like more than nothing special. And dammit, Lauren could only think of one place where that’d happen. She could only hope Berit was working.
* * *
“All right, ladies,” Berit said, pointing to the bottle of premium vodka she balanced on her elbow. “If I spill even a drop of this, you all get your drink for free.”
“And if you don’t spill?” a very cute blonde asked. Berit smiled. She was a Sa
turday Happy Hour regular, but Berit had yet to get her name. “Do we still get something?” Berit only winked.
Berit tossed the bottle into the air and spun once before catching it and flipping it one more time. The bottle landed nozzle down into her mixing cup. The group looked simultaneously impressed and dismayed that not one bit of vodka was lost. “Looks like these won’t be on the house, but how does a round of shots sound?”
“Like a bad business move,” Berit heard a faintly familiar voice say from farther down the bar, but she kept her attention on the group in front of her.
“Do you all like chocolate cake?” Berit poured more vodka into a new mixing cup. She added hazelnut liquor and mixed it. She poured their drinks and spared a quick glance down the bar. Lauren was smiling at her. Berit finished up with the group, added their drinks to the tab, and collected her tips, trying to rein in her excitement at seeing Lauren again. This was the first time Lauren was seeking her out, a fact that made Berit very happy. She sauntered over to Lauren coolly while she wiped her hands on a dish towel.
“Welcome to Happy Hour at the Dollhouse. All mixed drinks are half price until nine.” Berit leaned forward onto the bar. “How are you?” she said, looking directly into Lauren’s stormy eyes. Lauren had looked troubled every time she’d seen her, and Berit wanted to know all about it. A natural trait of a bartender.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here so early,” Lauren said more to her hands than to Berit.
“I’m always here.”
Lauren looked up at Berit with a shy smile. “I’m starting to notice that.”
“What would you like to drink?”
Lauren knocked on the thick drink menu closest to her and said, “I want to try something new, and I don’t feel like looking through this. What do you recommend?”
Berit licked her lips and smirked. “A Kiss on the Lips.”
Lauren’s eyes went wide. “Berit, I’m—”
“It’s a frozen drink,” Berit said with a laugh. “Peach and mango, very summery.”
Lauren’s face twisted into a grimace and she apologized quietly. “I’m not really into frozen fruity drinks. What about something less flashy, like a mojito?”
“I could make you a mojito,” Berit said, pulling out a tall glass from behind the bar. “But you’re going to have to answer a question for me first.”
Lauren looked very, very skeptical before nodding.
“Are you a top, bottom, or switch, Lauren?”
Lauren’s mouth fell open and she stuttered before saying, “That’s none of your business.” The rosy tint of her cheeks was incredibly attractive. Berit remained silent as she waited for another answer from Lauren, but when one didn’t come, she dropped her playfulness and took on the role of professional bartender.
“We make mojitos three ways here: top, bottom, and switch. A top mojito is a classic lime and mint mojito, a bottom incorporates peach, and a switch mojito is made with raw sugar and golden rum. I like to ask and see if the flavor matches someone’s bedroom personality.” Berit tore a few mint leaves and put them in the bottom of the glass. She looked back at Lauren, whose eyes were fixed on the green leaves. She added freshly squeezed lime juice and asked, “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll try one of each, and I’ll start with a top.”
Berit nodded and started preparing the drink, but stopped when Lauren added to her order.
“Make me a bottom at the same time and give me a shot of your smoothest rum. I don’t like mixing alcohol, and I need to start with something strong.”
Berit frowned. She grew worried for Lauren but grabbed a shot glass nonetheless. She knew something was eating away at Lauren and had seen more than her share of mind-erasing benders, so Berit decided it was her duty to make sure Lauren was okay for the night. She poured the shot and slid it to Lauren. Lauren contemplated the small glass of rum as Berit muddled the mint and lime juice with a sprinkle of sugar. She finished the mojito and placed it next to the shot.
“You know what works better than a mojito and a shot when something’s bothering me?” Lauren looked at her with questioning eyes. “Talking about it.”
“Nothing to talk about,” Lauren said. She threw back the shot and slammed the glass on the counter, making a loud thud against the wooden surface. She started gulping her mojito immediately after.
Berit looked around and noticed a group waiting to be served. Lou had her hands full with a bachelorette party. “I have to go help them,” she said, pointing down the bar. “I’ll be back, and you are going to talk to me. Even if I have to take you home with me to get it out of you.” Berit felt a little better about leaving Lauren alone once she made her laugh.
Berit returned approximately twelve minutes later and found Lauren halfway through her second mojito, chewing on her straw angrily. Not a drop of mojito remained in the first glass. Berit raised her eyebrows. “Are you ready to talk?” She took Lauren’s glass from her.
“I’m ready to try a switch next. Maybe I should trying being a switch. I’m already a very active bottom.” She started on the next drink, Berit almost dropping the fresh glass. “Being a switch would probably scare women away, too,” Lauren said with a snort. “So what’s special about gold rum? Berit?”
Berit missed the question because she was still trying to figure out what Lauren meant by very active bottom. “I’m sorry, I was counting my pour. What’s your question?”
“What’s so special about gold rum?” Lauren’s cheeks were flushed, and her shoulders seemed more relaxed. Her rapid drinking was starting to catch up.
“Gold rum is aged in casks made of oak, giving the flavor more depth.” Berit muddled and mixed. “These are also known as dirty mojitos.”
“Why do I get the feeling everything is dirty with you, Berit?” After a second, Lauren’s eyes went wide, and she covered her face with her hands. Berit laughed. “That didn’t come out right.” Lauren shook her head. “Or maybe it did?”
“I know what you meant. I enjoy clever innuendo as much as the next person, but I do think sex is a great marketing tool for a bar.”
Lauren took a long sip of her new drink and grinned. “Speaking of, this is better than sex!”
“Since you’re on your way to being drunk, I refuse to believe you. But I will take the compliment.” Berit took in the sight of Lauren. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly with a clip and her white button-up shirt was wrinkled. “Now, are you ready to talk to me?”
Lauren rolled her straw between her lips while she considered Berit’s question. “I’m replaceable to everyone, and it sucks. I came here after work today because I was tired of being told how I’m not as good as someone else. Or worse, having someone better flaunted in front of me. I came looking for you because your awful pickup lines make me feel better.” Berit’s smile broadened with pride. “Even though I know you’re working for tips and you pay the same attention to every woman here, it still feels nice.”
Berit’s smile fell. “Lauren, I don’t treat every customer the same.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lauren said, reaching across the bar to place her hand on Berit’s bare forearm. “You get paid to mix drinks and listen to people complain about their lives, and you get paid more if you flirt with them…even the women like me.” Berit felt her heart drop, but before she could say any more, Lauren spoke again. “I bet your boss feels like they hit the jackpot with you, huh? Look at you—the tattoos and everything. What do you call yourself? Androgynous? Stud? Butch?”
Berit looked down at her black muscle tank and jeans and then back to Lauren. “I call myself Berit.”
“Well, whatever. You’ve probably brought in double the business since you were hired.”
Berit was growing uncomfortable with this topic Lauren continued to circle. She leaned forward with her elbows on the bar. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Berit said just loudly enough to be heard over the music and chatter in the bar. “I was never hired because I own
this place, I don’t flirt to make myself more money because all the tips I earn are split between the rest of my staff, and I don’t label my look because I don’t see myself as anything other than me.” She stood back and wiped her hands on her towel. “Would you like another drink?”
Lauren stared blankly before shaking her head. “No, I uh—I think I should get going, actually.” She stood unsteadily and took a credit card from her purse and handed it to Berit.
Berit stared at the thin plastic card before sliding it through the reader. Lauren Daly. She ripped the receipt and placed it down with a pen for Lauren to sign. Berit took the customer copy and scribbled on the back of it. “I never do this, and I hope you believe me,” she said, handing the slip over. “Use it any time, Lauren. I’ll be happy to listen. If you need a ride, let me know.”
Lauren held up her phone. “I already ordered a ride.”
“Promise me you won’t drive.”
“I won’t.” Lauren’s eyes appeared glassy, and Berit wondered if what she saw was awakening tears or the effects of alcohol. “I promise.” Lauren put her phone and receipt in her purse and walked to the door.
Berit blew out a long breath. Lauren Daly was a force she never saw coming, and one she doubted her readiness for. But whatever Berit’s next moves were, she hoped they included getting to know Lauren better.
Chapter Six
Lauren lay in bed for a long while the next morning. Her hangover was minimal, and so was her desire to move. She’d picked up and put down her receipt from the night before more times than she could count. On one side was a small charge of five dollars, and on the other side Berit had written her phone number. Each number was clear and legible; Berit’s handwriting was mostly sharp with a feminine lilt. Lauren noticed how Berit crossed her sevens, something you didn’t often see in America. Lauren shifted beneath her artificial down comforter. She slept in her panties and a camisole, the morning chill nipping at her skin where it was bare. She could get up and pull on sweats, but solving the temperature problem wasn’t nearly as important as solving the Berit problem.
