“I thought you’d take some time off.” His tone is softer than I’ve ever heard and he suddenly looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to remind me of my dad’s death, as if I might have forgotten about it, when the funeral was only yesterday.
“Nope. I’m good,” I say.
“Are you sure? Do you need anything?”
“All good. Thanks, though, Rusty.” I round the corner and put my bag in one of the narrow employee lockers in the hall.
The last thing I’d want to do is take time off. Aside from the fact that sitting around my apartment would drive me insane, I can’t afford to miss work. During the day, I do virtual assistant work for several different clients, and based on past experience, I expect the demand for that work to slow to a trickle over the holidays.
At night, I work at Rusty’s. A dive bar is not the type of place people come to celebrate the season. We may get a little busier as people come in looking to avoid their holiday visitors, but in the meantime, I’m aiming to put away extra tip money to get me through the season.
In the restroom, Becca’s applying lipstick at the mirror. “Caz! How are you?” She caps the tube and turns her full attention to me.
“I’m fine. Thanks for texting last night.” As her eyes narrow and she searches my face, I repeat, “I’m fine. Really.”
I wasn’t all that fine when she checked in on me last night, but I’m better now that I’m here and have something to keep me occupied. Despite its rough appearance, Rusty’s is one of the island’s hot spots, and my waitressing shifts always pass quickly.
“I could’ve come over, you know. I was really worried about you when you left the service so abruptly.”
I frown. It wasn’t my intention to make her worry. “I’m sorry. I really am fine. My dad and I weren’t that close.”
Her features curve down into a sympathetic frown. “Still… he was your dad.”
I can’t bear the pity in her eyes, so I face my reflection and run my fingers through the loose waves of my dark, shoulder-length hair. I’m not really one for lipstick, but I consider myself a master of the smoky eye, and I lean in to check for smudges.
“Think we’ll be busy tonight?” I ask, to change the subject.
“Just the usual weeknight, I suppose.” She sighs as she adjusts her black tank top and smooths it down over her stomach. “I miss summer and all of those cute guys here on vacation.”
“Me too,” I say, though I haven’t given them a thought since summer ended. I didn’t enjoy the out-of-towners quite as much as Becca did, but I had a couple of fun hookups during the busy season. “Ready?” I ask.
When she nods, we exit together and make our way out to the main room, where the lights are dim and country music is playing from the speakers. Christine is already behind the bar and when she sees us approaching, I brace myself for another dose of pity.
To my relief, she just lifts her chin in greeting. “Good to see you, Caz. Becca.”
We fall into our usual routines. Becca wipes down the tables and I cut fruit for drink garnishes. There’s something pleasing about cutting lemons and limes into uniform wedges, and sometimes, when I fill the containers with maraschino cherries and olives, I like to imagine they’re small planets from faraway universes. I guess my mind goes to strange places like that because I read a lot of sci-fi stories.
Customers are starting to come in. People stopping after work. Regulars who will spend the evening here until they’re told they need to leave. Later, we’ll get more of the people who come in looking to pick up someone for the night.
Time passes quickly as I weave through the growing crowd, taking and filling drink orders, until I’m next to Becca at the bar and it all comes to a screeching halt.
“Might be my lucky night,” she says, with a tilt of her head. “Four-top in the corner. Four absolute hotties. Not from around here.”
My stomach drops before I even look. A quick glance confirms my suspicion.
Fuck!
What are the odds that they’d just happen to come here, when they’re supposed to be comforting their grieving mother?
And double fuck! I’m not going to be able to duck and run like I did yesterday. Rusty might not have expected me to work tonight, but now that I’m here, I can’t just walk out.
I look toward their table again. All four of them are scanning the room, the same way Barrett or Bronson was doing at the funeral. They’re not casually taking in their surroundings; they’re looking for someone, and odds are good that someone is me.
Wow, they’ve changed so much.
“Caz?”
Based on the concerned look on Becca’s face, I must have gone white, or maybe red.