She'd placed the last pint of beer on a tray and passed it to one of the waitresses, and then her eyes met mine.
"Thought you said the place was dead?" I said, looking over my shoulder at the crowd, then back to see her giving me a small smile. "Or did you just miss me?" I winked, then chuckled.
She was about to say something when I spotted Ben walking out from the back room carrying a case of beer. She didn't need to say any more. I could tell from the look on his face when his eyes landed on mine exactly what had been going on.
"What can I get for you?" she asked as Ben glared at me, slamming the case of bottles down on the back counter. He walked over and dropped a dish of peanuts in front of me.
"I'll have a soda," I said.
By the time Bailey had filled the glass and brought the soda over to me, Ben had returned to the back room.
"He giving you trouble again?"
She looked at me and nodded. "He has barely kept his hands to himself, despite being told a hundred times. I've put in a complaint, and I know he has been spoken to, which has only made it worse," she whispered for fear he may hear, which would be impossible over the loud music.
"You have a ride home?" I asked, glancing down at my watch.
"No, I loaned Mom my car tonight. Hers is in the shop. She had things to do. So she dropped me off. I was just going to take a cab."
I shook my head. "No need. I'll wait until you are finished."
"Jackson, no, that is two in the morning," she said, shaking her head.
I refused to hear it, so waiting was exactly what I did. I sat at the end of that bar until two in the morning, waiting and watching. When closing time hit, the music was shut off, and I watched as Ben escorted patrons out the front door. Once the bar was empty, he turned to me.
"Hey, buddy, it’s time to go."
"Yep, and as soon as Bailey is ready, we will be on our way."
Ben furrowed his brow and looked me over. "You can wait outside for her. Can't have people inside when we are closing up. Gotta count the money. Owner's rules," he said, approaching me and placing his hand on my shoulder.
I looked down at his hand and back up at him. "Trust me, I won't be a bother," I said, throwing another handful of nuts into my mouth and looking at Bailey as she stood by watching, the look of fear settling on her face.
Ben grabbed my arm and started to try to forcibly remove me from my seat. "Get your hands off of me."
"I'm not gonna ask you again. I said it’s time to go."
I stood up, extending to my full height and towering over him at six feet. I looked down into his face. "And I said I wouldn't be a bother," I responded, reaching behind me and pulling out my badge, flipping it open for him to see.
He released his hold on me immediately and straightened the wrinkles he had caused in my shirt. "I'm sorry. We will get this closed up shortly. As a matter of fact, Bailey, why don't you head home early, and I'll take care of everything," Hhe said ,running around behind the bar, taking over for her at the dishwashing station.
"We aren't supposed to close alone."
"It's fine. Go. I won't say anything to the owner."
I nodded to Bailey, who grabbed her purse and light jacket, and together we headed out the door and over to my car.
"Jackson, really, was that necessary?" she asked once we were in the car.
"Look, obviously, the guy was giving you the creeps or you wouldn't have called me."
"But I'm gonna get into trouble."
"No, you aren't. I'll talk to Dan and the owner if he gives you any trouble. They may be interested to know what his serving protocols are,” I said, referring to the actions I had witnessed between him and Bailey the other night. “Do up your belt."
She did as I asked without hesitation, and I pulled away from the curb, heading towards her mom's house.
The restof the week had flown by, and by Friday night the entire wedding party was seated at a long table in one of the event rooms of the hotel for the rehearsal dinner. I sat there lost in my own thoughts and memories, thinking about Bailey and me. I heard my name and realized the entire table was looking at me, waiting for a response.