Marcus reached across the table and grabbed Caleb’s hand when it balled into a fist, knuckles bleached, and put out his cigarette on the edge of the table. He reached his other hand out and lifted Caleb’s chin, his soft thumb running along Caleb’s cheek as a tear trailed down his face. Caleb’s heart began pounding in his chest as an unfamiliar warmth spread from his cheeks down into his belly, curling low inside his abdomen and shooting back into his ears. What was Marcus doing?
Marcus’s smile had faded, but the look on his face wasn’t one of pity or discomfort. He almost looked sad. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Marcus said softly. “I know that kind of loss can be hard. I was a mess when my grandmother passed away. If you want to take a longer break and need to talk, we can go to my office.”
Caleb bit the inside of his lower lip, his teeth nestling into the groove that had developed there, his heart pounding in his ears. What was this guy asking of him? “I—” The words were already coming out again, as if he couldn’t stop himself from accepting the invitation, while the small voice in the back of his mind desperately tried to hit the brakes on the runaway train that was his mouth.
Ophelia’s cold, high-pitched voice pulled the brakes for him from the doorway. “The fuck he will. I need him at the bar,” she said, her clear and red drink in hand, having been replenished.
Marcus held Caleb’s gaze for a moment longer before pulling his hands back and turning toward her, rolling his eyes as he did. “Child, what have I said about that language?” he said, brushing the cigarette ash from the edge of the table. Caleb saw something flash across his face—a look of irritation—but it lasted less than a second. “For such a smart young lady, you really need to expand your vocabulary.”
It was Ophelia’s turn to look irritated, mouthing the words along with him as he said them as though she had heard them a hundred times before. “I need the newbie at the bar,” she said, gesturing toward Caleb. “If you’re that concerned about my language, I’ll read a thesaurus to you when you’re getting ready to go to bed in the morning.”
Caleb swallowed hard, forcing the thickness in his throat down as he stood. “Yeah, I should get back to work,” he murmured, grabbing the crumbled water bottle from the table to take to the trash bin by the door. He felt Marcus’s smooth, cool hand on his wrist, beckoning him to look back at the man. His stomach fluttered again as Marcus reached out and adjusted his tie, the scent of the cigarette lingering on his hands and tickling Caleb’s nostrils. Usually, he hated the smell of cigarettes, but there was something soothing about the smell now, mixed with the scent of cologne and cookies.
“I mean it, Caleb. If you ever need to talk,” Marcus said as he took a step back, “my office door is always open.”
Caleb nodded, tossing the crumpled bottle into the trash. Part of him wanted to take Marcus up on the offer, go up to the secluded office, and just let loose everything he had been stuffing down for four and a half years. Part of it sounded nice—a long, ugly cry that he had denied himself, even in the six weeks he had been alone. But then again, that thought was more terrifying to him than trying to decipher whatever his new boss’s intentions were.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, not wanting to meet Ophelia’s caustic gaze, and motioned with his chin toward the hallway. Ophelia moved quickly, taking long strides as she walked back toward through the winding hallway that led back to her bar.
“Sorry for interrupting your little heart-to-heart with my dad, but I have a crowd three bodies thick and I am ready to commit a crime,” she said without looking back at him.
“What?!” Caleb blurted, stopping in his tracks. Her dad?
She stopped as well, turning around to face him. Instead of the usual bored look on her face, there was that gleam again, something mischievous lurking beneath the surface. “Yeah, that’s my dad. That little fucker Andrew didn’t mention that?”
Caleb could literally feel the dumb look on his face, but his mind raced to connect the dots. “You guys don’t… um… look alike?” was the only thing he could think to say in that moment, realizing how insensitive it sounded as it came out of his mouth. God dammit, can I shove my foot any further into my mouth today? He averted his gaze, waiting for her to go off on him like he had seen her do to pushy customers throughout the night.
Instead, she laughed, the sound so sudden it made him jump. “No shit, Sherlock. Have you looked at me? I’m black, he’s pretty Asian last time I checked. I’m adopted.” She waved at him to follow her as she began walking again, slower than before, stuffing her free hand into her back pocket. “Why else did you think I’m allowed to work here?”
“I was wondering about that,” he said, trailing a few steps behind her so he could force himself to relax. At least she didn’t seem offended by his comment.
“You’re not going to go running to the Department of Labor or anything, are you?” she asked, her voice sounding amused. The ice in her glass clinked as she walked. “You don’t look like a narc, so I’ll assume you can be trusted with that little secret.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent.
“We do things a little different here, so being able to keep a secret is priority number one,” she continued. “And if you can’t keep a secret, then you’ll end up buried under a shelf in the wine cellar like all the other idiots who threw away a good job by running their mouths to their friends.”
Yeesh. He grimaced as they neared the back entry to her bar. The thrum of the bass, music growing louder, and the sound of voices in indistinguishable conversation grew louder. That was a dark thing to kid about with him on his first day. Wait, is she kidding? He wondered for a second before dismissing the thought. Of course she was.
She turned the corner first, and Caleb heard her mutter a string of curse words. “I hate when you do that!”
He joined her around the corner, feeling another dumb expression pop onto his face as he watched Ophelia shove her half-empty drink at Marcus. He was laughing as he took the drink from her with one hand, reaching out and ruffling her brass-colored hair with the other, pure delight on his face.
“What the fuck, Marcus?” she groaned, shoving his hand away and stomping toward the swinging doors. “I don’t have time for your stunts tonight. These people are animals.”
Caleb inadvertently locked eyes with his boss again, feeling frozen in place, and for a moment the loud sounds coming from the club faded, leaving only the faint ringing in his ears that had taken up residence after the accident. In the sea of his overstimulation, all the new people, new sounds, and new information, locking eyes with Marcus gave him a sense of calm. A focal point. He knew he shouldn’t even entertain the notion of what he could at least admit to himself was a growing crush, but the fleeting moments he’d had with Marcus made him feel something beyond grief. His lips twitched, a smile pulling at the scar tissue on his face, but for once, he didn’t care.
“Caleb, let’s go!” Ophelia grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the door.
“Good luck,” Marcus said, not breaking eye contact as he took a sip from his daughter’s drink. Caleb could hear him yelling as the doors swung shut behind him. “Is there alcohol in this?!”