“I didn’t call you. You’ve come into my space uninvited, and this is done.”
Her head whips back as though I slapped her. “What? But you . . . What the hell, Drew!” she shouts in her high-pitched screech.
My ears sting from the sound, and I lose my patience. “We are not in a relationship. You work for me. That’s it. It will never be more.”
Her eyes go round as it sinks in. As she pulls her dress back up, her lips begin to quiver. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I can’t handle a crying girl.
“Why? Wasn’t I good enough?”
“You work for me.”
“And if I didn’t?” She looks at me, hopeful. As much as she drives me crazy, she’s my best bartender. I can’t afford to lose her.
There’s the million-dollar question. What do I say to make this end? “Monica, I’m sorry. I’m just not that into you.” There, I said it. Dick move quoting a movie, but fuck it. It works like a charm.
She rushes of out the room, slamming the door behind her.
That went well.
The truth is, I feel horrible.
If I had known I was going to hire her, I wouldn’t have touched her.
I really am the asshole she thinks I am.
2
Bailey
I wake with a start. My body thrusts forward from my bed as sweat beads at my temples.
What time is it?
Groaning, I turn my head until my eyes find the alarm clock.
3:00 a.m.
Of course, it is. This is how my nights go.
Dream of the past, then wake in a state of panic. Fall back into a deep sleep and miss the alarm.
My arm starts to hurt at the thought. A phantom pain. A scar to remind me.
I look down at the now faded mark.
Most people can’t tell it’s there anymore, but I know, and it does its job every time I look at it.
It holds me responsible.
It holds me prisoner.
The pain, normally a dull reminder, has intensified ever since I went behind my sister’s back to get a job at a nightclub. I have no business working there, but I don’t have a choice. I had just received my third eviction notice, and my sister’s boyfriend, Cal, was my last hope.
My only stipulation was Harper can’t find out I work there.
Ever.
Given my past, she’d be livid that I’m even contemplating working in a bar.
I kick my legs over the side of the bed and pad across the hardwood floors to my small kitchen. Grabbing the Oreos and a glass of milk, I take a seat at the kitchen island. Oreos were always my dad’s method of problem-solving. When he had to work out something in his head, he grabbed the cookies and milk and got busy thinking.
My eyes catch on the frame that’s home to my favorite picture ever. It’s of Harper, Dad, and me in front of Coney Island. He’d ditched half a day of work to take us for a spur-of-the-moment trip to the amusement park.
I stare at the picture. So much has changed, but some things remain.
I miss him.
Since his death, trouble has followed me. It’s my shadow. I’m basically a cosmic tragedy. But that was before.
I’m clean now.
No pills in two years.
This time will be different. It has to be.
I dunk one more cookie into the milk, saturating it until it practically falls off my spoon.
Shoving it into my mouth, I stuff down all thoughts of my losses.
Just because I’m working at a bar doesn’t mean I’ll have the desire to take a pill.
My pain is gone.
But are your memories . . .
Club Silver.
I’m here even though everything inside me screams to stay away. Perhaps it’s the sheer creepiness of the place, but more likely, it’s the angel on my shoulder trying desperately to win out over the devil on the other. Those two have been at war since my dad died. The devil’s tallies are far greater.
Silver isn’t much to look at from the outside of the building, just a typical New York City warehouse. The concrete slabs with no windows serve to make it completely frightening. It’s dark and utterly ominous on the outside, but it’s the inside that’s home to the proverbial monsters in my closet. The depths of this carnivorous building hold a whole different world of problems for me. Problems that I’ve promised myself will stay buried in the past.
I have no choice. I’m all out of options.
My phone rings and I groan when I see it’s my sister. The universe seriously hates me.
It’s like the woman has ESP or something. I shouldn’t answer, but I know Harper. She’ll keep calling until I do.
“Hey, Harp. What’s up?” I try my best at playing nonchalant when inside I’m quaking. I need to be inside starting my job, but I can’t tell her that.
“Nothing. Just headed out to meet Cal in SoHo. There’s some property he’s interested in, and then he’s taking me to dinner.”
“That’s fun. I’m headed out too,” I lie, hoping she doesn’t expect me to give her a play-by-play. I have less than five minutes.
“Where to and with who?” she badgers.
Harper means well, but I don’t exactly have the best track record, and she’s made it her personal mission to keep me on the straight and narrow.
“I have to grab some groceries and run some errands. Nothing much, but I’m catching a ride with a woman from work, and she’s waiting on me.”
“Hmm,” she says, clearly concerned about this stranger she’s yet to vet.
“Don’t hmm me, Harper. She’s doing me a favor.”
I’m annoyed that I have to fabricate a story. The lies just keep adding up, and I hate it, but I’d hate to disappoint her more.
“Okay.” She sighs. “Will you call me when you get home? I want to catch up.”
Inhale. Exhale. Lie some more.
“I have a really busy day tomorrow. Can we catch up after work?” I grind my teeth, hoping she’ll just go with it for once.
“Ah, all right. Tomorrow works,” she assents. “I love you, Bae.”
“I love you too, sis.”
I disconnect and run my palms down my face, feeling extra shitty for all the deceit even though I know it can’t be helped. I’ve learned over the years to simply keep Harper ignorant to certain aspects about my life because she just doesn’t get it.
Running a hand through my brown locks, I decide it’s time to move. I breathe in deeply, counting slowly to ten, and allow each breath I inhale to calm my fragile nerves. With tentative steps, I make my way inside. To think that, in a few short minutes, this barren building will become my lifeline—or my demise.
I stop in my tracks and shake my head. I can’t think that way. If I get myself keyed up before I make it in the door, I’m done for. I shake it all off literally and figuratively. If anyone is watching me, they’ll think I’m tripping. After one more deep breath, I begin to walk again.
With all my strength, I push open the heavy metal door. It screeches across the floor as I walk over the threshold. My eyes dart around the room and goose bumps break out on my skin. The familiarity is unnerving. I already feel myself falling back on old habits as I locate the bar.
I’m waiting for the itch to begin.