Fractured [SHAWN MENDES]

~36~

Shawn carried a keg of Molson's Golden from the walk-in fridge in the kitchen and placed it under the bar so that Tricia could teach him how to install the tap. After she walked him through the process, she made him fill a glass to make sure the pressure was right.

"You can either drink that or dump it," she told him.

He poured it into the drain that ran along the bar. "It's a little early for a beer."

"You'd be surprised how many people start their day with a drink, and I don't mean mimosas or bloody Marys." She pulled her phone out of her apron pocket. "Taryn just asked if you were here. She said you haven't replied to any of her texts today."

"My phone broke last night," he mumbled before going back into the kitchen for some lemons and limes.

An hour or so later, Patricia approached him. "I know folks your age are addicted to your phones. If you want to take an hour or two to replace your broken one, I can manage just fine. It's Sunday afternoon, and I doubt we'll have more than six customers at a time."

"That's ok. I can do it tomorrow."

"Suit yourself. Taryn told me to let you know that she's at the festival. She wanted to send you a picture of herself, but I guess she can show you when she gets back, or maybe she'll send it to me. Do you have a message you'd like me to relay to her?"

Several possible messages popped into his head, but he wouldn't even send them with his own phone, so obviously he wasn't going to share them with Tricia. If he let on that he was upset, she might starting hounding him to find out why, so he plastered a smile on his face and replied, "Just tell her to have fun."

At the end of the night, Shawn brought a stack of plates to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. He was clueless about how to run an industrial model, so Reagan stepped in to show him.

"When Patricia hired me, I had no idea I'd be working with Shawn Mendes," she said offhandedly. She'd known it was him before they'd been introduced but had played it cool. After two shifts together, it felt okay to bring his identity up.

"I'm at the bar a lot, but I don't work here. I'm covering for Taryn."

She laughed. "I know that, but I wonder if some of the customers think you've fallen on hard times and have to wait tables for a living."

"Possibly, but there'd be no shame in that if it were true."

"I agree! I'm the last person to judge that sort of thing. Maybe you don't care, but I'm not broadcasting to my friends that you're here. I imagine it could be problematic if word spread and your fans started showing up, even if it would be great for business," she told him.

It was pretty miraculous that he'd been able to hang out at the bar for over six months without it being publicized. Shawn wasn't sure what he'd do if people actually did flock to the bar to gawk at him. He'd probably have to stop coming in altogether.

A dark thought crossed through his mind; maybe he wouldn't be here much longer anyway, given that Taryn was potentially back with her ex. As much as he loved The Good Luck Lounge, he wasn't going to torture himself by showing up and seeing her. A better man might be able to return to just being friends, but he was in too deep to do that. Jesus...he'd miss her so fucking much if it came to that.