Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Six

I've worked with celebrities before, represented them and for that, I know what it's like to be surrounded by security. I always wondered how they handled being watched every day, every second. Now, I know and it really sucks. Every time he looks down at his phone I think he's texting Norman what I'm doing, what I'm ordering, what I'm saying to the bartender.

"You okay?"

I look up from the counter, and the bartender is cleaning a glass in front of me, a small smirk of amusement, mixed with a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I will be," I say, an obligatory normal answer.

"Bartenders are great therapists," he says, grinning slowly.

"Life's just crazy. It's really just fucking crazy," I mutter aloud, dragging a hand through my hair. My eyes move throughout the room, at the couples, and groups of friends having fun on a night off. Which makes me think about the fact that Giovanni's here in the city, at home, and I'm out, away from him.

What is wrong with me? Why am I so angry? Why can't I just let him sacrifice what he wants to for me?

"That it is," he responds to me, catching my attention again. "What do you do? Work-related trouble?"

I shake my head. "I own a PR firm."

"Damn, big leagues. Is it successful?"

"We just franchised."

"Again, damn."

I chuckle, exhausted in every way.

"I just separated from my wife," he confesses, nonchalantly. "The marriage has been dead for some time, but turns out she wants full custody of my daughter."

Instead of becoming awkward at his candidness, I relish the fact of diving into someone else's brain for a bit.

"You want partial?"

"Yes, that's what I thought was going to happen. But, she didn't want the divorce, so she wants to punish me in other ways."

"That's harsh. Do you have a girlfriend she doesn't like or something? What grounds does she have to deny you from seeing her?"

"A fucked-up childhood, that spurred bad decisions." He shrugs, trying to conceal how difficult that is to even say, and it's like looking in the mirror. I nod, slowly, and remove the paper covering the top of the straw.

"Fight it," I say.

"It's a lot of money. The lawyers..."

"Find the money. Do whatever you have to. Even if you lose, your daughter will know you fought for her. That will mean something, someday."

He nods eventually, still drying the glass that is definitely dry.

"You're right. I probably should have just stayed in the marriage. I don't know how to do any of this, you know? My parents were really messed up and I think I just carried on their commitment problems into my own life. Maybe she's better with her mother."

He sets down the glass, bracing himself against the counter. I nearly smile, because he offered me advice, and yet, he's the one who seems to needs it most. I don't even know this guy's name.

"I'm probably not the person to give advice to anyone. I don't even take my own." I wipe the condensation from my glass onto my skirt, inhaling deeply. "Especially regarding the subject of bad parents."

"Aw, I thought you were going to be my savior," he says, chuckling. When he grows red, and I realize he's letting me know he's interested, I decide altogether to avoid his comment. At my silence, he continues. "Do you have kids?"