Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter seventeen | l i e .

"Hey, Owen," Robert says as we walk towards the back of the bar. "How's that new son of yours doing?"

A smile spreads across my face as I think of Mason. I really do love that kid.

"He's great, really."

Mitchell throws his jacket over the back of a chair and hands me a twenty.

"On me, guys. Get what you want, Robbie. And Owen, you can get a water, if you're still on your alcohol boycott."

I chuckle. "It is not a boycott, but alright."

Robbie rolls his eyes. "Just a beer."

"Mitchell?" I ask, waiting for him to tell me his order.

"Vodka and tonic water."

I turn and begin to walk towards the bar when I feel a buzz in my pocket. Reaching down, I see my mother has texted me about Mason.

Mason is fine. No need to worry about him.

She knows I'm still worried about him despite his calmness when I left, but I should try to relax a bit.

Okay, I type back, nearing the bar counter where I can see a bartender standing, Thank you.

I slip my phone into my pocket, finally looking down to at the bartender. The air is sucked out of the room as I realize who the person standing in front of me is.

It's Ramona.

I'm pretty sure the shock is written all over my face, although Ramona hasn't looked up at me yet. Her glazed-over eyes are locked on a glass cup sitting on the counter in front of her, her mind most likely miles away from reality.

"Ramona?!"

She looks up at me slowly, wide-eyed and frozen, unable to say anything. It's the first time I've seen her look something other than angry or disgusted, but nonetheless, she recovers quickly.

"That's my name."

Her voice is emotionless, although she must be freaking out on the inside. Or maybe she's not. I can't really tell.

"What are you doing here?"

"I work here."

Now, I don't know much about Ramona besides the fact that she feels the need to be a downright asshole most of the time. One thing Jean did tell me, however, is that she's sixteen years old. I know that for a fact, and I also know this is illegal.

"What do you mean you work here?"

I try to keep my voice low, not wanting to attract attention from other people sitting at the bar.

Ramona looks unfazed by me, though. Her voice remains flat as she reaches behind her to grab an order slip.

"What did you want to drink?"

"Ramona!"

She looks up into my eyes with a slight bit of guilt, also surprised by my sharp tone of voice.

"This is illegal."

"No fucking shit!" she snaps back, keeping her voice barely above a whisper as her face gets closer to mine. "You think I don't know this?!"

And there it is—there's the attitude. It never really goes away.

"Ramona," the other bartender behind the bar says as he approaches us slowly. "You good over here?"

He gets within a few feet of her and I can see her get slightly squirmy. The other guy is pretty muscular, but also looks to be a few years older than Ramona.