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Note: Some of you may have already read this chapter as I posted it at the end of "Loser" as a spoiler for what's ahead.
There are only some minor edits and a note at the end has been added.
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He throws another hook; misses. He's sloppy, his movements slowed by liquor.
I smile. I don't know why a preppy college kid in cargo shorts and boat shoes thought he could win this fight anyway.
He slicks his bleached hair back with sweat.
One of his friends pats him on the back. "Come on, man! Take her out already!"
"You could just give up," I offer, jumping back to avoid another jab. "If you quit now, I won't beat your ass in front of your girl." I find his girlfriend in the crowd that surrounded us and wink at her just to piss him off.
His lips pull into a snarl as he dashes toward me, letting out some kind of war cry.
I dodge to the left, trip him, and send him crashing into the dumpster. I glance at the dumpster lid. I could close it on him, bruise a few ribs. I shake my head. Not worth it. It's not his fault anyway. Jealousy is one hell of an emotion.
"Jordan," someone snaps.
My eyes shoot to my boss, his arms crossed over his chest as he stands in the back doorway.
He flicks his chin for me to follow him. "Go home," he says to the boys. "If I see you guys messing with my bar back again, I'll give her incentive to kick all your asses." He raises his eyebrows at them and they scurry away before he pushes past me through the back.
The cooks straighten up as we pass, careful not to piss Boss off. I'm not sure why they're so afraid of him. Rumor has it, he spent most of his life in a bike gang, but I'd bet money it was one of those bike gangs that saves kittens from sewage drains. Boss doesn't seem like the type to hurt people.
"Usually, when I can't find my employees, they're outside smoking pot," he grumbles.
"Boss, I can explain." I'm nearly running to keep up with him.
"Jackson's usually sleeping in the spare room. Jose likes to go to the motel during his breaks... We all know what he's doing there."
"Boss, I didn't even start it this time. That kid –"
"Not you though. No," he pushes through the double doors to the dance floor, and continues toward his office, "you like to fight the customers."
"Boss, I didn't do anything! Just let me explain," the urgency in my tone is growing the closer we get to the break room. I can't lose this job. It's the only thing that keeps me sane.
"Oh, you're going to explain, alright." Boss stops just in front of the door to the breakroom, his eyes hard.
"Boss, I'll –" But as I think of an explanation, he pushes the door open. The lights flip on and dozens of my coworkers jump out from behind lunch tables.
"Happy birthday!" they shout in unison.
My heart stops. "Oh my god," I laugh. "Oh my god, you didn't." Tears push at my eyelids as coworkers swarm me with hugs and birthday wishes.
Boss gives my back a hearty slap. "I really had you, didn't I?" He laughs the kind of laugh that fills the whole room and gives me a bear hug. "Beat the shit out of all the boys. I don't care. Just don't get hurt." He shrugs. "Make sure you grab yourself a slice of cake before you get back to work."
I shake my head, a smile plastered to my face as I feel in my pocket for my phone. Just a few messages from some classmates. I sigh.
I don't know why I thought she'd text me. We haven't talked in nearly six months. Since my graduation in June. Part of me was still hanging on but you can only ghost someone so many times before they drop you.
"You can't be serious." Jackson is standing behind me, a smile glued to his face. "Are you seriously moping about the girl on your birthday?"
I laugh and slide the phone in my pocket. "Shut up, man." I slide two pieces of cake onto a plate.
"What was her name again? Tiffany? Jessica? Something basic," he jokes.
I push the plate into his hands. "She was not basic." As I stab a fork into the tower of cake, I say, "if Boss asks, I ate a slice."
His eyes narrow playfully. "What's in it for me?"
"Two slices of cake, obviously." I start toward the bar as he shrugs.
"Fair enough," he says through a mouthful of cake. That guy could eat 6,000 calories a day and still weigh in at 130 pounds. Probably a good thing though since he's almost three inches shorter than me.
The bartender catches my eye from across the room and nods at me. There's a swarm of customers around her. Live music always brings a crowd and half the bartenders are still in the breakroom eating cake.
"What do you need?" I ask over the chatter.
"What don't I need?" She flicks her chin toward the back. "Ice, clean cups, fresh limes, you name it."
I nod once and start my routine. The bartenders like me because I'm fast. I've made a point to work hard, keep everyone on my good side.
Jackson works slower but he's like the class clown. He keeps the night fun. I'm pretty sure that's why Boss keeps him around.
Things slow down once the music starts and people move to the dance floor. "Who's ready to have some fun tonight?" The lead singer is standing front and center on stage, working the crowd up.
I lean against the bar and watch, taking her in.
Long, dark hair and brown eyes that I could get lost in for hours. She glances my way, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and blushes as she glances at the floor and back.
I smile and continue wiping the counter down, making a mental note to talk to her between sets.
"I can tell you like me." A nasally voice breaks my focus.
I turn to find the blonde whose boyfriend tried to fight me earlier. I snort; continue wiping the counter.
"Why else would you fight my boyfriend? You must have feelings for me." She follows me toward the end of the bar.
I shake my head, a smile playing at my lips. "Sweetheart, I don't have feelings for any of the women I sleep with."
She rolls her eyes, takes another sip of her drink. "Sure thing." She winks as she walks toward the stage.
I shake my head.
"Damn, you're gonna pass up an ass like that?" Jackson lets out a low whistle.
I push the rag into his hand. "This is why I get laid and you don't."
"Whatever." He laughs and starts wiping the counter where I left off.
"They're people, not property," I say, moving to get a better view of the singer.
She glances at me again. Her cheeks go pink.
"How do you do that?" Jackson gives me a shove, his face full of mock anger. "Seriously, how do you do that? You just look at people and they swoon? If I look at a girl like that she'll throw her drink in my face."
We're both laughing when the sound of a chair sliding against the ground catches my attention.
I'm not technically supposed to serve drinks but the bartender must have slipped out when the crowd died down.
"What can I get for you?" I ask, but as I look up, the breath is sucked from my lungs. The music fades; the only sound coming from my heart pounding in my ears.
Brittany is sitting in the chair across from me, one leg crossed over the other, her lips pursed into a small smile. "No. Go ahead, J." She motions toward Jackson. "I'd love to hear how you get so many women to swoon over you."
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I think Brittany is by far the best character that I've ever had the pleasure to write about. And, honestly, she was supposed to be a character that I completely hated. She was also never supposed to be the love interest in the first book. Claire was. Claire was also supposed to survive. Lolz.
Writing is wild.
Anyway, don't forget to show your support and drop that vote!
Thanks everyone!
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