Page 16 of Smooth Talk

“Oh, he definitely got a rise out of it,” Emma says jokingly. To which, Ruby slaps her arm and gives her a ‘WTF-glare.’

Okay, that’s obviously not the whole story. I know I should have mercy on her; it’s her birthday after all, but I need details. “How many drinks, Rubes?” I ask cautiously because Ruby has been known to overindulge on occasion. It’s hard to tell just how much sometimes though because she can hold her liquor. Really well. She holds it right up to the moment she falls asleep. I don’t mean passes out. Oh, no; she makes herself a make-shift bed and starts snoozing. A jacket becomes a blanket, a scarf— a pillow. And she can sleep anywhere. Emma’s truck’s backseat, boyfriend’s (well, ex-boyfriend now) front porch swing, my couch (Yep, she did that once; literally could not make it up the steps to the guest room). She works too hard, doesn’t get enough sleep, and the alcohol lulls her right to dream town.

As kids we were inseparable. The opportunity to chill together doesn’t happen all that often nowadays, so she jumps at every chance, even if she’s put in a twelve-hour day. She’s usually pretty picky about where she lays her head and it’s rarely our duty as friends to see that her choice is a safe one. But we’re always aware. My guess is that Knox has noticed her narcoleptic habits and is taking precautions.

Which is odd, because those two have hated each other for the longest time. I don’t want to get into the details of their riff, but something happened the summer before our senior year. Before that, they were friends. Come to think of it, they were friends after for a bit too. But that was short-lived. Now, he’s her mortal enemy. Ruby only brings him up in conversation in order to talk a little trash every so often. But I’ve always thought there was a good-naturedness to Knox’s ribbing, like he still cares for her. Even after all this time.

“Gamoto. I was drinking beer!” she practically shouts, to which Em gives her a strong side eye, until she mumbles, “and a few shots of tequila.” Ruby swears in Greek when she’s flustered or frustrated. This should be good.

“Rubes, how many?”

“Like two beers and maybe three shots.” Emma clears her throat loudly. “Okay! It was four beers and three shots, and I was going for an even four/four count when he cut me off. But, in my defense that asshole Barry showed up, and I decided drowning my sorrows was appropriate, considering his new girlfriend looks like Fucking Barbie.”

“Surely, she doesn’t look like Barbie,” I console. That’s a lot of alcohol for my little friend. I’m surprised she wasn’t napping in a back booth already.

“No. She looks like Fucking Barbie. Like it’s her mission in life to take her tall, blonde, skinny ass to pound-town at any moment. Barry’s basically Pimping Ken. You should’ve seen them. I should’ve taken a picture. He was in a suit, and she was in a swimsuit. Her giant pep?nia were popping out of her top. They were at the table next to mine and he was trying to ‘teach her how to shoot pool.’ I had to watch him grope her perfect, practically naked, body for a full hour while I pretended to not be bothered at all. I even played two more games than I’d originally planned (which I won, BTWs), just to show how not-pissed I was.’ She gives a hard eye roll. ‘Then I bellied up to the bar.” I look to Emma to see if there’s some truth to the story, because Ruby’s also been known to embellish.

“She was wearing a red leather crop top and matching skirt that barely covered nips and lips. It was indecent,” Emma states grimacing.

“I’m sorry about Barry, Rubes. But how did you ended up making out with Knox?”

“God, it’s so embarrassing,” she hisses out and looks over her shoulder to make sure no one’s listening, which is pointless because we’re in a corner booth. There’s nothing but wall behind her, and the closest occupied table is ten feet away.

She looks like she’s not going to tell us. “Spill.” Sometimes we all need a friendly little nudge.

“Okay. I had just come out of the ladies’ room and he was coming out of the office and told me I’d missed last call. I looked at my phone and saw that it was only 11:43 and I still had two minutes. So, I told him ‘I was going up to that bar, and I was getting my drink because I still had time.’ He told me he wouldn’t serve me. And I said, ‘That’s fine. Jemma’s behind the bar, she’ll serve me, and you won’t have to waste any more of your precious time with me this evening.’ So, I turned to storm away, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around. Friggin’ Neanderthal. Then he said that I misunderstood; no one would be serving me because I’d ‘had enough.’

So, my drunk brain took that as a challenge (because I didn’t think I’d had nearly enough to erase Pimp & Ho Ken & Barbie from my mind) and said, ‘I’m getting another drink and there isn’t anything you can do to stop me.’ So, his sober brain took that as a challenge, you know how competitive we can get.” I nod, as she continues, “Well, he kind of grabbed my face, pushed me against the wall and kissed me for two minutes. Then smiled at me and said, ‘you just missed last call.’ Then that smarmy bastard turned around, walked back into his office and shut the door. I just stood there with my jaw on the floor until Emma came up beside me and told me our Uber was there. That was two weeks ago, and I haven’t been back to Depot since. I still can’t believe he did that. I mean, who goes around kissing people just to make a point?”

Apparently, Knox Teller does, but I’m going to ignore her question. It was rhetorical anyway, right? “Well,” I hate to ask, but I really want to know. And I’ve been drinking so— excuses. “How was it?”

“So, freakin’ hot!” Emma bursts out. “I mean, you should’ve seen them, Pop. It was ridic. There were hands and lips and teeth and legs and if there hadn’t been so much noise in the bar, I know we would’ve heard moans.” Her hands and hips and eyebrows have been suggestively waggling during her whole spiel.

“Gah, Emma! You said you saw like two seconds of it!” Ruby groans.

“Everyone in the bar saw way more than two seconds, but the icing on the cake,” Emma carries on ignoring Ruby’s glare, “Barry saw the whole thing.” She finishes grinning. By the looks of it, Knox is her new favorite person.

I look at Ruby’s face. She’s definitely blushing. Knox is kind of my new favorite person too. He saved Ruby from overdoing it and sleeping it off in Em’s truck again and it sounds like he very possibly made Barry jealous. And to top it all off, he’s making Ruby blush. Not too shabby.

“It was a one-time occurrence. Never happening again. He doesn’t even like me. And I DO NOT like him. He only did it, so he’d be right, and I’d be… I don’t know… confused.” Ruby looks confused. “He doesn’t like me, right?” She’s asking all of us.

We look around at each other, mulling it over until Sara pipes up. “There’s only one way to find out. Let’s have some after-dinner birthday drinks at Depot,” she waggles her brows at us.

We step through the roll-up garage doors four-deep, arm-in-arm, adjusting our eyes to the darkened space inside. They aren’t super busy yet tonight and we spy four open seats at the bar. Jemma and Knox are both working tonight. She’s a gorgeous blonde, a few years older than us, tall with killer curves, covered in colorful tattoos. She’s worked here forever. At least since Knox’s grandfather still owned the place. She’s rocking her usual black leather halter and ripped-up jeans, pouring IPA’s for some college kids at the opposite end of the bar; we wave to her. She smiles back a greeting and nods to Knox who’s walking toward us.

He stops in front of Ruby, “What can I get you ladies?” He asks our group but only has eyes for Ruby. Knox has that whole bad-boy-bartender thing going on. His long dark hair is pulled up in a knot with a few shorter strands framing his handsome face. Well, what you can see of his face. The rest is covered in a neatly groomed beard. The sleeve of tattoos on his left arm is like a beacon to cougars and college girls everywhere. He even owns a Harley. Even though that’s never been my type, I definitely can see the appeal. Ruby looks at us expectantly, silently asking us to fill our drink orders first, refusing to meet his stare.

I hate uncomfortable silences, so, “I’ll take a Paloma.” Sara and Emma jinx with, “Same.”

He’s still looking at Ruby, but she won’t raise her eyes to his. “What’ll it be, birthday girl?” He remembers Ruby’s date of birth; interesting.

I watch Ruby swallow hard. “I’ll have a Dos XX and a shot of tequila,” she grumbles. I’m trying really hard to fight the giggle attempting to burst free. This is so awkward. I think Knox likes Ruby. And she might actually like him. She’ll never admit it though. She has way too much pride. And she’s hated him for far too long. It’s apparently, a very thin line between love and hate.

“Three Palomas, a Dos and a shot of Patrón, coming right up.” He turns his back to us to make our drinks and my giggle breaks free. Ruby gives me a death glare, so I silence it immediately.

Sara is smiling wickedly, “Oh, he definitely likes you. He was practically devouring you with his eyes.”

“Skata. I don’t want him to devour me with his eyes,” Ruby complains.

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