“Don’t worry, dude, I’ve gotcha,” Jackson said. He reached into his glove compartment and took out a bottle of cologne. “I keep this in here just in case. You never want to show up to meet a girl smelling like fish.” He handed it to me. “It’s strong, so go easy.”
“Thanks, man.” I stepped out of the car and sprayed myself a few times, then handed it to him to do the same. He tossed the bottle onto his seat and shut the door, didn’t even bother locking it. Nobody broke into cars in Solara Bay. And if they were going to, they wouldn’t bother with Jackson’s beat-up, twenty-year-old sedan. They would go for one of the fancy cars the rich tourists drove.
Inside, the bar was just starting to fill up, but there were a couple of open stools near the end of the row that Jackson and I snagged.
“Do you want to try and find a booth?” I asked. “So your friend will have a place to sit?”
“That’s okay. Jen’s running a little late,” he said, looking at his phone. “She told me to order a beer for her, though. We can move if we have to once she gets here.”
It was Al who ended up taking our order, and I did my best to hide my disappointment. He opened a couple of beer bottles and slid them over to us, then started a tab on Jackson’s card. “First round is on me,” the kid said. “I got a promotion today.”
“Hey, congrats,” I said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve earned it with all the weight you’ve been pulling lately.” Even though he only started a month ago, they had been working Jackson to the bone. Probably because he was one of the few people strong enough to do some of the rougher jobs on the boat. “How much did they bump you up?”
“Just 25 cents more an hour, but I’ll take it. Anything helps when you’re saving up for college.”
I smiled and sipped my beer. Al went to go help some other patrons, and I turned around on my stool to scan the room. Jackson watched me out of the corner of his eye, but I didn’t care if he knew what I was up to. When I glanced his way, he laughed.
“I haven’t seen her yet either,” he said. “And she’s hard to miss, so something tells me she’s not working tonight.”
“She has to be,” I said. “It’s way too busy for just Al to be manning the bar.”
“Maybe she’s on a break then.” He sipped from his bottle. “Maybe I’ll text Jen and say that I don’t see her. I have a feeling Jen isn’t actually running late. She’s just afraid to come out tonight because she knows I’m going to push her to talk to the bartender.”
“Speaking of, is it rude if I shoot my shot with her before your friend gets here?”
“Not at all,” Jackson said. “Chances are Jen’s not going to do anything about her crush. Tonight or ever.”
“In that case.” I spotted the woman coming out of the bathroom and elbowing her way back to the bar. I tucked my chin into my chest when she walked by so she wouldn’t notice and waited until she was done putting her apron back on around her waist to say anything.
“First Saturday night on the job. You doing okay so far, or do you want me to jump over the counter and help out?”
She looked up from the glass she was polishing and eyed me with noticeable annoyance, even though I literally had only said one thing. “Oh. It’s you.”
“In the flesh.”
“I see Al has already gotten you a drink, so is there something else you need, or can I get back to work?”
I looked down the length of the bar but didn’t see anyone who was trying to get her attention. “Am I really keeping you from your work?”
“Yup. Like you said, it’s a Saturday night at a popular bar. There’s always something I could be doing.”
“I’m Jackson, by the way.” Jackson stuck his hand out, but she ignored it. “I’m a friend of Rory’s from work. You might remember me from the other night.”
“You were part of his group?”
“No, I wish,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not nearly cool enough to run around with Rory and his gang. Not a chance.” He grinned at me.
“Hey, Jackson,” I said under my breath. “If this is your attempt at being a wingman, I don’t need the help.”
He smirked. “You sure?”
I gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Go wait for your friend outside. I’ll save your seat.”
He did as I asked, just like I knew he would, sliding off the stool with no argument. The bartender watched him leave.
“You’ve got him trained pretty well.”
“He’s a nice kid, if not a little naive.” I sipped my beer. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, that’s right. I was about to ask for your name, and you were about to tell me what it was—and maybe tell me some other interesting fact about you. Or two or three.”