Page 49 of Broken Romeo

“Love you… see you back home,” I say and hang up.

Nolan eyes my cell phone as I slip it into my purse and enter the bar. “Does New Girl have a live-in boyfriend?”

Interest sparks in his eyes and, if I’m not mistaken, maybe jealousy?

“Nope,” I say. “Just a roommate who I love.”

His smile has a sexy tilt to it that I should be more drawn to than I am.

What’s wrong with me? Nolan Brooks is the sexiest guy I’ve seen in ages, and my sad, neglected vagina simply yawns at his attention.

“Good,” he says with a grin.

It doesn’t escape my notice the way his hand slips around to the small of my back, guiding me toward a table in the back. The group of eight is already in full social mode, sitting around a large circular table. Their drinks are half empty and a plate of nachos is in the center of the table, half gone.

My body goes numb, and I nearly stop in the middle of the bar. Oh fuck. What if they want to split the check in eight equal parts?

Nolan nudges me forward.

“Come on. They don’t bite.” He leans down, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. “I make no promises, though.”

A waitress comes out of nowhere, standing beside my shoulder with her notepad in hand. "What can I get you?"

For a brief moment, I consider ignoring Jill's advice. But as my hand closes around my crossbody purse, I glance at the chalkboard behind the bar. House red: ten dollars. House whites: eight dollars. PBR and a shot of whiskey: three dollars.

Nolan has left me a few steps away. He's already back at the table, standing and leaning as he chats with one of the guys at the end while I figure out what to order.

I point to the sign. "How much for just the PBR?"

Pressing her lips together, the waitress suppresses a sigh. "It's three dollars either way."

Well, that seems stupid. But I don't say that. Instead, I smile at her. I know how shitty her job can be. And I'm one of eight people at her largest, loudest table. I have no doubt all she wants is to finish her shift quickly and be home with her feet on her coffee table, relaxing.

I glance at her name tag and hand her a five-dollar bill from my wallet. "No problem, Andi. Then I'll just take the PBR special and the shot. I'll also go ahead and close out my tab now. Keep the change."

The waitress’s disinterested frown softens, and she slowly takes in my fake leather jacket, designer knockoff from Chinatown, and worn-out Keds. "A two-dollar tip for a three-dollar bill? I'm not in the interest of talking myself out of getting paid, but that seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

It's a loaded response, but I hear her unspoken words beneath it. She sees me. She sees me as one of her own: a fellow food industry server, trying to fit in with this new, fancy crowd.

I glanced back at our loud ass table, filled mostly with people I've never met—everyone but Maggie and Nolan. “Yeah, well, something tells me we're not going to be a low-maintenance group tonight.”

She chuckles, but there's not a lot of humor in it. "Actors never are." Folding the five-dollar bill in half, she hands it back to me. "Tell you what, your first round’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you—”

She shrugs and gives me a smile “It’s not on me. My boss will never notice. The whiskey is cheap as shit, and we don’t keep track of how many PBRs we sell. And don't worry about my tip. With tables of six or more, we include gratuity in the bill. Besides, Nolan comes here a lot. His friends don't always tip well, but he leaves extra and makes up for whatever they lack."

Andi winks at me before turning and heading back to the bar, presumably to pour my whiskey and beer. I take the extra moment to study Nolan.

Maybe there's more to him than I’d thought? I like a guy who appreciates the service industry. Maybe Jill is right. Maybe there's something worth exploring there.

Before I know it, Andi is back, handing me a shot glass and a can of PBR. I thank her and walk the remaining few steps over to the table. As soon as I'm there, Nolan wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side.

"Hey everyone," he bellows. "This is Kate. She's playing opposite me as Skyler."

I bring the beer to my lips, hiding my cringe as I take a sip and then wave at the group. Several people that I recognize, but have never met, smile and wave hello to me. Joaquin Perez, Tony-award winner for best actor in a musical, grins and nods in my direction. Tyler Jansen, another Broadway star, sits with his arm around a man I don’t recognize.

Of course Maggie smiles and waves at me. “Hey lady,” she says.

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