Page 65 of Taming Waves

When Dad questioned me about what I had done on Sunday evening, I casually told him I had been at the carnival with friends. Since Heather was pretty much the only person I’d hung out with outside of the bar over the past few years, I was sure he didn’t completely believe me. If he did, he likely suspected that Parker had somehow been involved.

Although I take pride in being a strong, independent woman, the truth is that, deep down, I will always be a daddy’s girl. That’s why I dislike lying to him, even if it’s just by omission.

He didn’t press me on the matter though, which I appreciated. I wouldn’t know how to answer his questions anyway. It’s not like I can tell my father that I’m not in a relationship with Parker Alston; I’m just letting him knock the dust off my vagina.

Leena and I are working the dinner shift, and I’m loading a tray with cocktails for one of the servers when Amiya, Lennon, Anson, Parker, Sebastian, and Avie enter. The guys grab a table, and Amiya and Avie head to me.

“Can we get two of those cherry fizz things you made the other night?” Amiya asks.

“I’m out of cherry liqueur, but I can make you one with cherry vodka, simple syrup, and club soda,” I offer.

“Sounds great.”

“What are you guys up to?” I ask as I start making their drinks.

“The boys were out fishing on the boat all day, so we came to meet them for dinner. Too bad you can’t join us.”

“I’m off in half an hour, and I’ll come join you,” I say.

They take their glasses to the table as their server arrives with several appetizers. Thirty minutes later, I let Leena know I’m closing out. I fetch a basket of tater tots from Calvin, grab a Coke, and then take my snack and join my friends. Parker snags a spare chair from one of the other tables, and Amiya scooches over so I can slide between them.

“How’s it going today?” Parker asks as he hands me the ketchup from the center of the table.

“Good. Lunch was slow, but dinner picked up a bit. I expect it to be a fairly quiet night. Leonard should be fine.”

Wednesday nights are calm during the offseason with only our regulars—locals who never miss a night—and a few stragglers. Therefore, I’ve reduced the staffing to one bartender.

The server arrives with a round of shots for the table.

“Oh, we need one more,” Amiya says as she passes the glasses around.

“No, that’s okay. None for me,” I say.

“Why not? You’re done for the night, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am. I don’t drink here though,” I say.

“Yeah, probably bad business for the bartenders to get wasted,” Sebastian says.

Parker looks at me and pushes his shot aside.

I roll my eyes.

“I don’t have a problem with you drinking here as long as it’s not when you’re behind my bar. I just spend a lot of time in this place. I don’t want to make a habit of drinking every day, so it’s a rule I made for myself. I know how easy it is to use something—anything—as a crutch. I used prescription pills. First, it’s just one to help you through a particularly taxing day at work. Then, it’s another to help you wind down at night. Before you know it, you’re taking that little magic pill just to function like a normal person. It spirals out of control without you even realizing it’s happening.”

We all have a line in the sand—an invisible threshold—one we can’t cross without getting lost in something. Once we cross it, we can never uncross it, never go back to enjoying a cocktail with the girls. And we are our own gatekeepers.

“So, I don’t drink on workdays or when upset. I try to limit myself to two glasses of wine or two cocktails, though I don’t always manage that, as you all witnessed the other night, but I try,” I continue.

“That’s smart. It makes sense that you must be careful when working in your industry,” Avie says.

“Plus, we’ve seen too many people act a damn fool because of it,” Amiya says, sliding her eyes to Anson.

His eyes go wide. “Who, me?”

“You are the only damn fool in here,” she quips.

“Whatever. I’m going over there, where my charm will be appreciated.”

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