Page 4 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Yeah, well, we’re both lucky the town forgave me. If not, we’d be broke.”

It’s true. The townsfolk took it upon themselves to judge me for my choices regarding my physical body, but after time have come around to realizing I’m not some monster just because I have a sort of edgier look now. I still love to dress up in cute little sundresses, cowboy boots and wear pretty makeup. Only now, I’m also usually always wearing some variation of jean cutoff shorts, a band tee cropped at the waist and leather boots.

Call it multidimensional, but it’s uniquely me, which is why the town and my parents had such a hard time understanding.

“So, are you working at Stingers tonight? Or did Jase finally give you the night off?” Billie gets to work on cleaning one of our espresso machines while I take a sip of my latte.

It’s still too hot to drink and I nearly burn myself as the hot milk touches my lips. I’m in dire need of caffeine, and although I shot back two shots of espresso this morning when I first walked into the shop, in order to pull through the sixteen hour shift I have today, I need it injected straight through my veins.

One thing I had no problem splurging on when we first opened was our espresso machine. Now, four years later, we’ve upgraded and have two state-of-the-art machines.

“Closing,” I say, looking down at the latte art Billie’s perfected. “I’m heading over there right after my shift here. Jase needed the night off, so we switched. I’ll be off tomorrow and Tuesday night instead.”

Billie scoffs, rolling her eyes. She’s not my brother’s biggest fan, or anyone’s in particular. Especially not Nash’s after I’d confessed what happened between us to her and Monroe one drunken night in college. Monroe was pissed, to say the least. Not only because her brother had broken my heart, but because he’d also broken hers when he’d left. Not to mention he's also avoided seeing her all these years, and sent nothing more than a text every few months, but that was something else entirely none of us understood.

“You know, the perks of owning multiple businesses is that you don’t work yourself into early retirement. But you, my dear Bailey, are headed straight there working nearly twenty hours a day.”

My hands are shaking, the lack of sleep is really getting to me and causing hot coffee to drip over my fingers. “Fuck, that’s hot. Look Bills, things have to get done, especially when the bar is still so new.”

She reaches for the cup in my hand and sets it down on the counter before grabbing a towel and drying the coffee that’s spilled. “Woman, soon enough caffeine isn’t going to be enough. Go home, B. Get some sleep before your shift tonight. HoneyBees will survive a Sunday without you. I’m here and Kelsey will be in at nine. We got this.”

I nod, unable to argue with her when I know there’s no way I’m making tonight's shift without at least shutting my eyes for more than twenty minutes. “Thanks Billie, but if you need anything…”

She interrupts me before I can continue and smacks my ass as I bend down to grab my things. Her hair bounces as she placesa hand on her jutted out hip. “I can figure it out myself. You do forget sometimes I own half the shop, B.”

Grabbing my keys and bag from under the register counter, along with my half empty coffee cup from her hands, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek before pushing out of the saloon style door leading out from behind the counter. “Impossible, Bills. Not like you ever let me forget it.”

“Love you too, bitch!” I hear her shout as the door shuts behind me.

Chapter Two

Bailey

“It’s on the house, darling.”

Earl, a burly old man in his late fifties and my most loyal customer, tucks a five-dollar tip into my hand and winks as he takes his beer from me. It’s been a half hour since we opened for the night, yet I can always count on Earl to be sitting in the parking lot of Stingers as soon as I pull up the nights I come in early to open. Usually by three in the afternoon, right after I clock out at HoneyBees and head down the block to Stingers, Earl’s finishing up his shift down at the local recycling plant and headed our way.

If it weren’t for the layers of tobacco smoke that he wears as a cologne, swear the man would smell like garbage. But he’s nice, always has been to me and that’s saying something given some of our usuals’ need a boot up their ass more often than not.

Guess it comes with the territory of owning one of the few bars in town. Between Stingers and Wiley’s Pub, a sketchy dive bar that’s been open since the founding of Crossroads in the late nineteen thirties, there isn’t much variety in town. There are a few other dive bars in nearby towns, but they lack the characterfolks from Crossroads look for. Especially since the place that was here before us was a true historic landmark the people of Crossroads have been looking for since.

Stingers is in one of the oldest buildings in town that served as the most popular Honky Tonks in this part of the country. The building has history, so I’ve tried my best to capture it and ensure Stingers’ keeps its southern charm yet still reflects a classy and upscale environment, where our patrons can enjoy one of the thirty beers we have on tap, as well as indulge in the decadent menu our world class chef prepares nightly in the kitchen.

Not to mention leaving it all out on our dance floor.

In the six months since we’ve opened our doors, that’s exactly what my brother Jase and I have nearly achieved. Not only have we amassed a clientele of loyal locals that have opted out of continuing to support Wiley’s and have instead made Stingers home, but earlier this summer, we had hordes of tourists from out by Carolina Beach who came to visit our picturesque town and dropped in for a feel of the local culture.

After I left HoneyBees this morning, I came straight home to the apartment I purchased along with the bar six months ago. Living with Billie for nearly four years was pretty incredible, but I purchased the two-bedroom property with a loft right above Stingers and have been slowly remodeling the fixer-upper any chance I get, which is currently no time at all.

Before crashing for a much needed nap, I took a long shower—a full body scrub down complete with lady grooming and deep conditioning hair wash—and unpacked a few of the boxes I’ve been storing in the spare bedroom. I’m thinking of eventually converting the space into a home office along with a guest bedroom with a Murphy bed that folds up against the wall. I saw some girl’s DIY project while scrolling through Instagram the other night and figured I could do the thing myself.

Not nearly as refreshed as I’d hoped, I spent the first few hours of my shift working the bar while Kellie, one of the other bartenders, took care of manning the tables.

My feet are killing me. I’ve not only been working two jobs for the last six months, but I’ve been doing it on my feet wearing some rather uncomfortable attire. We don’t have a uniform at HoneyBees. I typically will just wear one of our various t-shirts with the HoneyBees logo, merchandise we sell at our shop, with whatever bottoms and shoes. But at the bar, I like to spice things up since because of my two jobs I rarely get to go out and do anything fun, so dressing up to work the bar is my idea of a night out.

Most of the staff wear their black and dark green Stingers tees and jeans, but tonight I’ve opted for a pair of tight black leather pants that make my ass look damn good, if I do say so myself, and a black lace bra which peeks out of the Stingers tank top. I’ve recently opted out of wearing anything but my black Lucchese boots or a pair of high-heeled, knee-high Yves Saint Laurent boots I got as a gift from my brother Camden last Christmas. An especially wrong choice given the impromptu rain that’s been pouring down in the last hour.

“Bailey, can I have a second?” Penelope Taylor, a friend of mine from college and one of the handful of people we hired to help with the bar, asks as she heads behind the counter. Her blonde hair, a slight shade darker than mine, is styled in loose waves along her shoulders much like mine, only her blue eyes are hidden behind round glasses that give her a sweet librarian feel despite the ink wrapped along her neck in an intricate design.

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