Page 42 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Thanks,” she says as I watch a single tear fall from her eye. “It’s been hard.”

“I get it,” I say, empathizing with her more than she knows. “I get it more than most.”

She nods. “Exactly. Actually, there’s?—”

I feel like she’s about to say something else, but at that moment, the front door swings open, bringing in Harry and George. Their eyes immediately take in the sight of me standing next to a much younger woman whom they don’t know.

Oh hell, the town Facebook page is about to go nuts.

“I gotta go,” Missy quickly says.

“Wait. Stay for some food. You’re here. We can catch up.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe some other time. Good seeing you, Porter.”

Missy all but sprints out of The Joint, nearly hitting George and Harry in her exit, leaving me questioning what the hell just happened.

“Who was that?” George asks.

“I don’t know who she was, but she’s the spitting image of Porter’s mama,” Harry says.

“Holy shit!” George yells, looking out the door, then back to me. “Does that mean it was who I think it was?”

I quickly point to their stools. “Get over there and forget about what you just saw.”

“Sorry, Porter. No can do,” George says. “If that girl was your half-sister, Rolling Hills is about to be aflutter wanting to know what she’s doing in town.”

Me too, George. Me too.

guide to love rule #66

Having a shoulder to cry on is always a good thing. If that person can also make you orgasm? Even better.

12

quinn

Something’s off.

I know I’ve only worked here a few days, and tonight is technically my first solo bartending shift, but as soon as I walk into the bar, I can tell the vibes are off.

There’s music playing, but normally you have to strain to hear it over patrons talking. But I can hear every word of the classic rock song that I’ve heard more this week than I have in my entire life. And it’s not because the bar is empty. Far from it. The crowd is decent for a Saturday early evening. But everyone is talking in low whispers, looking around like someone might hear what they’re saying. It’s like top secret information is being passed around.

What’s even stranger is that Porter is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Jenny says, looking exhausted and it’s only six o’clock.

“Are you okay? Where’s Porter?”

Jenny tilts her head back toward his office as she pours a Beam and Coke. “He’s been back there for a few hours now. Asked me if I could watch the bar for a bit, which was fine because we didn’t have many customers. But he hasn’t come back and I’ve been too busy to check on him.”

Shit. That doesn’t sound like Porter at all.

“Do you want me to see if he’s okay? Help you? Tell me what you need.”

“Can you please make these drinks for me so I can go to the bathroom? I’m dying.”

I wave her off. “Go. Leave me your order.”

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