Page 16 of Waiting for Sunshine

The fact that he calls me sunshine then basically kicks me out of the bar seems a little like a contradiction. Who doesn’t want to be around sunshine? Is he a vampire? Is he that weird guy fromBenchwarmersthat’s allergic to the sun? Or wait, was that guy just afraid of the sun?

Either way, whatever is going on, has my head spinning. It shouldn’t matter though, right? I have sworn off men. I don’t trust men. Men are trash.

I need a second opinion. When I go to text Taylor to tell her what the hell just happened, and get some unhinged, crazy girl advice, I realize – I don’t have my phone. I kept it in my pocket all night, so my guess is, it fell out while I was getting all hot and bothered on the bar counter. Now I have to go back in there, where I was so hastily rushed out. Fantastic.

I walk back through the kitchen and out the door to the bar. Very carefully so as not to hit anyone this time. But the bar is completely empty. I assume Max is outside talking to whoever was out there before because the receipts from the night are still on the counter and the front door is unlocked.

I look around the bar counter for my phone, but I don’t see it. I am about to give up when I barely spot it on the floor. It looks like it got kicked under the bar, so now I have to lie on the ground and reach my arm on the nasty floor to retrieve it. Would it be too dramatic to abandon this mission and just buy a new phone? Since I’m not exactly flush with cash I decide to just suck it up and reach for it. I hear the front door fly open just as my fingertips fail to reach my phone by a hair.

“Ugh, hey boss, do we happen to have a little grabber arm around here or something? I can’t reach my phone.” I jump to my feet, awaiting his answer. Which I assume will be no. How many people keep a grabbing stick around a bar? All of a sudden I am face to face with someone in a black ski mask.

Before I can move or scream he’s grabbing my arm, turning me to face away from him, and shoving something into my back. Which I can only assume is a weapon. He tells me to empty the register, but when I look at it, the register drawer is gone. I assume Max took it back to his office before starting on the receipts for the night.

Speaking of Max, where thehellis he right now?

I answer the robber, my heart racing against my chest.

“We don’t have one.” I spit out. He grabs my arms tighter.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, princess. Get me the fucking drawer.” He grits out through his teeth. My heart is hammering against my chest, and tears begin to form in my eyes because I suddenly don’t see myself getting out of this situation. I try to answer but I can’t find the words. I already told the truth so I’m not sure what lies I should tell that could possibly make this situation less hostile.

“I — I..”Say something Shane, dammit.

Before I have the chance to come up with a lie, he spins me around and slaps me across the face, causing me to fall across the bar, knocking some glasses onto the floor. I hold my face and feel the tears I didn’t know were falling.

“Did I fucking stutter? Where is it!” He shouts, holding a gun up to my face. Before my mind can process what’s happening, two large bodies rush in. I look up to find the guy who had been outside the bar earlier, now throwing punches at the robber.

Isn’t that the martini guy?

The guy in the ski mask lands a punch and Max’s friend steps back, but there’s still control in his movements. When he starts to walk back over to even the score, the robber grabs my beer bottle from earlier and breaks it on the bar top. He swings it so fast I would have missed it, had I blinked.

“Fuck!” the friend shouts. I jolt from the sound, and when my eyes open again, Max is behind the robber, pulling his arms behind his back. He pushes him to the ground and holds him there.

“Tuck, man, talk to me. You good?” he asks. His voice is so steady, like the things that are happening are some minor convenience and not something that is insanely traumatizing.

“Yeah man, fucker cut me pretty deep though.” This guy sounds just as calm as Max. Me, however, my eyes are wildly darting between the two of them. My breath is coming so fast now, I think I am two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, and my face stings from where I was slapped.

“Shane, can you call the police?” I look at Max but my body doesn’t move. I see his eyes move to his friend and he nods his head in my direction. My eyes follow his gaze and the guy is coming around the back of the bar. He picks up a bar towel, holding it firmly on his cut hand.

“Shane, my name is Tucker, great to meet you.” He grins and then winces.

“Do you think you can grab the phone and call the police? I need to keep this here.” He motions to the towel placed on his hand. “And Max needs to keepthatfrom moving until they get here.” He nods to where Max has the guy pinned to the ground.

His voice is so kind, steady, and comforting. My breaths finally start to slow, ever so slightly, as he holds my gaze. I shake my head and pick the phone up off the wall to call 911.

CHAPTER8

MAX

“What the hell was that?”Tucker asks, startled. We are back in my office getting the keys to my truck and talking about where Tank will be living and when he can start at the bar when we hear glass breaking out in the bar. I know Shane already left, so I’m not sure who would be in there. Then I remember I didn’t lock the front door when Tucker came in.

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna wait to find out.” I say, hastily making my way towards my office door. When I open it I hear someone shouting and I look up to see Shane standing behind the bar with someone holding a gun to her.

At a closer glance I can tell it is a fake, but I’ve already started seeing red. One thing about having Tucker as a friend, there is always an unspoken understanding between us, about almost everything. I head straight for Shane and he goes straight for the guy in a ski mask.

I look Shane over and check for anywhere she might be hurt. Her eyes are filled with tears, and so distant from everything that was happening.

“Shane. Are you hurt?” I study her but she never says a word. She watches as Tucker and this masked robber trade punches. I’m about to try again when I hear a bottle break.

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