Page 14 of Last First Time
Ilook over the books again, my eyeballs aching. The numbers aren’t changing no matter how hard I pray or how inventively I swear. The money just isn’t there unless I dip into my super-secret safety stash, and I swore I’d never do that unless it was a matter of life and death. This is my business that I’ve built from the ground up, but at the end of the day, it’s only a business. I can’t even think about touching that money.
I rub my hands against my face, and then stand up to stretch. I really am going to have to uproot. It was one thing to say it to Reed when I was upset, but it’s another thing entirely to know it’s real and have to face the inevitable. I’m going to have a little less than two months to pack my things and figure out my next move.
Meanwhile, back in regular life, it’s closing time, so I need to get back out front and collect keys and close up. “Amanda, why don’t you head out and let me clean up?”
“Thanks, K.T. I’ve got class in the morning, and I appreciate it.” I wave her out the door. At least one of us is doing something with her life.
I clap my hands loudly. “Okay rowdies. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Keys in the fishbowl if you need to.” I flip on the main lights, watching my clientele make those last-minute decisions about whether to go home alone or take their chances with whoever they have been making eyes at all night. But who am I kidding? This is Valentine. If anyone did anything even a little tiny bit scandalous, it would hang on them like an albatross forever.
For example, if you were running a re-election campaign and got caught looking like you couldn’t hardly do your job for lack of inability to keep your dick in your pants. That might weigh a man down.
Reed is a hot, drunken mess at the end of my bar. I snap my fingers in front of his puffy, drunken face. “Rules apply to you too, Mr. Mayor. Keys in the fishbowl.”
He slides sideways and throws his stupid rich people no-key fob thing in the fishbowl, then rolls back into a tragic puddle on my countertop. The stream of other customers eases toward the doors, laughing and talking a little too loudly. This is taking too long, and I’m still going to have to figure out what to do about the sexy drunk man draped across my bar.
“Reed.” I nudge his foot with my foot. “Reed,” I say louder, this time shaking his shoulder a little bit. He doesn’t even move.
The last person finally gets out the door, and I lock up and start to clean. I put some Sepultura on the jukebox to keep me company while I stack chairs and mop. I glance over at Reed when he makes a terrible groaning sound, but frankly I don’t care about his bullshit right now. If you don’t want to feel like a warmed-up bag of crap, then maybe don’t drink all the bourbon in my bar. Easy.
Finally, my place is clean and ready to shut down for the night, so it’s time to figure out how to haul the hot mess Mayor home for the night.
“Come on, Rich Boy. Let’s go.” I nudge him into a standing position, but then he droops over again, wilting like last week’s flowers.
I sigh and prop him up as best as I can, wedging myself against him. “You’re too big for me to drag out of here, so you’re going to have to get up and get moving. Now come on.”
“You should leave me here. Send someone for my corpse in the morning.” It’s a lot of words in a row, so I can tell that he’s going to be okay. Pressed up against him, I notice that even when he’s absolutely shitfaced, he still smells great. Obviously, there’s a delicious bourbon smell all over him, but he also smells like sandalwood. And man. Hot, drunk man.
“Do you need me to call Aaron, or are you going to be able to get it together enough to let me haul you home tonight?” I grunt as I heave him further upright. He’s way too heavy for this soggy drunk guy act.
“Don’t call Aaron tonight. He’s out on some super secret date or whatever. Drag me out to the curb and I’ll crawl home.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Reed. Now stand up straight and act like you have your own feet underneath you for a few more minutes and let’s get you poured into Towanda. I can drive you to the palace.”
He laughs. “The palace. Sure.” He droops over again, but at least appears to be holding most of his own weight now.
“Did you need to go to someone else’s house instead? I suppose I can drop you off somewhere if you need to get your dick sucked for the next campaign photo op.”
He sucks in a breath and I do too. Okay, guess I’m still pretty pissed off about that whole press conference thing, even if it wasn’t necessarily his fault.
“Low blow, Kar. I thought we agreed we aren’t going to treat each other that way.” The words are muzzy around the edges from the bourbon, but I get it.
“Told you I was bad at this, you idiot face.” I tug on his arm, noticing that even his stupid forearms are muscular. “You’re not doing great at it either, in case you missed the actual press conference earlier.”
“Yeah, it’s almost as if half of my hometown, including almost all of the five to eleven-year-old kids of Valentine, decided this morning that I’m too much of a wild boy to be a good mayor.” He sighs and wobbles a bit. “Sorry if my pity party offends you.”
“It could always be worse, Rich Boy. You could have been visibly drunk and throwing up in some of those photos. Or maybe you could have had an embarrassing photo taken of your bare, pasty ass. No wonder everyone hates you right now. That was the most tragic photo of you ever created.” He droops again and makes a noise.
I lean closer to make sure that he’s not actually crying, but it turns out he giggled. Mayor Reed Harrington IV is not a giggler. Unless he’s shitfaced after a major campaign disaster, it seems.
I kind of like him this way. He’s a mess, but he’s so much more relaxed. Plus, he’s still hot as hell. And he’s only ever like this for me, when he can be real instead of being a practiced politician all the time. Even after hours at my bar, he has to always be this perfect version of himself. Until today, when his ass was literally showing all over town.
“You talking about this butt?” He wriggles it at me, then slaps it himself, almost falling over. “You like my butt, Kar?” His vigorous wiggling pauses for a moment as he works to regain his balance. “If you like it so much, why don’t you marry it?” He giggles again.
This man is going to be the death of me. I give him my best eat-shit-and-die glare, but it only makes him laugh harder, until he’s sputtering and bent over in hilarity. Despite my best efforts to give him my man eater attitude, I can’t help but grin at his silliness. “If I married your ass, I’d keep you locked up at home and never let anyone see the goods but me.”
“I need to be locked up,” he mutters, as he pours himself into the passenger side of my truck.
“Reed, I know you don’t want to hear this right now,” I pause, waiting for him to look over to me. He doesn’t even move his face toward the sound of my voice. I take a deep breath. “But if you throw up in my truck, you have to get it detailed.”
