Page 5 of True Honey
“Careful,” His voice broke through my thoughts and I looked down to see I was spilling salt all over the counter.
“Shit.”
SHORE
Kayla grimaced.
“She’s new,” she added and went to help her, but another customer came through the front door and she had to leave the redhead to clean up herself. I was glad for the interruption. As flirty and fun as Kayla was, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to screw my stress away in a bathroom stall with some waitress, not with my grandfather's ultimatum on my mind. Coming to Hilly’s was a mistake, but it was the first stop with alcohol before the Nest, and at least I could leave my bike in the parking lot safely and walk up the hill when I couldn’t drive it.
“You’ve got to throw some over your shoulder,” I said, swirling the last sip of whiskey.
“Isn’t that an old wives' tale?” She furrowed her brows at me, and I chuckled.
“You aren’t superstitious?” I asked her and shifted on the stool so I was facing her. “It’s bad luck if you don’t,” I said, nodding to the little pile of spilled salt on the serving tray.
“Maybe I don’t believe in luck, good or bad,” she challenged, and my face scrunched up in amusement at her response.
“Doesn’t everyone believe in luck?” I asked.
“Well I mean,” she sighed, filling the next shaker, “if you look at it from a perspective that every day is filled with bad luck, then good luck becomes a pipe dream. Besides, when was the last time anything happened to you that was justluck?” She asked me.
I opened my mouth and shut it again. Trying to think about what she said before answering, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of a single moment when my good fortune wasn’t related to hard work or survival skills.
“Luck has nothing to do with our lives. It's just an old wives' tale to scare sailors, priests, and drunk businessmen,” she said, looking over my suit with a small smirk.
“You’re funny,” I chuckled, and the mounting fear of my future seemed to fade into the silence a little as she spoke, her voice settling me more than the whiskey ever could.
“You don’t talk to a lot of people or?” She teased.
“What, you don’t think you’re funny?” I asked her. “Is this another life philosophy?”
“No,” she shook her head. “There’s not much to be funny about these days.”
“See, that’s nonsense,” I said. “There’s always something to laugh about, you just need to look harder. Like it’s pretty funny that you spilled salt everywhere,” I said, moving my head to the side with a smile.
“That wasn’t that funny,” she said to me, “that was just a mess.”
“Mess can be fun,” I argued. Just not when it was my life, which right now was a disaster.
“If you’re going to make outlandish claims, you should at least mean it,” she called my bluff and I nodded.
“Fair,” I said and finished my whiskey. “And I’m a doctor, not a businessman.”
“What hospital?” She asked.
“Why? Do you have an emergency?” I asked, the whiskey starting to warm my chest and stomach with confidence as it blanketed the anxiety and concern.
“No, so I can avoid the hospital with the drunk doctor.” She smiled.
“Shedoeshave jokes.” I snapped my fingers at her. “I work at the stadium, I’m the chief medical officer for the athletic department.”
“That’s impressive,” she said, not looking up from her funnel.
“If you’re going to make outlandish claims…” I started and she looked up with a death glare in her big green eyes. “You walked into that one,” I said.
“You look like you had a rough day,” she said, her eyes flickering back down.
I cleared my throat and looked down at myself. My tie was everywhere, and my shirt was rolled up around my elbows in a bunch of messy wrinkles. She wasn’t wrong. I looked homeless.
