Page 12 of Broken Rules
The Cove was packed. Music pulsed around Savannah as she reached for the bottom-shelf rum. She tipped the bottle for a four-count, then slung it back in the rack before she turned and grabbed the fountain gun, filling the rest of the glass with soda.
“Seven dollars,” she said to the guy whose eyes were positioned south of her own.
He scowled, meeting her gaze. “Last time it was six.”
She glared at him. “Added tax for looking at my tits all night.”
Over the last couple weeks, the thin, lanky man had become a regular, showing up almost every night. Everything about him skeeved her out, the way he looked at her, and spoke to her. He seemed like the kind of guy that would slow his car down in front of a high school to watch the girl’s field hockey team practice in their short skirts.
“What’s wrong tonight, baby doll? You can tell Steve.”
She shuddered. “You didn’t just say that.” Before he could answer, she turned away. Skeevy Stevie was just too much for her to handle at the moment.
“Savannah!”
She turned, looking expectantly at Heather, the new hostess, who was beckoning Savannah to the other side of the bar with a frantic hand.
“What now?” she groaned. The night was turning out to be a total shit-show. “Is the kitchen still backed up? I told you to slow down the seating. Just because a table is open, doesn’t mean the kitchen can handle the order.”
“No, it’s not that; I promise my pacing is better. It’s Brandi.”
Savannah ducked under the bar. “What’s wrong with Brandi? Is she not coming in? Laura already called out; Brandi has to come in!”
“She’s here, although she probably should’ve called out.” Heather paused, her brows drawn. “Jason broke up with her.”
“Shit!” Savannah glanced at the full bar. If only Roger, her usual bar-mate on weekend nights, worked Mondays. He could have handled the bar on his own. She signaled to one of the bussers. “Pull one of the bartenders from upstairs to cover down here.” Then she turned to Heather. “Where is she?”
“In the bathroom.”
Savannah set off in that direction. “How bad is it?”
Hastening to keep up with Savannah’s quick pace, Heather answered, “Tears but stoic tears, not the sloppy, uncontrollable kind.”
Savannah took a deep breath. “That’s a good start.”
She swung open the bathroom door and spotted Brandi sitting on the sink, her head bowed. “Hi darlin’.”
Brandi looked up. Flooded, golden-brown eyes locked with Savannah’s. Brandi’s complexion under normal circumstances was porcelain-white and flawless, but tonight her face had a ruddy appearance and was streaked with tears.
Savannah crossed the room and pulled her friend close, wrapping her in a warm embrace. After a few moments of back-patting and gentle rocking, Savannah pulled away slightly. “I’d say I’m sorry, Brandi, but I’m not. Jason didn’t deserve you.”
She sniffled. “I’ve dated better.”
“Yeah, but darlin’, to be honest, that’s not saying much.”
Brandi bristled at Savannah’s bluntness. “Like you’re one to talk. Roman was no hero.”
“I fully admit to my bad judgment over Roman...and every other guy I’ve ever dated.” Savannah straightened, taking on her best power poise—legs spread, arms akimbo. “Listen, you and me, we can’t keep dating these assholes. We’ve got to find nice guys.”
“Nice guys,” Brandi said brightly, swiping at her wet cheeks. “Wouldn’t that be a change.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, aren’t nice guys the ones that sweat when they try to ask you out and learn how to dress from their mothers?”
Savannah shook her head. “That’s just a myth; probably made up by the same asshole who spread the myth that bad boys can be redeemed by the love of a good woman.” Savannah clasped her friend’s hands. “Wearegood women. Smart, hardworking, good for a laugh, kind, loyal. We deserve to be treated with respect.”
Brandi pulled away, sniffed, and threw her shoulders back, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder. “You’re right, Savvy! From now on, only nice guys.” A moment later, her shoulders drooped back down. “But for tonight, can I just hate all men?”
Savannah smiled. “Whatever you have to do to get through this shift.”
Brandi tied her apron around her waist, checked her makeup in the mirror and turned to face Savannah. “Done. Let’s get out there.”
