Page 47 of Keeper
“Okay, deal.”
***
The brewery was bustling on a Saturday night with its young and trendy crowd. The entire back wall of the bar was a giant window that gave a glimpse into the brewery part of the operation, with its enormous stainless steel tanks and other assorted beer-brewing machinery.
Just like Marta said, the bartenders excitedly greeted her and started lavishing us with all the free drinks and food we could ask for. To uphold our end of the unspoken agreement, I snapped a few pictures of Marta posing in her racy dress by the bar. She conjured up asmexycaption—that’ssmartplussexy, by the way—anduploaded it to her Instagram feed, making sure to tag the brewery for publicity, of course.
“And that’s that,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Bill comped.”
“Amazing,” I said with a laugh. “Do you get this treatment everywhere you go?”
Marta’s smile said it all. “Life is good when you’re an influencer.”
We took our seats at the bar. A group of guys sat to our side. I felt the one closest to me looking at us as we took our seats—Marta had talked me into wearing one of her club dresses to dinner—but I ignored him.
I noticed that a sports game was playing onthe television.
“Hey, hockey!” I shouted. “Is the guy we’re supposed to meet tomorrow playing?”
Marta nodded. “Yep.”
“Ooh, exciting,” I said, my spine straightening.
During a stoppage in play, the camera panned slowly across the bench. The athletes managed stern expressions on their flushed and sweaty faces. The score was 0–0.
“So which one is he?” I asked, bouncing on my stool with excitement.
“There,” she said as the camera zoomed in on the goalie. “The goalie. Vaughn.”
Thanks to his goalie mask, I couldn’t make out what he looked like—but for the briefest second, I got a glimpse at his eyes. And the intensity lurking in those eyes was so striking, so deeply and uniquelyfamiliaron a visceral level … yet I couldn’t place it.
Whoa. He’s got eyes like someone I know. But who?
I groaned. “Darn. The goalie is the one guy who’s face wecan’tsee.”
“Take my word for it, then: he’s a babe. You’ll see tomorrow for yourself.”
The guy sitting at my right saw an opening to insert himself into our conversation. “Sorry, I overheard. Did you just say you’re meeting Vaughn tomorrow?” he asked, smiling at me. He was handsome—not as hot as the guy last night, of course, but still, a handsome guy.
“We are,” I answered.
“That’s awesome. How’d that go down?”
I started to answer, but Marta leaned over me and snapped at the guy. “Hey, why don’t you mind your own business?”
Unsure if Marta was serious, he chuckled diplomatically. “Sorry, I’m just making small talk.”
“Yeah. Small,” Marta fired back, “just like your dick.”
My heart pumped with a nervous thud, flooding my bloodstream with adrenaline. Ihatedconfrontation so much, even being around it made me feel sick to my stomach.
The guy recoiled with a scowl. “Jeez. What’s your problem?”
“You’ve been eye-fucking me since the second I walked in here,” Marta said. “You think I haven’t noticed?”
“Sure.” He softly chuckled. “Sure I have.” He got up to leave, but not before telling me, “You’re cute, but your friend’s a bitch.”
“Unbelievable.” Marta huffed and gave the poor guy the middle finger as he walked off. “Can you believe the fucking nerve of these losers?”
