Page 15 of You Can't Fight Lightning
He was a player, though. I remembered that grin right before he left. He was a player. Someone who thought he was clever, and cute, and could buy the things he wanted.
Like me.
Because who was I to someone like that? Just a bartender in a dive bar in a small town.
If that is what he thought, he had some home truths headed his way. I was anything but cheap, easy, or bought off.
I cashed out his check and tucked the twenties into my apron. At least I’d made good money off him. He thought he was a player?
Obviously, he’d never tried his game out with anyone who worked in the service industry. We could see assholes a mile away. Unfortunately, some of my colleagues went running to them.
But not me.
And honestly, since he’d taken his shot with me and missed by many miles, I doubted I’d see him again.
The rest of my shift was slow until after the scrimmage ended. Loretta came in to take over for me. The bar was hopping tonight—the jukebox was going, people were laughing and talking loudly, and the air was cheerful with all the possibilities of early evening in a bar. It would shift later tonight, as possibilities dwindled and reality came barging back in. But for now, it was good. I was glad to leave on a high note.
I refused to think about the Z note, whatever he was.
“How was it?” Loretta was looking over my sales for the day. “Oooh, you had a good one.”
“Just some tourist.”
“Janny said he was hotter than peppers from a goat’s ass.” She didn’t look up as she spoke.
“She’s right. He was.”
Loretta peered at me over her reading glasses, turning her head so she could see me. “You like him?”
“He’s hot. But that’s it.”
Loretta looked up at the ceiling. “Lord, I’ve tried. I shall keep trying. Because we both know she’s too young and has too much going for her to die an old woman, alone with her possums.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t even get to die alone with cats?”
“Nope. You’ll be blind as a hoot owl, and not able to tell the little critters you keep feeding aren’t actually cats.” Loretta delivered this with no inflection as though we were discussing the cost of tomatoes, or something equally boring and no big deal.
“I love how positive you are about my future.”
“You’re not doing a darn thing for your future. We’re glad to have you here. Don’t think otherwise.” She shook a hand full of credit card receipts at me. “But you’re smart, and you’re a lovely woman. You deserve to be loved.”
“We’ve been through this. I’ve been loved. I lost some of my love. But I have other kinds of love, and I’m good.” I wasn’t going to go through this again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Loretta.”
“All right, honey. Kiss, kiss.” She turned back to the receipts.
I went through the kitchen and into the staff locker room. As I grabbed my stuff, I worked to make no eye contact with anyone and get the hell out of there.
The early evening air was cooler, and it smelled better outside. I inhaled deeply before getting on my bike. Then I drove home to my small apartment. Once inside, I dropped my stuff on the floor, and flopped onto the couch.
It had been a day. That was kind of an understatement.
I’d put all the emotions that I had with Wade and Cameron in a box. I loved both of them dearly. You could say I’d loved them to death, because I’d lost both of them to that steely eyed bitch.
So why did a guy like Z Olimbos get under my skin and into my bloodstream like he had? He was hot, yes. He had charm. He was well-spoken, and obviously could be a good tipper. I didn’t want to give him credit for anything other than trying to score points with me on that front.
He also didn’t pick up on the signals I was broadcasting, because otherwise the brunch invitation would have never been made.
I rubbed my face. What I needed was a bath. I felt dusty and tired, and a bath with a very cold tonic water and lime would allow me to relax. Tomorrow was my last day for a couple of days.
