Page 12 of Mixed Connection
Though I’m enjoying Jameson’s undivided attention and what it does to me, I turn to give him an apology of my own but a face belonging to a man I haven’t seen in a while waltzes in. My eyebrows become quick friends with my hairline and my mouth drops slightly before I wave him over.
“Anderson? It’s been too long, how are you? Are you stopping in for a drink?” I pepper him with questions as he claps a hand on Jameson’s shoulder.
“Wait, you two know each other?” Jameson asks. This must be the person he is meeting with, what a small world.
“Hey, Cass,” Anders greets me, pushing a closed fist my way. We do our handshake and I catch Jameson watching us, in awe as he chuckles in disbelief.
When I hired Triple C to remodel this place, there were days when things didn’t go as planned.With older buildings, it happens but we’ll make it rightAnders would say, but for me, the constant shift in plans was always the first time. I never thought I would be buying my dream building, let alone remodeling it.
Remodel still feels like such an understatement when he ripped it down to its studs. On a particularly rough day, he walked up to me and grabbed my pinky with his own, before pressing our thumbs together and wiggling his fingers as he urged me to do the same. I remember huffing a laugh as the random act cut through the anxious fog I was suffocating in. Since that day, it has become a way to check-in with each other. He made the job easy because he was so trustworthy and did what he said he would. Moments like those blossomed into the friendship we have now; and even though it has been quite some time since he’s stopped by, it doesn’t matter. Some friends you talk with every single day and others, months or even years can pass.
“How do you have a handshake with Cassidy? We don’t even have one! You’ve been holding out on me Anders!” Jameson’s voice raises an octave, clearly in jest for his lack of a secret handshake.
“Don’t be jealous, Jameson,” I say, resting my palm on the bar. I lean into my hip before continuing, “We can have a handshake of our own.”
Anders snorts at my comment and pays Jameson no mind, before answering my question about how they know each other. “This is the other owner of Crews, the one who does all the consulting and was out scouting new places when we were working here.”
Anderson looks from side to side, taking in all the new updates since he’s been in before he tilts his head in Jameson’s direction. “He’s also my best friend. It’s been too long, Cass. The place looks great.” He rests his forearm on the bar and I squint my eyes a bit, he is normally a man of very few words but maybe being with his best friend loosens his tongue.
It’s been a few years since Anderson has been inside, well, since the grand opening come to think of it. When I bought the building, I hired Crews Construction and Consulting to separate the spaces and build out the bar of mine and Lo’s dreams. Anderson became a quick friend with all the hours we spent together to get this place just the way we wanted. There was no way I could’ve known he was also Jameson’s best friend, and now that I know, this information is blowing my mind. He has been so close to me this entire time.
I make my way around the bar, giving Anders a side hug before pointing at them both. “Anderson, it is so good to see you. We shouldn’t allow another two years to go by, okay? I have to get back on drink duty but—” Knowing Anderson’s no response, is in fact a response all on its own, I pull out my phone and turn to face Jameson. “What’s your number?”
This somehow makes his grin deepen, it’s beautiful and tugs at my heart, and on instinct I begin to raise my hand in my desire to touch him, but quickly change my mind, reminding myself that just because I read all about insta-love doesn’t meanI want to jump the gun. His dimples peek through as he gives me a megawatt smile with perfectly straight teeth. He gives me his number and I make sure to send him a text, watching him as he leans his head down and peers at the screen. I can tell he has read it when his tongue peeks out a bit and he rubs his lips together. I nod with a smirk and turn to get a customer’s order.
“Cassidy.”
Hearing my name on his tongue with such an authoritative tone makes me stop in my tracks, a blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks, and I look at him from over my shoulder. Understanding he wants my eyes on him before he says anything else. “About that book recommendation?” My eyes almost dazzle, the thought of Jameson reading sends flutters low in my belly—but a recommendation from me? A book fiend’s dream. “What about a book that fits the drink you were telling me about at the reunion, it’s your favorite right? The one that started Shaken Tropes. I’d like to find out why.”
One Bed.
He wants to find out why I love the one bed trope. And he remembered what I said, and fuck if it isn’t sexy as hell. “Okay.” My voice is husky as all theone bedscenes pop into the forefront of my mind, showing me what he is about to read. “Let me grab one for you.”
The blue and black cover comes into view, the deep tones making it one of my favorites. Pulling it off the bookshelf, I tuck it under my arm as a customer approaches me about the upcoming tournament we’ve chatted about previously. He starts with the tournament and eventually asks for a sports romance focused on golf with a drink to match. “Let me just finish with this book rec and I’ll be right over,” I answer, making an internal note of where he sits down.
Last year we signed up to be a vendor at a professional golf tournament, taking Shaken Tropes to the green. Paloma wasactually the one to bring it up given she has experience with country clubs. She said it would be a great way to market us and invest in a charity event, it was an immediateyes.
I hustle my way back to Jameson, extending the book. “Here you go, it’s one of my favorites. Treat it right.” I glare at him, keeping my face stern as he takes the book, a soft smile gracing his face.
“Always.” His answer feels like he is implying more than just the treatment of the book. I watch him for a moment as he makes his way over to where Anderson is now seated at a booth. I grab the towel off the countertop, toss it over my shoulder and get to work.
Shaken Tropes is packed tonight, whether it’s regulars coming in for a spiked coffee and a book, or people walking in from downtown who are just intrigued with the space. Paloma distributed new flyers and has been pushing social media a lot lately. Clearly, it’s paying off. When we first had the idea of the bar we were sure it would be a hit, there was no doubt in our minds. It was something we often saw in bigger cities or near popular tourist destinations, but there wasn’t anything similar near us. We were certain, if we wanted it, then others must as well.
It has been four years since we opened the doors and I don’t think I will ever regret it. We both took several bartending classes and made sure to hire a temporary bartender to help us learn in our own space. Brianna was amazing and pretty much taught us everything we know. She never left though, even after she finished training us she stayed on and became our lead bartender here. Though she did a bit of everything, from helping establish inventory, to connecting us with a chef who would make appetizers worthy of a book lovers’ imagination, she also became a close friend. She told us sticking around Shaken Tropes allowed her time to work on her paintings, somethingshe struggles to do when she is pressed behind a desk piled high with paperwork.
I can’t help but continue to be grateful when I find more of my people.
Paloma and I work together to attend to all the new faces that are coming in tonight. Making quick work of drink orders and book recommendations as the afrobeats merge into a Lofi playlist that allows everyone to enjoy the music, but doesn’t distract readers from their books.
As the night progresses there is one thing that is just as constant as the customers and book rec pairings—I can feel Jameson’s eyes on me and it’s taking everything in me not to meet his gaze. After depositing a book back in its rightful place on the shelf, I turn on my feet and head back towards the bar. My phone vibrates in my back pocket and a soft sigh escapes me as I look at the message.
Jameson
I could watch you do your thing all night, beautiful.
Am I melting right here and now? Maybe I should turn the air conditioner down just in case I turn into a puddle.
You’re watching me?
