Page 84 of Sugar
I should have knownAva would make friends with every fucking person in here. Even Sunny and Boone, the bar’s two meanest dipshit regulars, are eating out of the palm of her pretty little hand. She works the crowd like she was made for the attention, for the glory of having every set of eyes in the building on her.
And boy, are they on her.
It used to bother me, when we were younger. She’d pull shit like this at parties full of people we didn’t know, and it would scare me. I’d worry someone might want to take advantage of her, might want totakefrom her, and it fucking made me crazy. But Ava required her own agency, and eventually I came to learn that she could fend for herself. That she thrived in the performance and was much more comfortable withthatversion of herself, who had the power to pull you in and leave you wanting more. I think, for her, it felt safer than being honest.
It took a while for me to understand the deep-rooted fears Ava carried that stemmed from issues with her parents—her mom’s abandonment and her dad’s detachment left her struggling with things like vulnerability and self-worth. But once I understood those pieces of her, it made it easy to love them all.
Her eyes find mine across the room. I’ve been watching her flirt with two cowboys for about five minutes; they’re from a ranch about ten miles north of here and don’t come in often, but when they do they’re always respectful and keep to themselves while spending a decent amount of money on drinks. Tonight they brought a couple of women with them, though at the moment, I don’t see them.
I throw her aShould I be worried?look. Humor dances in her eyes as she shoots me a wink back. She leans closer to the man on her left, murmuring something that has him slapping the table and shaking with laughter. And then she pats him on the shoulder and leaves them, heading right for me.
“Jealous?” she asks as she takes an empty seat at the bar. Her smile could power the lights in this place for weeks. Fucking brat.
Yes, I think. But I don’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, I pull a tall glass from the stack and fill it with ice water, setting it in front of her. “You having fun?”
“Oh yeah.” She nods, taking a long drink. “I’m curious—do you think a cocktail server in a bar like this would make as much money as a lawyer?”
I know it’s a joke, but a lick of pleasure rushes through me so hard and fast I have to close my eyes to steady myself, that she’s eventhinkingabout what it would be like to work here. With me. I should have paid more attention in biology class, because I don’t have the words to explain the things she does to me. “More, actually,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t notice the stumble. “Especially with a face like yours.”
I woke up this morning with Ava’s heart beating against my ribs, and as I stared up at the ceiling thinking about everything we’d done, I felt the urgency of this second chance slam into me. I know this little marriage deal was only supposed to be a convenient way for us both to solve some problems—but afterlast night, shit’s changed, and I’m not a kid anymore. I’m smarter now. I can see through the bullshit lies she tells herself because she thinks it’s better that way.
And I’m not gonna let her keep getting away with it.
“I hope it’s okay with you, but I’m going to try to liven the place up.” She scooches off the barstool and lands on her feet, angling away from me.
“What does that mean?”
She looks back at me over her shoulder, throwing me a wry grin. “You’ll see.”
Within minutes, Ava’s rallied to get at least eighty percent of our patrons onto their feet after feeding quarters into the jukebox. The sound of bagpipes fills the space as “Copperhead Road” starts playing, and Ava squeals, quickly working to show the group the steps before the lyrics start. At first, no one gets it, but they’re enamored by her dazzling insistence and do their best to follow along as she shoots her feet out on the ground in front of her, the heel of her boots clacking against the hardwood floor. Eventually people start catching on, and soon they’re all stomping in unison to the beat of the song, eyes stuck on her feet to follow her lead.
I watch from behind the bar, in disbelief and a little awe.
“The fuck is she doing?” Rhett says, coming up behind me, eyes glued to the girl of my dreams as she punches a hole through my heart.
“Dancing,” I say simply.
He looks at me. Looks back at her. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You really are fucked.”
I roll my eyes, turning to face him. He’s been upstairschecking on Oliviafor the last forty-five minutes, and now his collar’s obviously crumpled and his hair’s a mess. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”
He frowns and turns away, shouting, “Not sure what you’re talking about!” over the music.
“You have lipstick on your neck, idiot!” I shout back.
“Excuse me,” someone asks from behind me. I turn to find one of the middle-aged women who came in earlier with the cowboys. A quick glance tells me the other woman—her friend, I’m assuming—is back at the table with them.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say politely as I approach her. “Can I get you something?”
“I’d love a lemon drop martini, please,” she says as her eyes trail down my bare arms. She’s wearing a tight black dress that reveals more than I care to see, but I respect her confidence.
It’s not the first time someone from out of town has come in and ordered something you’d probably find on any other menu, but not ours. We actually don’t even have menus. We have a couple of cheap beers on tap and whatever bottles are currently on the shelf, which are mostly whiskeys.
I give her my best customer-service smile as I lean forward on the bar between us to spare myself from having to yell over all the stomping going on behind her. It pains me a little, actually, that I can’t watch Ava. “This isn’t really a fancy bar and we don’t have a lot of fancy tricks. Don’t even own a single martini glass, I’m afraid. But Icangive you some vodka with some lemon juice squeezed in, if that’s something you think you might like.”
