Page 56 of Cherry Beats

“And when did you speak to my boss?”

“I brought a date into your place last night.” She laughed roughly. “Bourbs gives me all the gossip on you when you’re not there.”

“Bourbs? You have a cute nickname for him now?”

“Of course. You’re my best friendandhis best friend. We like to sit around a witch’s cauldron and make up potions to pour in your drink to make sure you don’t make any stupid mistakes, like, I don’t know… letting a certain blonde, leather-clad lothario back into your bed the second he comes a knocking.”

My head fell into my free hand, face smacking directly into the palm with a slap. The only response I had was the groan that rumbled in my groggy throat.

“Ah,” Molly cried through an obvious smile. “He found you, then.”

“I did not let him back in my bed.” It wasn’t a lie… technically.

“The sofa? Wait. The shower? Living room floor?”

“Ugh,” I groaned, the visuals and memories of him taking over again.

“Oh, baby girl,” Molly offered sweetly. She wasn’t often sympathetic. At least not in the traditional sense, but whenever her tone softened that way, or she called me her baby girl, I knew she was on my side. “Did you at least try to say no?”

“Once or twice.”

“What happened?”

“This stupid, arrogant reporter woman came knocking on my door, and all my resolve somehow slipped away the second she eventually left. We think she knew Presley was there because she saw his leather jacket on the back of my sofa. He had to stay a little longer to hide out. I guess with the shock of having him there in front of me, being all…” I paused, trying desperately to think of the right word.

“Being all Presley West?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Then having to deal with the shock of knowing the press knew about me in some way… I don’t know. I just crumbled, Mol. I fell apart, and he was close enough to catch me—hold me like I mattered for a while and do his thing.”

“His thing, huh? Was his thing good?”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Then why so blue, baby beau?”

“Because now I’m back to square one.”

“President of Pining-ville again?”

“Poetically pathetic, Part Two.”

There was a tap to the front glass door of BB’s, and when I looked up, my gorgeous Molly was standing there with her phone pressed against her ear and a warm, sad smile on her face, waving her delicate manicured fingers at me.

“Don’t worry, Tess. I’m here to catch you, too. I’ve got two arms, two ears, and two shoulders to hold all your misery.”

* * *

Molly flicked her luscious blonde hair and pulled it around to drape over one shoulder as she sat at the bar, watching me work. She was the kind of woman you loved to have around, but she was never front and centre, demanding your attention or being too invasive. Molly had too much damn fun of her own to be concerned with how anyone else was living their lives, but she was, without a doubt, the first person I called in a crisis. She was one of those annoyingly well put together women, no matter the occasion.

Her perfectly-manicured nails were circling the wine glass resting in front of her, while I got to work behind the bar, serving the punters that had trickled in since we opened the doors. Thank God some of the part-time staff were in today, too. I looked how I felt—tired, and I didn’t need anyone to lie to me or pretend otherwise. My hair was thrown up into the same messy bun it had been in when Presley left the night before, and I even had the same thin, grey sweater on. The only difference was the shorts had been exchanged for boyfriend jeans. I wasn’t wearing any makeup—a fact Molly had given me seven different lectures on already since coming over. Apparently, a smudge of kohl on my eyes turned me from grunge-head to goddess in a second, and I had no excuse to be so lazy with my appearance.

What did I care about looking good the morning after I’d said goodbye to Presley? Molly should have been happy I wasn’t locked up in my apartment, wailing to the sound of Celine Dion while watching Bridget Jones on repeat.

Every man that walked up to the bar looked through me as though I wasn’t really there, before they glanced at Molly and gave her their best smoulder.Good luck with that one,boys, I wanted to say to them. Guys didn’t get to choose her, she chose them, and she had zero desire to settle down.

“Keep lookin’, sweetheart,” Molly said with a smirk as a tall, fairly attractive man in a navy-blue suit and open-necked white shirt gave her the eye. Even I had to admit he looked good. He looked expensive, classy, and… in charge—like he could dominate your life and make your clothes fly off your body with nothing more than a well-timed look.

“I sure am looking,” he answered smoothly.

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