Page 32 of Told You So
Reluctantly, I nod. “I don’t know if he’ll be back anytime soon,” I say sadly. Although I get to take the Rumbler out every now and again for a tune-up, I miss my best friend.
“It’s crazy. It’s like we’re all adults now and getting old or something,” Tompkins says with a sigh.
“Hey now, speak for yourself,” Slinsky laughs. “I’m in my prime.” He winks at a young blonde who’s probably still in high school, and I shake my head. Some things never change.
Peering around the bonfire, I realize Mac’s right. There seem to be fewer people I actually know at these things anymore. I meet Mac’s wide eyes and register her “come save us” look as she nods to the guys standing around her and Sam. With a smirk, I pull out a beer for Mac since she’s bottleless, and plan my escape.
“Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” I nod to Mac and Sam. “Duty calls.”
Slinsky winks at me, which I ignore.
“See ya, Nick,” Tompkins says over the sound of the music. “Let’s grab a beer sometime!”
“I’m working at Lick’s now—stop by anytime!” I shout back.
Jogging up to Mac and Sam, I wonder when, exactly, I became their cock-blocker. It was gradual, but I don’t mind it, especially when Sam is out of sorts and Mac might as well be flying solo.
“Ladies,” I say, stopping beside them. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long.” I look at the two guys talking to them. They give me a once over. “Hey, I’m Nick,” I say, introducing myself with an affable smile.
They nod at me, and I hand Mac a beer. “My lady.”
She smiles, grateful, and looks at the two John Does. “Anyway,” Mac says sweetly. “It was nice meeting you guys. Enjoy the bonfire.” To anyone else it’s a polite smile, but I see it for what it is, painted on and desperate to be unhinged. The guys glance between Mac, Sam, and me, clearly confused before they turn and walk away.
Mac sighs and chugs some of her beer. “Thanks,” she says, letting out a deep exhale. “I don’t even care that this taste horrible. I needed a drink. My wingman is MIA tonight,” Mac says, nudging Sam playfully.
But Sam’s eyes widen before they narrow and a familiar laugh catches my ear. Sam’s face says it all, burning red, even in the darkness. When I turn around, Bethany is lip locked with a guy I’ve never seen before, sucking on his face like she’s rabid.
“Homewrecker’s already moved on, I see?” Mac mutters beside me.
But when Bethany comes up for air and sees me standing there, her expression surprises me. I’m not sure if it’s my frown or the fact that she’s clearly wasted, but for a fleeting moment, I think I see the sad-eyed girl from middle school. Her glassy eyes are fixed on me and her grip on the dude she’s hanging on loosens.
“That was fast—” Bethany’s gaze darts to Mac, like she hadn’t noticed her until now. “Mike too boring for you already, or is this theotherguy?” Mac sneers.
“Let’s go,” Sam says, turning for the dunes again. Mac is all too willing and they head toward the pathway. Bethany’s date tugs on her to follow him to the fire, but Bethany’s eyes narrow on Sam and she tugs her arm away from him as she watches the girls walk away.
All I can do is shake my head, and I follow after the girls. When I reach the top of the first dune, I peer back to find Bethany is straddling the guy’s lap at the fire, lips locked on his again. I don’t know what happened to the Bethany I thought I knew, but she’s long gone. The girl I see now is lost.
Fourteen
Nick
“Brady!” I shout above the noise. “I need a margarita on the rocks for the young lady in the pink sweater.” It’s Friday night, which means Lick’s is where it’s at. The city kids come out of the woodwork, teachers let loose, and Saratoga Falls becomes a college town on ‘roids. The locals, well, they come in for an after-work drink and stay for five.
Taking the ID from Pink Sweater’s friend, I glance between the hottie and her license. She doesn’t look old enough to buy cigarettes, let alone drink, but it’s legit, even if my gaze lingers on her bright blue eyes longer than it needs to. I might even call them mesmerizing, if it weren’t for a pair of smoky gray eyes I haven’t been able to get out of my head all week.
I wink at Pink Sweater and her friend as I return their Oregon IDs, because that’s my thing—I wink and smile and, mostly, the ladies eat it up. Then, I rest a pint glass against the Lagunitas tap to fill ‘er up.
“And.. . what can I get for you, sir?” I ask the man at the end of the bar. With a quick tip, I pour the excess foam from the glass in my hand and slide it over to the woman patiently waiting for it. I take the guy’s order and everything else is automatic.
My hands move swiftly, wiping wet spots from the bar, and my eyes scan the other patrons’ drinks. I check on the man at the end who’s been sipping his beer for what feels like an hour, and then on the guy with an empty tequila shot, hitting on a girl who’s clearly not into him.
The girl he’s with leans over the bar when she catches my eye. “I’ll have a whiskey this time,” she says. “A double.” At the rate this date of theirs is going, I’d say she’s going to need it.
I nod. “We talking top shelf or—”
“JD, please,” she says, checking her watch.
“A woman after my own heart.” I flash her a smile. “Coming right up.”
