Page 3 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

She tosses her purse underneath the counter and quickly throws her long, wavy locks into a high ponytail. Despite having just arrived, the heat in the room is almost suffocating. She’s grateful she opted for her gray, crop-top, off the shoulder, Pink Floyd t-shirt, and her denim, cutoff shorts. Yet, regardless of the amount of skin she’s showing, she knows she’ll still manage to work up a sweat.

“Jess—thankgod,” Cassy calls as she looks up from the register. It pops open, and the short, voluptuous blonde is quick to deposit the cash in her grasp before sliding out coins. Her round face is bright, her hairline glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Remembering Griffin’s comment about them being one man down for the night, Jessica starts to feel guilty for being late.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Cassy insists, leaning over the counter to dole out the necessary change to a waiting patron. She rights herself and blows out a sigh, pushing up her tortoiseshell, cat-eye glasses before she mutters, “You’re here now—justpour.We’ve got another two hours with this damn drink special.”

Jessica doesn’t waste another moment before she rushes to the other end of the bar. Thursday night, drinks are half off until eleven, at which point anyone who is still around is so wasted they don’t mind paying full price until the wee hours of the morning. Convinced the busy night will soon drown out her worries, she bellies up to the sticky, mahogany counter and starts taking orders. As “Take on Me”by a-ha comes on over the speakers, Jessica rolls her neck and finds her smile. The beat puts a natural bounce in her step while she pours shots, uncaps beers, and mixes cocktails.

In no time at all, she’s lost in a steady rhythm of her own making.

“I’ve got toget out of here if I’m going to squeeze in some sleep before my exams today. You good?”

Jessica forces a smile as she shifts her attention toward Cassy. She looks exhausted. Even the shirt clinging to her curvy body seems worn out after their action-packed shift. The bar doesn’t close for another half an hour, but they both know the only patrons left to worry about are the small group of Navy men still throwing darts in the corner. It’s always the military crew who stay the latest, like they don’t believe in sleep. Jessica reminds herself Griffin will kick them out soon, and then she, too, will be on her way.

“I’m good. Get some sleep,” she insists with a wave. “And good luck on your finals.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Jessica watches Cassy as she disappears behind the swinging door. Her thoughts follow after the bosomy blonde, dragging along her envy for good measure. While the two of them are the same age, flirting their way through their twenty-fourth year, Jessica can’t help but forlornly acknowledge all that makes them so different.

Cassy is two finals and one semester away from graduating with her fashion degree. It’s taken her longer than she hoped to get through school, but Jessica knows her coworker won’t be stuck behind a bar for much longer. She’s far too talented. As for herself, Jessica has a hard time believing she’s got any other option. She has neither the funds to chase after a college degree, nor the luxury of scrimping and scraping as a starving artist. Especially not after the news that fell into her lap earlier the previous evening.

Shaking her head, Jessica stops her tired mind from wandering in a direction she’s not ready to traverse. She then takes up the rag on the counter and continues wiping down the vacant surface. Keeping a reign on her thoughts, she finishes up behind the bar and then busies herself sanitizing the rest of the place. A half an hour later, when Griffin comes out to clear the room, Jessica is just finishing her rounds scrubbing tables on the outskirts of the dive.

“Get gone, Chapman. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re on the early shift. Don’t be late.”

Before she can even think of a response, Griffin pushes through the door, headed toward his office. As fast as her tired feet will allow, she returns to the bar to grab her purse. Looping the strap over her shoulder, she digs for her phone and immediately finds a text from her best friend.

Don’t like the sound of that. Could use a slice myself. Meet you before dawn, my dove.

Jessica blows out a sigh of relief, certain a few hours with her favorite man is just what she needs. She stops halfway down the hall, pushing open the bathroom door for a quick pit-stop. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, and her chest fills with an anxiety so dense, she can hardly pull in a breath. It’s the first time she’s taken it upon herself to check her appearance in hours. Except, it’s notJessicashe sees—it’s her life; her responsibilities; her choices, or the lack thereof.

The light over the sink flickers, and the grimy, barely clean restroom seems even more dank than usual. Her exhaustion creeps around the barriers she’s been erecting in her mind all night; exhaustion which causes her to wonder if she’ll ever be more than the woman she sees reflected in the dirty mirror—if herlifewill ever be more than nights that end with her reeking of liquor and the drunken confessions of strangers.

As she reaches up to free her hair from the droopy ponytail which has long since fallen from the crown of her head, her locks cascade down over her shoulders. She rakes her fingers through the soft, thick strands, trying to bring new life to her appearance. Her efforts are useless, and the weight in her chest grows heavier. If she doesn’t get a breath of fresh air soon, her tears won’t be stopped.

Jessica yanks the bathroom door open and races out of Moby’s Dive. As fast as her feet carry her, she still can’t outrun her reality—not her fear, her anxiety, or the ugly sense of hopelessness threatening to make her feel sorry for herself. Nevertheless, she doesn’t slow her pace, knowing she’s got a bus to catch. She doesn’t have time for such useless pity.

After catching the B63 and transferring to B61, it’s a quarter to five when Jessica finally arrives on the corner of 39thand 5th—her favorite spot in all of Brooklyn. As she approaches the entrance of Sunrise Diner & Donuts, she sees her friend through the window. The sight of him makes her pause—the image he creates a stark contrast to her own. He’s gorgeous, almost regal, even after a full night of work and sitting in an old diner, sparsely occupied with the kind of people whose days are finally ending just before everyone else’s begins.

His dark chocolate brown hair is merely inches shorter than Jessica’s, but he’s styled it in an up-do so elegant, it rivals her efforts on her best day. The black suit he wears is expensive, with a label of Burberry or Gucci or the like, and it fits him perfectly. For a moment, Jessica can’t deny her envy. It’s not hismoneyshe longs for—it’s the way in whichStefanohas managed to find the ability to fit comfortably in his own skin.

Stefano sips at his coffee, his attention directed down at his phone as he sits alone in the worn, maroon colored booth. As if he can sense he’s being watched, he looks out the window and spots Jessica right away. The smile that lights up his face causes her to catch her breath. Instantly, she’s not awash with envy but with love. She stares at him, unable to move her feet as she’s reminded, as frustrating and challenging as life may get, she’s not alone. He would never allow it.

When his smile falls and he slips from out of his seat, Jessica watches as he deposits his phone into his jacket’s inside pocket. He buttons the garment closed, all the while keeping his gaze trained on her. The muscles in her chest constrict in warning, and her lips begin to tremble as Stefano hurries from the diner, obviously aware of what she needs without her having to say a word. A small voice in the back of her mind calls her to move, to not allow him to come chasing after her—but it’s drowned out by another voice screaming of her need.

For only a second, she wants someone else to hold her together.

The click of his shoes on the sidewalk beckons her to turn in his direction, and he folds her in his arms the second her first tear falls. Neither one of them speaks as she crumbles a little in his hold. She chokes on her burgeoning sob, clinging unabashedly to his sleek suit. He holds her tighter, and she loves him harder. Gritting her teeth together, Jessica breathes in the elegant scent of Bleu De Chanel she associates with her best friend, trying to swallow the knot threatening to split her throat wide open.

“Let it out, Jess. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” murmurs Stefano as he presses a kiss into her hair.

While his words are meant to grant her permission to fall apart, she doesn’t have the luxury of such fragility. She grabs hold of his lapels and pushes her fists against his chest, shoving herself out of his embrace. Her brown eyes catch his hazel ones, and his arms fall to his sides in helpless understanding. Jessica drags in a lungful of air, then another, blowing out each one in a huff. She then sniffles, sweeps her fingers beneath her eyes, and takes hold of one of his hands.

“Jess—”

“Coffee,” she states with a shake of her head.

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