But all I could see was Maxine’s voluminous curls resting on her chest, and the way she batted her eyelashes whenever she saw Grant.
As she left the bar, Grant came by to drop off his glass. She handed him a napkin with writing on it. But he didn’t look at it. He used it to hold his drink, and handed them both to me.
Should I have helped her out? She was a fellow lady, after all, who happened to be going after the man I was living with. Maybe Grant and I weren’t dating. Maybe we had only messed around once or twice. We were mostly roommates. I didn’t care what he did with his romantic life. Because it wasn’t any of my business.
But that was a lie, and I knew it.
I threw the napkin in the trash and washed the cup. Maxine could figure it out on her own. She gawked at me from across the restaurant.
Grant nodded at me, his silent indicator that he was going back to work. He could neversay anythinglike a normal person. He had to be quiet all the damn time.
A toned woman with dark hair plopped onto the seat in front of me.
“It’s about damn time,” she said.
“Christine!” I squealed. “Is it your lunch break?”
“Just got off,” she said. “Figured I’d check up on you. See how you’re doing on your first day.”
“Besides the horde of queen bees ogling Grant like he’s the only nectar they’ve seen in weeks?” I grunted. Christine rolled her eyes. She was back in purple contacts.
“Don’t tell me you actually care,” she said. “He’s not your boyfriend.”
I shook my head. “Whatever. I just don’t want to watch it, you know?”
“Oh, shut up. You like him. Admit it.”
I glanced in his direction. The muscles. The stupid sunglasses. The way he ignored the women who threw themselves at him. And how he always tried to help me, even when I was being unreasonable. And that made him unreasonable too. You could even say it made him stupid.
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Christine’s lip sneered. “I can tell a crush when I see it.”
Was I lying? Damn it. I was trying hard not to lie anymore. Especially not to people like her. People I liked.
“Whatever,” I said quietly. “Maybe I do.”
A knowing smile crossed her face. “At first, I didn’t understand why youdidn’tlike him. And now,nowthat I understand those reasons, youdolikehim.” She laughed. “You are insane, Hazel Maben. Fucking insane.”
I shrunk down.
“Geezus, Hazel. It was a joke,” she laughed. “He’s going to the wedding, though, right? Tell me you’re not.”
I shrugged. “She’s my sister.”
“And she’s marrying a psychopathic murderer.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
“Not if you’re not,” she said. She leaned across the bar and slapped my shoulder. “Solidarity, right? But for real. If you don’t go, I won’t either. We can hang out together instead. Don’t give in to the guilt. She’s your sister, but she left you, right? Remember?”
I guessed she was right, but I didn’t want to talk about that right now. “What are you drinking?” I asked. “On me.”
She ordered a bourbon smash. As I muddled the peach chunks, I looked over at the restaurant. Grant was looking at us. Wasn’t he supposed to be working? Why was he staring at Christine?
I gestured at him. “Maybe he likes you,” I said.
Christine shrugged. “I’m not one to steal like that,” she said, winking. She chugged the drink, then slammed the glass down. “You’re a doll,” she said. “I almost wouldn’t be able to tell that you’d never bartended before. Almost.”
