Reece reached around him to grab the tip jar. “I don’t drink.”
“Is there a biological reason for that?”
“You tell me, fellow empath.”
Ben made a face. “Okay, fine. I can do all sorts of virgin drinks.”
Reece turned the jar around in his hands, examining it. “I can’t afford anything in this club.”
“No problem, it’s on the house.”
“Pass. I don’t want a faux drink from a faux empath as charity.” Bingo: the Stone Solutions’ phone number was on one of the stickers. He pecked it into his phone and balanced it in the crook of his neck.
Ben pursed his lips. Then, gamely, he said, “So. A real empath.”
“No.” Reece pushed the jar back into place as his phone began to ring.
“No, you’re not a real empath?” Ben said in confusion.
“No, I’m not giving anyone in this club tips on pretending to be an empath so you can keep lying to the poor saps who come here.”
Ben’s mouth fell open. “Well, I got one thing about being an empath wrong. I’ve been beingnice.” He stomped off to the other end of the bar.
On Reece’s phone, a receptionist picked up. “Stone Solutions, how can we defend your mind today?”
Reece pulled the phone away, gave it a look, then sighed and put it back to his ear. “Can I talk to the medical examiner, please?”
“Medical examiner?” she repeated. “We don’t have any medical examiners.”
Reece frowned. “What about a doctor, then?”
“We employ dozens of doctors in multiple practice areas.” The receptionist paused. “What did you say your name was?”
Reece hung up. He was about to call Jamey when a glass of something red appeared on the bar in front of him.
He looked up in surprise.
“Shirley Temple,” Ben said pointedly. “Because you need something sweet to offset being so bitter.”
Not a lie. Reece would have been irritated, except—“This has cherries.”
“Extracherries,” Ben confirmed. “And it’s on me.”
Reece territorially pulled the fizzy drink closer. He sipped, and his eyes fluttered shut at the rush of sugary syrup. Ben might have been a fake empath, but he was a real bartender. “It’s good,” he reluctantly admitted, through a second, longer sip.
“Oh, look at that, I got you to say something nice,” said Ben. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
It was admittedly hard to stay irritated when your mouth tasted like sugar and cherries. “I’m paying you for it.”
“It’s just a drink,” said Ben. “Don’t make it weird.”
Reece cracked an eye. “Do you even like boys?”
“Doyou? Or did Frodo make up the bisexuality thing too?”
Reece rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to speak for all empaths,” he said, as he took another long sip. “But the list of people I like at all is short, and getting shorter by the day,” he added pointedly.
“I bet you’d meet a lot of people you’d like here.” Ben propped his chin on his hand. “Hell, every last person who walks through those doors would buy your drinks if you let them. It’s a whole club for people into you.”
