Page 3 of The Other Room

Rubbing my jaw, I nodded. If I’d been this close to Jake last year I would have been bleeding on the ground. In fact, I had ended up a bloody pulp after he saw me one night at the Blue Ox. Not that I didn’t deserve it. I’d had a crush on his ex-fiancé since high school, and like a dumb ass, I’d gotten drunk and didn’t push her away when she’d kissed me. Talk about feeling like a cockroach. The lowest of the low. Luckily, I’d come to my senses before our clothes went flying, but I’d still broken his trust and obliterated a lifetime’s worth of Bro Code. But I’d left that version of me behind, and I’d never slip up and hurt a friend while under the influence again. And not just because I wanted to avoid another well-deserved beating, but because I’d come only a sliver away from ruining the most important friendship of my whole life.

I moved my jaw back and forth like a seesaw. “It still hurts when I chew, you know.”

“Good. That’ll remind you to keep your mitts off my Cassie.” He smirked, and even though his eyes twinkled, I heard the veiled threat laced between the playful words.

“Never, man. I’d sooner chop off my own arms. One time. I fucked up one time and that was enough for me. Bros before—”

“Don’t call Cassie a ho.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Bros before classy ladies?”

Laughing, Jake tossed out another cast. “Bros before classy ladies. Although, I’m still picking Cassie over you if push comes to shove.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” Laughing, I pushed myself back up to my feet and tucked my fishing pole underneath my arm. “I gotta get home and finish packing. And keep up the hunt for a new place.”

“Catch you later, man.” Jake stuck out his hand, and I gave it a slap. Then I paused and gave Hank a scratch before heading back down the docks. While I climbed into my truck, I glanced back down the dock to see Jake give me a last wave goodbye. It had been a year since Jake and I had mended fences after my drunken screw up, and the feeling of knowing I had a best friend, a brother, who had my back was something I’d never take for granted again.

With a quick wave, I put my old truck in gear and pulled away from the docks. The drive to my house took only a few minutes, and soon I pulled up into this truck’s six-year parking spot with a heavy sigh. After next week I had no idea where I’d be parking and laying my head to rest at night. With an internal grumble at my self-inflicted situation, I climbed out and headed into the little grey house I needed to vacate by the weekend.

I walked in through the garage, dropping my boots in the kitchen. A few cardboard boxes with my minimal belongings were stacked by the stove I’d only used for cooking pizzas. Stepping over them, I looked around to see what else I needed to pack up. The house had come furnished, so at least I wouldn’t have to drag all this furniture with me to wherever I landed. Just my clothes, a few boxes of dishes, and all my fishing gear needed to vacate this bachelor pad with me.

As I settled back on the floral couch I’d always hated but saw no need to replace, my cell phone dinged. Picking it up, I looked at the screen. My friend Aaron. Another buddy I’d grown up with in Baileys Harbor.

Aaron: Hey man. Drinks tonight?

Hell yeah, I wanted drinks tonight. Something, anything, to take my mind off the fact I had no place to go. But I needed to buckle down and find a place to live, so I groaned and answered back.

Me: I wish. Gotta find a new place to live. Can’t hang tonight.

Aaron: That sucks. Tony told me you had to move out. Maybe you should just come drown your sorrows for a few hours. We’re going to downtown Sister Bay and then JJ’s for margaritas. Come on. Party time.

Margaritas at JJ’s? I didn’t get to Sister Bay often, and a margarita did sound like something I could use. Scratching the scruff on my chin I realized needed a date with the razor as I contemplated my options. Sit home alone scouring the internet for affordable year-round Door County rentals that were rarer than a unicorn, or head out for some drinks with my friend and work on finding a place to call home later?

Me: What time you picking me up?

Aaron: Hells yeah! Be there at 7.

Me: See you then.

What the hell. If I knew anything about living in Door County, I had a better chance of finding a place to live through word of mouth than I did on the internet. I’d make sure to ask around tonight, and maybe, just maybe, I could find a new place to call home. I hadn’t spent much time looking outside of Baileys Harbor, not wanting to leave the town I’d lived in my whole life, but Sister Bay was booming and there was a better chance of finding a place to live there.

Pushing myself off the couch, I headed into the bathroom to shave my face and jump in the shower. If I wanted to convince someone to rent me a house, smelling like fish wasn’t a big selling point.

CHAPTER TWO

JO

––––––––

A beep from the drink printer behind me sounded like fingernails on the chalkboard. Over and over throughout this insanely busy night it went off each time a server put in a drink order. It was now the soundtrack to my nightmares... nightmares that consisted of me drowning in paper while I tried to make a never-ending stream of drinks.

Beep. It went off again, and I groaned, turning around to see the printer spitting out more tiny white sheets that looked more like losing lottery tickets. Gah! More drink orders on top of the other drink orders I still scrambled to keep up with making. I eyed it as it hissed and spit, wishing I could smash it with a sledgehammer.

“Hey, Jo!” Hanson called from the corner. “Add another regular marg on that!”

“On it!” I called back, then ripped the paper off the printer, eyes bulging at the long list of drinks I needed to make on top of the full bar of customers all vying for my attention. I’d known it would be a big change switching jobs from bartending at the laid-back Blue Ox in Baileys Harbor and jumping into the fray at JJ’s La Puerta, one of the busiest restaurants in Door County, but I had seriously underestimated the number of margaritas that passed over this bar each night. Paired with an extensive bar menu, the pace of this new job resulted in a serious shock to the system. Lucky for me I’d started in May before tourist season hit full swing in July and I’d had a couple months to learn the ropes before getting pummeled every weekend.

At the Blue Ox, I’d primarily cracked beers and dropped off baskets of cheese curds. Sure, it got busy there, but nothing like it did at JJ’s. This was like the Blue Ox on steroids. Like going from high school sports straight into the big leagues. Even though I’d loved my gig at the Ox, when I’d made the move to Sister Bay it made more sense to work here... only a sixty-second walk down the road from my new cabin. The money was great, the owners awesome to work for, and the customers were all pretty fun. But on Friday nights, when you couldn’t even walk through the sea of people crammed into this little waterfront restaurant, I seriously questioned my sanity in thinking I could survive the summer season working in Sister Bay.