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Jordan
“You don’t look so good, sugar.”
I look up from the cooler where I’m loading beer bottles from a case and give Grady a weak smile. “Nothing a box of Thin Mints won’t fix,” I tell him.
Or a vat of sherbert ice cream or Pike walking in here right now, taking me in his arms in front of everyone, and telling me he loves me.
God, I’m so tired. And weary. I couldn’t stand to look at him last night, and I wanted nothing more than to be away from him and out of his life.
I took my newly repaired VW and crashed at my sister’s, and then I came to work at ten to get ready for the lunch shift, and I’ve been here for twelve hours now, staying long after the schedule dictated.
My anger and resolve are still there, but so is the sadness now. I miss him.
But I hate myself more.
I love him and want him, but…
I can’t be around him.
He makes me laugh, and when I’m with him, I’m home. Like he’s the only thing in my life I understand.
But I don’t understand myself anymore. Someone has to fight for me for a change.
I’m not going back.
“You clocked out without closing the tab before you left last time,” Grady says, pulling cash out of his wallet. “Here’s your tip.”
He slides a couple twenties across the bar, and I close the cooler and laugh under my breath, my eyes feeling heavy with fatigue.
“Grady, it didn’t even occur to me,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about stuff like that. I’m just happy you’re here.”
Which is the truth. He saves me from having to force conversation with anyone else while I’m working. He doesn’t flirt or make crude comments, and he likes my music on the jukebox.
I leave the money and clear off his empty bottle, popping the top of a new one and setting it in front of him.
“Hey, can I have two Buds?” someone calls, holding out money at the bar.
I head over, hearing the phone ring and seeing Shel grab it.
Opening the cooler, I pull out the two Buds.
“Jordan?” Shel repeats into the phone.
I glance over at her, setting the two beers down in front of the guy.
“Who’s calling?” she asks.
I keep my eyes on her, my breathing going shallow as I take the guy’s money and ring up his drinks.
“Pike?” she says.
She casts me a look, and I shake my head. It’s late, I’ve been gone since last night, and I’m actually surprised he hasn’t come looking for me, making his pushy demands as usual.
“Yeah, she’s not here,” Shel lies. “Her shift ended. Try her cell phone.”
She hangs up, probably not waiting for him to say anything else and definitely not knowing that Pike has already called my cell a few times today. He didn’t leave messages, though, and he hasn’t texted.
She approaches me. “What is going on?”
