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Nolan thought about all the schoolwork he still had to complete—even with a part-time class load, he felt out of his depth on top of full-time work and the kids—and the kid who’d spilled grape juice on Silly Sandgrouse today. He often did that, thinking of Silly in the third person, separate from himself, as if he weren’t the one inside experiencing it all. As if he went on some heat-induced hallucination and floated outside of himself. Or maybe that was just the Tildy World rules rubbing off, his classification as Silly Sandgrouse’s “friend” stamped on everything from his badge to hispaychecks.
“Being part of Tildy’s human entourage really pays,” Eddie had said once recently, holding up his check. “To think the poor girl has tobuyfriends despite all the fans shehas.”
Nolan had thought about inviting Eddie and Jo to come with him today, but they didn’t work weekends and no doubt had something more romantic in mind for wiling away their Tildy-freehours.
He could have asked Cheryl or DeShawn or even Angie, who sure could have used it since she had still been freaking out about the grape juice when they’d parted ways, sure the dry cleaning would come out of her paycheck, but as was often the case Sundays, something inside him told him no, this washishour. He needed to be alonetoday.
He’d only been twenty-one half a year, but he’d already gotten into a routine at Thommy’s. It was a very different routine than sneaking into an older friend’s place and sampling their home collection—less fun and more sobering. That was an odd description for drinking in a bar.Sobering.
But it was. Despite the chatter and the soft overhead music, it was the only time he could feel his mind empty, the only time he couldthink.
“The usual?” asked the cute bartender, Claire, as he walked in and sat on his usualstool.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding and returning her smile. She’d slipped him her number once and he’d put it on his phone, but he hadn’tcalled.
Man, he had no idea why he hadn’t called. He hadn’t been with a girl in… It was like a punch to the gut to think about it. Why hadn’t he called? She popped the top off his Coors and parked it in front of him.I should call her, he thought as she stood in the glow of the neon sign behind the bar that highlighted her sharply darkeyes.
The only problem was the question “your place or mine?” always had to be answered with “yours.” And then he had to get back in time to get breakfast for the kids, make sure Willow got on her bus, and take Landon to work withhim.
Well, that was a mood killer.Just thinking about what he’d need to do put a damper on things. That was why he’d never bothered calling her. He could never focus his thoughts on one point, even when a cute girl like Claire stood right in front of him. Nolan thanked her and then purposely stared off to the side at a signed baseball encased in a three-dimensional frame. Claire stepped aside, picked up a cloth, and started wiping someglasses.
“Did I tell you I have a boyfriend now?” asked Claire nonchalantly. Nolan thought he caught something there, like she was trying to gauge hisreaction.
“That’s great,” said Nolan, putting his beer down and cradling it. He smiled. He meant it. It was his fault for being too slow. And besides, he found it actually didn’t bother himmuch.
“Yeah…” said Claire, almost lost in thought. She responded to a guy calling for a top off at the other end of the bar and then made her way back toward Nolan ever-so-casually. “He’s a fireman,” she said, as if he’d asked and there hadn’t been a lull in the conversation. “What about you, hotstuff?”
“What about me?” Nolan ran his thumb over the condensation on his bottle. The coolness felt like a balm to his brain, one that let the tension flow out from hisbody.
She put her hands on her hips, cloth and all. “Are you seeing anyoneyet?”
Shehadasked him if he’d been single that night she’d given him her number a few monthsback.
“No,” said Nolan. He stared at the beer instead of the cute girl. “No time. No energy.” He took anothersip.
“Bullshit,” said Claire. “A man your age canmakethe time.” She picked up another glass. “You’re an odd one,Nolan.”
“You’re not telling me something I don’t alreadyknow.”
Claire smirked. “Odd but nice, not like…” Her gaze drifted around the room and landed on several of her customers. Then she put her elbows on the counter and leaned toward Nolan, giving him such a prime view of her cleavage that he had to immediately and pointedly lock gazes with her eyes instead. She smiled, as if she knew exactly what she’d just done. “Can I ask you to help me out?” shepurred.
Nolan nodded, slowly, not following her. She leaned back and pointed over her shoulder to a dark corner of the bar, where someone—a blonde woman—had her back to them. “She’s been here almost since opening. She’s not being belligerent, but I’ve had to ask her to slow down. Some of the guys have sat down with her and she’s screamed at them to keep moving and… I just want to make sure she’s okay.” She straightened up again. “AndyouI trust to make sure she’sokay.”
Nolan cocked his head, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark gloom of that corner. Hisneedto be alone was eradicated almost the instant he heard she was being harassed. “I can keep an eye on her,” said Nolan, grabbing his beer and walking toward the other end of the bar. He hadn’t meant to sit at her corner booth—just near it, to make sure she didn’t pass out or try to drive away drunk and to leer at anyone trying his luck and heading toward the booth. He understood the need to be alone more thananyone.
Although as he caught sight of her profile and the shapely way she filled out her sweats, a tiny part of Nolan could see exactly why more than one man had tried his luck, all evidence pointing to her wanting to be alone ornot.
“Lilac?” he said out loud before his brain even caught up with what he wasseeing.
She whipped her head around, all fire and fury. Her brow was furrowed, her hair in a bun behind her neck but somehow still mussed, her eyes bloodshot andpuffy.
“Go the fu—” started Lilac, somewhat wobbly even in her seat, but then her facial muscles relaxed. “I know you,” shesaid.
All instincts to respect her need to be alone thrown out the window, Nolan slipped into her corner booth, sitting across from her. “It’s Nolan,” he said. “Lilac, are you okay?” It was a stupid question. She obviouslywasn’t.
“No,” she spat. She didn’t scream at him to go away, just wrapped her hands around her shot glass, which sat next to a half-empty martini. He gazed across the room at Claire. How many drinks had she let her have before she’d cut heroff?
Watching them, Claire nodded and turned, seemingly satisfied that Nolan would do no harm and that Lilac didn’t mind him beingthere.
