AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mesmerized, I watch as Jones slides back behind the bar, fixing me a drink and serving his other customers in the process. He moves with grace as he mixes drinks and pours beers. The bar isn’t busy, but there are a handful of people hanging out tonight.
It’s only Thursday, but I’m sure this place will be jam-packed in a few hours, people wanting to start their holiday weekend with an adult beverage. Or two.
After dropping my drink in front of me, Jones excuses himself and slips into the kitchen for a few minutes. Snagging the menu, it only takes me a second to decide what I want to eat.
Fried pickles.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had them, ordering them at a few places in Denver before giving up. None of them compared, not even remotely, to the ones they serve here. With all the changes to this place, I hope that’s not one of the things they’ve “improved” upon over the years.
As I place the menu back, I notice a flyer sitting just out of reach. Standing on the rungs of the stool, I get it between my fingertips just as the rung breaks beneath my feet.
Shit!
How am I going to explain this to Jones? It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened. My chair, at our table in the corner, is the prime example. After I broke the rungs on two of the four chairs at that table, I wasn’t allowed to sit in any other chairs. Those were my only options. Becky didn’t want me destroying all the furniture.
I still stand by the fact that they were old. They were fragile. I barely weighed a buck twenty back then. There was no way it was my fault those broke.
This stool, the one that I’m sitting on that still has a new leather smell to it, is a different story.
With Jones still in the kitchen, I focus my attention on the flyer. It’s for the Independence Day celebration here in town tomorrow. Two bands, a huge picnic, fireworks, the whole shebang. The town really has grown since I left. I don’t remember them doing anything like this before.
“Are you coming down tomorrow night?” Jones asks, sliding a basket in front of me. As the smell assaults me, I want to jump across the bar and pull him into my arms.
Fried pickles.
“I’m guessing by the look on your face that you’re happy with my little surprise.”
“You have no idea,” I say, picking up a slice before smothering it in ranch dressing. I know better than to take a bite yet. The juice from the pickle will scorch the roof of my mouth, but I can’t help myself. Shoving the breaded pickle in my mouth, I take a giant bite and let out a moan.
When I realize the pickle doesn’t burn my mouth, I give Jones a questionable look. “I made sure to wait a few minutes before I brought them out. I knew you wouldn’t be able to show any self-control.”
Rolling my eyes, I take my next bite, shoving food in my mouth so I don’t have to answer his question. He’s standing in front of me, watching me eat, waiting for me to answer him. I’m not going to be able to avoid the conversation.
“So Saturday night? We can celebrate your return.”
“My parents are throwing a huge party for my mom’s fiftieth birthday. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it down.”
“Double trouble. Party at your place and then the festivities.” His suggestion causes me to shudder in fear.
Lola. She’s all I can think about.
He can’t meet her. He’ll be able to see through all my lies.
Not to mention, Jones has never been to my house. Wyatt’s only been there twice. It was too dangerous to have them over back then. My parents would have asked questions and expected answers. Carmen would have seen them, and I wouldn’t have been able to hide my relationship with Wyatt any longer.
“Maybe I can meet you down here Sunday for the picnic.”
Before he can reply, Jones is called away but another customer. I quickly finish my pickles, chug my drink, drop some cash on the bar and slip out the front door. I thought about leaving my phone number, I have questions that only he can answer, but decided against it.
Against my better judgment, I walk past my car and head down to the park. There are still people milling around, setting up for this weekend. The sun is setting, street lights blinking to life above. A chill runs up my spine as I turn back toward the bar, ready to head home and face my parents.
Once Lola is here, they’ll be on their best behavior. They always are in front of her. They dote on her, treat her like a princess. And she loves them for it. After all, they’re the only grandparents she’s ever known.
