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“And a bad liar too.” He kisses my cheek.
I squint, wondering how he knows I’m lying and if I should be mad at him for giving me a chaste kiss that froze my limbs. “You’re wrong.”
“Uh-huh.” He pokes my nose. “When there’s a song playing that you don’t like, you scrunch up your nose.”
I shrug and move away from him as I fear that my traitorous body might do something stupid tonight, something my body might want, but my mind knows better than walking into that territory.
Though, my plan of keeping him away doesn’t work, because as the crowd at the bar thins—thanks to Matt—he has time to chat. “Have you thought about my proposition yet?”
I shake my head.
“Transcribing and editing will supplement your income, Butterfly.” Matt starts his campaign. “Yes, it might be a tedious gig as I don’t type my shit. Which means you’re going to do so and then edit. You’ll be the first to know Wyatt’s fate, and… even have an input on what happens next. Plus, the pay is awesome.”
“Decker, order up.” Reed slams his hand on top of the bar. “T, another whiskey sour. The guy who ordered it said that he has a tab open with you.”
I scan the area and soon meet Mr. Whiskey Sour’s eyes. The serious face remains, but his eyes smile at me. My heart swells because my gut feeling tells me that this man doesn’t smile often or easily.
“Yeah.” I busy myself preparing it for him.
This is his second of the night. I’m glad to know he won’t go home drunk and desperate as he did some weeks ago. I don’t blame him. There have been times that life was better if I didn’t face it… until I woke up from the haze and realized everything was worse than before I consumed my weight in alcohol.
After handing Reed the drink, I start closing one of the registers as the clock above the shelves reads one forty-five.
“Hmm, he made it,” Matt says, crossing his arms. I follow his line of vision, and he’s staring at the guy who I just made the drink for. Tristan, I think, is his name.
Ah, he’s here for Matt. No wonder he smiled, a smile directed at Matt and not me as I thought.
“Hot date with the handsome suit?”
Matt shakes his head.
I look at him suspiciously. “But you know him?”
“Nah, I don’t date, remember? If I ever do…” He flashes me that smirk, adding one of his best weak-knee winks. “I’ll ask you first, or the three of us can go together.” He burst into laughter and walks away.
I follow him. “Sometimes, I don’t understand your jokes.”
He opens his mouth and closes it. After taking a deep breath, he says, “Tristan is a friend and potential business partner.”
Something about the way he says it doesn’t settle well, but I don’t ask.
“Let’s finish the few customers we have left and clean up so you can head home soon. If you behave, I might introduce you to thehot suit. You two are going to like each other, I hope.”
But maybe I should say no because what if Tristan’s darkness pushes me back to the bad place. I don’t think I’ll be able to come out of there—not again.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Tristan
“Tristan,this is Reed, the owner of this fine establishment.” Matthew introduces me to the gray-haired man who’s been busting his ass all night long, along with the bartender chick. “Reed, meet Tristan Cooperson. He owns several nightclubs and bars in the California area and Oregon.”
“Nice meeting you.” I look around the place.
The “fine establishment” has seen better days. I didn’t graduate from college, but after three years of education and many classes to major in engineering, I learned enough to recognize a building with structural damage. The cracks on the walls are the tip of the iceberg. The entire building should be rehabilitated, not just renovated. “How long have you been in business?”
“My father opened it back in the late seventies. He died ten years later. Instead of selling, I quit my day job and continued his legacy.”
He sighs, shakes his head, and smiles at the picture hanging next to the failing shelves. It’s a picture of a younger version of himself and an older man who looks a lot like him.
