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Imanage to shower and change into some obscenely overpriced designer clothes before rushing out of that house. That place reminds me too much of Nolan, and I don’t want to be in there right now, not if I can avoid it.
He’s everywhere. In my head, all around me. I need some space from him if I’m going to figure out what the heck I’m doing in this bizarre contractually bound marriage.
I head to Bottle of Smoke. It’s right at the dinner rush and the place is busy. I find a spot in the corner of the bar, accept a seltzer and lime from Bernie, and settle in to watch the chaos. Ash is back at waitressing alone again, which means she’s totally overwhelmed, but she pauses on her way past me and gives me a surprised frown.
“New outfit?” she asks, pointing at my shoes, eyes scanning up my jeans and blouse. Figures she’d recognize the chic style.
I shrug a little. “A friend of mine bought me some clothes.”
“Right. A friend. Sounds like something a Crowley would do.” Her lips quirk slightly. “You wouldn’t be involved with one of those, would you?”
“Never.”
“Right.”
She turns to leave, but I catch her wrist. “Hey, uh, do you need a hand? If I remember right, I’m pretty good at taking orders.”
“You don’t work here anymore, remember?”
“I know that,” I say, frustrated. “How about it’s just a friend doing a friend a favor?”
She considers me for a long moment. “Keep the tips. I’ll pay you under the table. You’re still in the system.”
“Forget paying me.” I hop to my feet. “Just try to keep up.”
It feels good, falling into my old role again, like I never left it. I’m doing this to help Ash out, but also to having something to keep my brain busy for the next few hours. I hustle around the room, laughing at bad jokes, flirting with the single guys, teasing the married men, running food and drinks. My feet hurt, my back aches, and for a few hours, I don’t think about Nolan. There’s only me and Ash, doing the job, getting the work done until the dinner rush finally lets up, and I notice Jamila sitting in my old seat at the far end of the bar. I let Ash know I’m taking a break now that she’s not overwhelmed.
Jamila nods when I approach and take the stool next to hers. “You looked like you never left,” she comments, drinking some wine. “How’d Ash rope you into helping?”
“I offered. Felt better than sitting around moping all night.”
“What are you moping about?”
“Nothing special. Just got into a fight with my best friend yesterday and that sucked.”
Jamila’s voice softens. “Yeah? What happened?”
“I was a selfish asshole. I’mstilla selfish asshole though, so I’m pretty sure she’s not going to forgive me.”
“Keels, we don’t have to do this. We really don’t.” She slumps slightly, leaning closer. “I want to move on. Maybe getting into business together was a bad idea.”
“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I’m going to pay you back, okay? Everything you put in.”
“Keely—”
“I mean it, every dime, I’m paying you back. I can write you a check right now.” I hesitate, glancing away. “Well, maybe not right now. But definitely tomorrow.”
“Keels, come on. I know you don’t have that kind of money.” Jamila swirls her wine. “I understood the risks when this all started. You’re not giving up, are you? When the business is killing it and you’re flush, then maybe you can think about paying me back. For now, consider my investment a gift.”
“No,” I say, adamant. “I’m paying you back.”
“How?” she asks, spreading her hands. “With what?”
“I married him.”
Those three words seem to bring the entire bar to a halt.
Jamila doesn’t move. Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, she lowers her hands down into her lap, her fingers intertwining. Her knuckles turn white with stress. “You did… what?”
