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Actually, that same thought has run through my head countless times today.
And I have to ask myself,Why the heck did I sign up to deal with drunk people?
But then I remember how much money I’ve been making off these loud, rowdy, obnoxious crowds during my weekend shifts. And I decide I need to suck it up and plaster on a smile. Or don’t. Because honestly, the drunks don’t seem to care either way. As long as I keep their cups filled, they are content.
Forcing myself to stand, I stretch, yawning once before I head back inside. Sleep hasn’t been an easy thing to find, and I’m tired. But if I play my cards right, I could be out of here in as little as an hour and a half. And that would be great because I’m peopled out, and a sleeping pill and my bed sound splendid right about now.
When I walk inside, my ears are met with the screeching of the sound system. It’s a rocking Saturday night, the hockey team won their game an hour ago, and the campus is here to party.
The sight of Link Sterns and a few other players strutting in sends me into a panic. It’s been over a week since I last saw Brody, and I’m not ready to face him just yet.
Annie appears, spotting me immediately, and she waves like a maniac before rushing over.
“Hello, lover!” she chimes. “Long time no see. How goes it?”
I laugh, shaking my head at her dramatic greeting. We saw each other in class this morning.
“Not too bad,” I say, filling a glass of beer and sliding it to a dude on the other side of the counter. “You must be coming from the game,” I tease her, knowing Annie hates anything sports-related. Including athletes.
“Hell no.” She scowls. “If I didn’t promise a friend we’d get drinks here tonight, my ass wouldn’t even be in this bar with this many hockey players present.”
“Yo, sweet cheeks, bring me a shot,” someone barks an order out in my direction, but I continue looking at Annie.
“I hear you,” I tell her. “Hockey players can be a little much for sure.” I widen my eyes. “Try being the new photographer for the team. Talk about being particular on their beauty shots.”
“Did you not hear me? Bring me a drink. I don’t have all fucking night,” the voice chimes again, and I sigh.
“Sorry, I’d better go get whatever asshole that is a drink.”
“Yeah, a drink of poison,” Annie mutters, glancing down the bar at the culprit. “I’d tell him to pound sand. Egotistical asshole.”
“Trust me, I’d love that. But I need this job.”
“Modeling can’t paythatbad.” She pauses. “Or does it?”
“I didn’t take this job only for the money. I just like to stay busy.”
Eyeing me over, she eventually nods. “I get that. Well, I’ll leave you to your asshole customers. But if you need me, holler. I’ve got a Taser in my pocket, and I’m not afraid to use it.” Smiling, she turns and all but skips away.
Once I’ve gotten the douchebag a drink and I have a second to breathe, I feel him here. Brody. I know that if I looked in the corner booth, there Brody would be. Because my entire body is so aware of the fact that he is in the same room as I am. And I can’t look at him. So, instead, I stand here, wondering if he’s drinking and forgotten all about our pact.
Continuing to work, smiling when absolutely necessary and filling drinks, I push through. And I never spare a glance in the direction of the hockey players. Thanking my lucky stars that they aren’t in my section tonight.
Spraying some Lysol on the counter, I wipe it down with a rag before moving on to sweeping behind the bar. Club 83 is closed, but that’s not stopping the dozens of students from hanging out. Making it impossible for me to leave.
“Bria?” a deep yet kind voice says from behind me.
Turning, I’m met with the sweet eyes of Watson Gentry, Brooks’s goalie.
“Hey, Watson.” I tip my chin up before continuing to sweep.
He looks nervous. And the fact that this big, tough man seems uncomfortable is funny to me. Heck, I swear he’s even blushing. During our last team photo shoot, he was the same way. But out of all the men, he has to be one of the sweetest.
“The pictures you took are badass. I couldn’t believe O’Brien when he said we were the first hockey team you’d done this for. You’ve definitely found your thing.”
“Oh, yeah? My thing?” I raise an eyebrow.
Taking the stool in front of where I stand, he sits down, grinning as his cheeks burn red. “Yeah, you know, your thing. The thing that you’re good at.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “Your…passion. Or whatever you want to call it.”
