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I hide my smile in my sip. I’m satisfied with his perception of me. It’s much better than him sensing I want him to rip my clothes off on top of this bar. With anyone else I’m attracted to, I’d make it clear if that's what I wanted. But the way Troy has worked his way into my thoughts–more than just how attractive he is–makes that a big no-go for me. I won’t deny I want the sex, but not until I can get rid of any potential feelings that would complicate it.
“It’s my favorite. My first legal job was waitressing at Pub at Golden Road when I was 18. I worked there until I turned 21 and switched to Shot in the Dark because living on your own in LA kind of costs a lot.” Not that I know any different, but ithasto be cheaper to live somewhere else. If I wasn’t so good at bartending, I don’t know how I’d afford it.
“Yeah, it’s amazing you do it on your own. I’m lucky my cousin owns our condo, and I just pay utilities. How old are you?”
“Older than you.” I’m guessing anyway. He graduated with Maci so I’m assuming he’s 22 as well, so two years younger than me.
His eyes shift toward the couple that just sat a few seats down from me. I nod in their direction.
“When I come back, be prepared to tell me why you clarified it was your first legal job.” He looks at me curiously before grabbing two coasters off the bar and tossing them in front of the new guests.
It’s another half hour before he comes back. The way he works is mesmerizing. Anyone would be lying if they said they weren’t impressed. I pride myself on being able to multitask better than any bartender I know, but I’m not fancy like this. At one point there was a bottle twirling through the air. He caught it perfectly before pouring dark rum floats onto a couple Mai Tai’s. I’m impressed. Or turned on. I don’t know.
Now he has two half full beer glasses next to a couple of shot glasses. He fills them with Amaretto and tops them off with 151 proof rum. He sends a sly wink my way before lighting the shots on fire and dropping them into the beer before pushing them toward the two girls in front of him.
A few minutes later, he’s back in front of me.
“So, tell me about all these illegal jobs you had.”
“I meant under the table. When I was a teenager I did makeup for C-list celebrities for parties and events.”
“Impressive. And your parents let you do that?”
I can’t help my humorless laugh. “Never met my dad. Wish I’d never met my mom. She couldn’t have cared less about what I did.” It’s not a secret my mom is a total deadbeat. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s not my fault. It’s just that not many people know because no one ever asks. That and I don’t like most people enough to share anything personal about myself with them.
There’s always instant pity in the eyes of anyone I confide in, and it drives me nuts. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I manage fine despite my mother’s absentee parenting. One of the reasons Mack is my best friend is because he understands. We are in the crappy parent club together.
When my eyes meet Troy’s, I instantly know by the lack of pity staring back at me that he’s part of the club too. He doesn’t even apologize, which is noteworthy because that’s everyone’s go-to.
I take a slow sip of the new beer he brought me, hoping he doesn’t press further. He doesn’t need to hear about my commitment issues yet.
He takes the hint. It’s like he can sense the type of response I want. “One time, my mom spent her entire welfare check in a day. Half of it she used to get her hair and nails done. The other half she blew on pot. She made like four pans of weed brownies, and since she spent all her money, it was the only food in the house. She was so high–not just on weed–when I asked for dinner, she gave me one.” He chuckles recalling the memory. “I was so excited I got dessert for dinner.”
“Oh my god.” I stare back at him in surprise. “How old were you? What happened?”
“I was ten. I ate the whole thing and snuck another. They were so strong. Luckily the neighbor came over for some reason. He found me sick on the couch and took me to the hospital. They called my uncle who lives here. He flew to Oregon that night.”
“What happened to your mom?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “She didn’t even show up to the hospital. My uncle didn’t let me go home, and she never came looking for me as far as I know. I’ve only seen her a few times since. My uncle stayed for a few weeks and arranged for me to stay with my buddy Cooper and his family.”
“He didn’t want you to move here?”
“Nah. I mean he would have let me, but he figured I’d been through enough and didn’t want to tear me away from my school and friends. He has a cabin a couple hours from Eugene and comes to visit every summer, though.”
“Wow. I’m…” I almost say I’m sorry but catch myself on how little that helps. “Glad you got out of there.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky. Somehow I only ended up a little fucked up. And with a motorcycle. It’s a win if you ask me.” He reaches over for the empty beer glasses from the guests who left and sticks them upside down in the mini dishwasher at the end of the bar.
“How are those two things connected?” My face scrunches in confusion.
“They aren’t really. My uncle helped me buy it. I just wanted to watch you light up again when I talked about my bike.”
I roll my eyes. “When I go to Oregon someday, you owe me a ride for that comment.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t hesitate. Maybe he doesn’t think I’d ever go to Oregon. With Mack and Maci likely ending up back there one day, I’m sure I will, at least to visit.
“I’m holding you to that.”
