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“Well that sounds…” I trail. “Exciting?”
“Shut up,” she laughs. “He’s not much of a club scene kinda guy like you are. So we keep it low key.”
“That’s ok. First off, I don’t need to be replaced in your life so you keep it low key all you want. Second off, I’m happy to serve him all night,” I waggle my eyebrows and stick out my tongue just as Spencer’s hand shoots out and grips the muscle between her index finger and thumb, narrowly missing my tongue ring.
“Oww,” I mumble, trying to pull away as she yanks me forward until our faces nearly touch.
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself, Cole,” she hisses as she releases my tongue and I back up, chuckling.
“Ouch, Spence, what was that for?”
“I’ve seen how you look at him! It’s been going on for months now.”
“Okay?” I shrug, giving her a questioning look.
“I love him, and he has something going on that doesn’t involve you. Don’t go making things messy.”
“Come on, when have I ever made anything messy?”
Rolling her eyes at me, she brushes past me and slides out from behind the bar.
“I haven’t known you to. In fact, you’re the most reliable, stable, sweet person I know… but I also know that this entire situation has mess written all over it. So just, find someone else. Anyone else.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Promise?” she raises a hesitant eyebrow at me.
“Scout’s honor.”
“You were a boy scout?”
“No,” I laugh.
Spencer rolls her eyes at me for probably the tenth time tonight, and I just smirk. Pouring tequila in a shaker, I shake up the margarita, pour it into a glass, and slide it over to Spencer before I move on to cleaning the used pint glasses in the sink below the bar.
It’s a weeknight, so it’s just me for the rest of the evening. We don’t get a ton of traffic on Tuesday nights, so we really didn’t need all hands on deck. Most of the newer staff does double duty bartending at Afterlife - the strip club that Spencer’s boyfriend Travis owns - so I’ve gotten used to closing up myself these days. I actually don’t mind it. There’s not really much else going on in my world anyway. I work, sometimes I club hop with Spencer - well less since Travis rolled back into the picture - and I work on my art.
I ended up in Havok Hills a couple of years ago after a massive falling out with my family. How I ended up in Havok Hills specifically, I’m not even sure. With the amount of us who have gravitated here, I can safely say, something about this city attracts lost souls like moths to a flame. I was only supposed to be passing through, but I came in for drinks and Rico’s just felt like home. Rico was hiring barbacks, and I needed some sort of income, so it all just kind of happened. One of those right places at the right time kind of things. Once I turned 21, I started tending bar, and it’s all history from there.
As far as everyone here is concerned, I’m just the laid back guy. The one who goes with the flow, is full of love for everyone, and always upbeat. I’m the one with a “normal” background, which I’m guessing they assume because I do still have some semblance of a relationship with my mom. They don’t know how shitty it all really is though, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with being everyone’s rock.
From the outside, I guess I’ve always had a nice life, but it’s only surface deep. Born in the upscale suburbs of Silversun Valley, the only child to a stay-at-home mom, and a prestigious defense attorney father, my life was planned out from the uterus. Set in stone. I’d play football, go to law school, marry the daughter of his career-long law firm partner, have 2.5 kids, a Golden Retriever, and a giant house in a gated community.
Nothing I wanted for myself ever mattered. My entire life was spent crushed beneath the weight of his expectations, and all I ever did was disappoint him at every turn.
Never an athlete, I’ve been an artist all my life. Sure, dad bought me footballs, but I traded them for canvas and acrylic paints. Did I think painting would earn me some spectacular income? Or even pay the bills? Of course not, I never intended for it to, but it’s a passion not a paycheck. I’m perfectly happy just scraping by bartending, so I can spend my free time doing what I love. Bringing some kind of beautiful into this broken world.
It was hard enough for my dad to swallow the fact that I was never going to be the ideal star-athlete son. It was even harder for him to accept things when I turned down the law school path, but I think he believed he would at least be able to talk me into business school. Then I decided to take a gap year. Then another gap year. Then one day he caught me in the hot tub, deep throating the dick of a guy I was dating, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. That was when the final threads of patience he had left for me all began to unravel.
I’ll never forget the look in his eyes that day. He didn’t speak a single word, but his eyes said enough to cut me so deeply that I’ve never recovered. I’m not sure what kind of reaction I expected out of him, but when he disowned me and refused to ever speak to me again? That’s something I didn’t see coming. Not by a long shot.
I guess I always assumed somewhere in there he would love me no matter how much of a disappointment I was. Jokes on me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I dry the last glass. Setting it down on the bar-top I pull my phone from my pocket and unlock the screen.
Mom: We missed you over the holidays baby.
Me: You*
