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Speak of the devil…
GABE BABYYYYY
where r u
u better be inside nd not sitting all pathetic in ur car, tryin to talk urself out of it just cuz im not there to slap u
Chuckling to myself, I shake my head and thumb out a response.
Just parked, drama queen. Heading in now
Not for the first time, I wish Gabe could’ve come home with me. If not for the summer, at least for a couple days. This would’ve been so much easier if he was here with me. Tonight especially. But his sister’s getting married tomorrow, so he had to go straight home to Pittsburgh.
uh huh. I no u. stop overthinking. U look hot as always. go inside.
Huffing, I send him a middle finger emoji. To which he responds back with a kissy face.
give blue eyes a big smooch for me ??
I will kill you
??????
Another one quickly comes in.
Uve got this, babe.
Nd remember if things turn rank u could always leave nd come be my date for Jen’s wedding!!!
Snorting, I tap out my response.
nah, i don’t wanna set the bar too high for the next guy you bring home
welll snap. nd there he isssss, ladies nd gentlemen ????
now take that sweet (s)ass of yours inside (see wut i did there) nd show em all theyve been missing
SLAY, KING! kisses! ????
I huff a laugh under my breath, and thumb out a ttyl. Locking my phone, I pop an Altoid in my mouth, cinnamon bursting on my tongue. And give my reflection one last look.
“Slay, king,” I murmur.
When Mason first told me he and Waylon started a band, I was shocked.
Not only had he not touched an instrument in years—as far as I knew—but even just listening to music seemed to be some kind of trigger for him.
Color me even more shocked when he told me a couple months ago that he, Waylon, and Shawn—the guy he met in rehab who came to live with them, and is also part of this so-called band of theirs—moved out of Sherry’s and into the apartment above Gavin’s bar…
Where they also now work.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Mason says over the phone. “But it’s actually cathartic in a way. Bartending. I don’t know how to describe it. And it keeps me busy. Keeps both of us busy.”
Shawn, my mind supplies. Because he’s a recovering addict too.
“Gavin’s been wanting to cut back hours, and Marty’s been flaking on him more than usual lately, and Sid wants to retire…” he goes on, referring to the bartenders who were working for Gavin previously. “He thinks it’ll be good for us. Obviously, he won’t be leaving us alone anytime soon, but he’s giving us a chance to prove we can handle it. Plus, we’d be living upstairs for dirt cheap.”
“Didn’t you tell me not too long ago that Way and Shawn were seconds from killing each other? How is moving into an even smaller space and working together gonna help with that?”
