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Chapter 5
BRIDGET
Past
After arriving at The Lotus with Amy and being told that Darren is in a meeting, I decide to say hi to Felipe, the bartender with the friendly smile and about the only person who didn’t treat me like a leper for not wearing an outfit swank enough for the club my first time here.
“Anything ever work out with that hot stockbroker?” I ask Felipe as I straddle a barstool.
Felipe, in the middle of fixing me a Shirley Temple, stops to gush. “OMG, Bryan is the best. We’ve gone out three times since that night you helped set us up.”
“I didn’t set you up.”
“Yes, you did. If you hadn’t talked to that woman and found out he wasn’t on a date with her, I wouldn’t have had the guts to talk to him.”
“I’m glad things are working out.”
“He’s soooo dreamy. I usually hate the way I look in the morning, you know, before I’ve put on a little foundation, but he says I look beautiful.”
I smile. “Sounds like a nice guy.”
He hands me my drink. “So…how are things with you and Darren?”
“Me and Darren?”
“Don’t act all innocent with me. I noticed you going up in the elevator with him last time, and I didn’t see you again before I closed everything down.”
I blush and sip my drink, then decide to confide in Felipe. “He invited me to Phuket. I thought I heard wrong at first. Is that an everyday thing for him?”
Felipe raises his brows. “Not really. JD’s sister is getting married there next week.”
“Going to a family event sounds like a big deal, but I doubt that Darren sees it as serious.”
I try to get a read on Felipe’s reaction but don’t see anything. So I ask, “How long have you worked for Darren?”
“I’ve been here since The Lotus opened.”
“Is he a nice boss?”
“I have no complaints.”
“Anything else I should know about him?”
Felipe, looking down at the bar, doesn’t respond right away.
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell on you,” I assure him.
Felipe still hesitates.
Not wanting my question to dampen our still-young camaraderie, I say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. If I’m just the flavor of the month, I can take it. I’m a big girl.”
He smiles, but it’s an odd smile, like the kind you’d give a kid who asks you if everything is okay when everything is not okay.
“I like your cold-shoulder top,” he says, “though it’s not as memorable as that sweater you wore before.”
“You should see the puff jacket I left in the coat check. It’s pistachio colored.”
His jaw drops.
