Follow You Down (2 page)

I roll my eyes while pulling on my cowboy boots. My mother watches way too much entertainment TV. “Mom, everyone makes Taylor Swift cry.”

She laughs and I can tell by the way her voice raises at the end, she is already a little drunk. “I guess you’re right. Can you imagine how terrible it would be if she dated that Beaver kid? Ugh, there would be terrible breakup songs everywhere. Lord help us.”

Beaver kid? I’m full out laughing at her while tears spring up in my eyes. “Are you drunk right now, Gail?”

She shoots her eyebrows up and shakes her empty glass. “I might be. Your father is getting lucky tonight!”

I am not laughing anymore. “Sweet Christ, Mom, really? TMI! I don’t need to know that!”

“Dani Gail, I have seen you dance naked to “Pour Some Sugar on Me”; we are past the point of TMI!”

As disturbing as what she’s saying is, she’s right.

“Mom, do you think our family’s a little dysfunctional?”

“Of fucking course it is! Our dysfunctions are what bond us together. Every family has some dysfunctions; some just choose to work hard to hide them. But in this family, we parade them around for everyone to see. You know, like that old song, ’Dysfunction junction what’s your function?’ she sings the line horribly off key while using the wrong words.

“Mom, the song says ‘conjunction junction’ and that is a kid’s song used to teach grammar, not justify our fucked up family. You really need to lay off the sauce because I have to go to work and you have at least three more hours until Dad z+ home. At this rate, you’re going to pass out before happy hour even officially starts.”

“Dani, every hour of my life is happy hour, you know that!” She laughs at her own joke for a few moments before regaining her composure. “Have fun at your first night of work! Make friends and don’t drink and drive. If you need a ride home, just call me.”

I sigh. She always says that to me before I leave to go anywhere. I wish it were as easy as just calling for a ride now, but it’s not.

“Oh yeah, Mom, you’re hours away, of course I will call you when I get off work after midnight to come get me. That makes total sense.” My voice is laced with sarcasm, and I instantly regret it when I see her drunken smile turn into a very sober glare.

“Now you listen here, Dani Gail, you could be in fucking Canada and need a ride home at midnight and I would come get you. I’m your mother; I’ll always come get you.” Her stern look turns into a sad smile.

Moments like this, I really wish I had just stayed in Dallas, but I need a fresh start where no one knows who I am or the past I have. Unfortunately, getting a fresh start means leaving behind parts of my life that I desperately want to keep, like polishing silver with my mother.

“I know, Mom. I’m just nervous about work tonight, and I miss you.”

She sighs slightly and wipes away the tears I see coming from her eyes. “I miss you too, Dani. But I know you will do great tonight. Just don’t stress, be yourself, and call me when you wake up tomorrow. I love you, baby girl.”

I smile at her and dry my eyes, trying not to ruin my mascara. “I love you too, Mamma. Tell Daddy I love him, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I wave at her as I shut off my laptop and close it. I take one last long look at myself in the mirror to inspect my outfit once again.

My clothes still look too tight, but paired with my favorite red cowboy boots, I think the look works for me. I’m not wearing a lot of makeup, so my freckles are showing, and my bright, red hair is in a high ponytail. I grab my purse and head toward my front door, smiling as I pass the picture of my mother and me hanging in the hallway.

I lock the door behind me, pulling it shut as I walk out.

Well, here goes nothing.

Wanna know something about bartending? It’s fucking hard, especially when I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I have to keep looking up recipes on my phone. I am seriously stressing out. Every time I ask someone what their order is, I am secretly praying they just ask for beer or whisky; the only two things I know about.

Two of the waitresses take the time to try to help show me the ropes and where everything is, even helping make drinks when I start falling behind.

The waitresses, Molly and Wynee, are obviously best friends, even though they appear to be polar opposites.

Molly is gorgeous in the classic 50s pin up sort of way, curvy, pale skin, dark hair. She has the attention of every male in the bar but doesn’t know it, especially the cute guy sitting at one of her tables. I think Wynee said his name was Logan, and the guy sitting with him is her boyfriend, Justin. Wynee is what you could call unconventionally beautiful. Her hair is short and blond and she is covered in tattoos, but she totally pulls it off. She has an edgy attitude that perfectly matches her demeanor.

“So, Geo just threw you to the wolves, huh?” I glance up from my third attempt at an amaretto sour and see Molly popping the top on a few beers and placing them on her tray.

I laugh nervously, “I think he was under the impression that I’ve done this before. Obviously, he was fucking wrong.” I realize I have fucked up the drink I’m trying to make, and pour it down the sink. God only knows how much liquor I am wasting tonight.

Molly must be able to see my agitation growing because she grabs a glass and makes the drink for me while giving instructions. Seriously, she should be the one bartending, not me.

“Thank you. I seriously suck at this. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize; it’s really not your fault. Geo doesn’t believe in training. He wants to see if you can hang, so he throws you in head first. At least he didn’t make your first shift on a busy night. That would have been rough.”

I glance around the bar where every stool has an ass on it and almost every table is full. I look back at her, raising my eyebrows. “So you’re telling me this isn’t busy?” I’m sure I look terrified because she laughs while shaking her head.

“Seriously, don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it; I swear.”

I don’t believe her at all, but I play along, not wanting to make this girl I barely know deal with my stress.

I’m taking another customer’s order when I catch her staring at my boots. I just know she’s going to ask why the fuck I have red cowboy boots, everyone does. Honestly, I saw Ted wear a pair on
How I Met Your Mother
and decided I had to have some. Most people think they look ridiculous, but I love them.

Molly smiles and nods. “Nice boots. You pull them off way better than Ted does.”

I laugh, and for the first time since I started working tonight, I relax a little. “You just made a
How I Met Your Mother
joke! Seriously, can we be best friends?” Now, Molly is laughing too.

I see Wynee standing behind Molly giving me the evil eye. “Back off, bitch, Molls here is my best friend.”

My smile drops quickly. “Oh, sorry, I was just making a joke.”

“Wynee!” Molly shoves her and laughs uncomfortably. “You’ll have to excuse her. She can be a raging bitch sometimes, but she was just kidding. Right, Wynee?”

“I really was, Dani. Swear. You can have her. In all honestly, after twenty years, she’s starting to get on my nerves.” Wynee laughs and grabs two beers before rounding the bar.

“Wow, y’all have been friends for twenty years?” I look at Molly with a surprised look on my face. Twenty years is a long time, especially since her and Wynee can’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three.

“Yeah, since we were two. She’s a crazy bitch, but she’s my best friend.”

Just then I hear an older guy whistle and say Molly’s name. She smiles apologetically and grabs her tray, heading toward the guy’s table.

Over the next hour or so, I try my best to make the drinks customers ask for, but repeatedly I fail miserably. I watch Molly and Wynee move around the bar with ease, both stopping often to talk to Logan and Justin. From the way Logan is staring at Molly, I’m assuming he’s her boyfriend. He’s cute, and when he smiles at Molly, his dimples show.

Tiffany, the other waitress, hasn’t been as friendly as Molly and Wynee. She has returned almost every drink I’ve made tonight, even the ones I know were right, and has bitched about everything. She’s a pretty girl, but God, she is fucking annoying.

“Can we get some service over here?” Two college age girls are sitting at the end of the bar, one of them waving me down. One is a bottle blonde wearing a pink tube top that barely covers her chest. The other is a dark-haired girl who obviously wears contacts, because no one’s eyes are purple. Neither looks very happy with me right now, and when I see them smile at Tiffany as she walks by, I know why. These are her friends, and they are about to fuck with me.

“Hey, ladies, what can I get y’all?” I lay down a napkin in front of each of them and smile, praying they just want light beer.

“Um, yeah, can I get a mojito and she will take a mango margarita on the rocks.”

My smile wavers slightly, but I hold it together. “Sure, ladies, coming right up.” They both raise their eyebrows at me and laugh before facing each other.

I walk a few feet away and start trying to figure out what the fuck goes in a mojito and a mango margarita. Fuck.

“You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?” My thoughts are interrupted by a deep voice coming from the seat in front of me.

I glance up, finally ready to let my aggression out and tell this guy to fuck off, when I’m met with a dazzling smile and dark blue eyes. This guy is gorgeous. Damn. He has on a worn out LSU ball cap and a tight green t-shirt. His skin has a tan to it that says he spends lots of time outside. His arms are crossed and flexed, and he’s leaning over the counter so his muscles are pushing against the fabric of his shirt. As much as I want to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He doesn’t seem to have cruel intentions with his comment; he actually seems sincere, and slightly amused.

I sigh with defeat. “Honestly, no. I’m fucking lost. I only drink beer and whisky. All this girly shit is new to me.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “A whisky girl, huh? Don’t meet many of those.” He smiles again and my knees buckle slightly. Sweet Lord, he’s fine.

“Well, I doubt you will be meeting me again because I think I’m quitting after tonight. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” I hold up the towel I have hanging over my shoulder and wave it back and forth. “I’m waving my white flag. I give up.”

“Don’t give up, Red.” Did he just call me Red? Of course, with my hair color, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard the nickname, but it’s the first time it’s come out of such a fine mouth. “What would you say if I told you I could help you? I used to bartend and I was damn good. I could give you a few lessons; I’m a great teacher.” Damn it, he’s smiling again and this time my knees buckle enough that I have to brace myself on the bar in front of me.

“What do you get out of helping me? You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right about that, Red. I don’t know you, but I want to. I help you with your bartending skills; you agree to go out with me. Just one date.” He holds up his pointer finger and winks at me.

“A date? Really. I don’t even know your name. Why would I agree to go on date with you?” This guy may be downright fuckable, but I don’t just agree to go on dates with strangers just because they are good looking. I may be a former stripper and mistress, but I have some boundaries.

“My name’s Lucas Wade. You should agree to go out with me because you need the help, but mainly, because I’m a great guy and I can guarantee you will have an amazing time on our date.”

“Well, Lucas Wade, how do I know you’re not some crazy serial killer?”

He laughs and grabs Molly’s arm as she walks by. “Molly, tell your girl here that I’m not a crazy serial killer.”

Molly smiles and glances back and forth between Lucas and me. “Nope, not a serial killer. Narcissist, maybe, but serial killer, no.”

Lucas thanks her as she walks away. “See, I told you, not a serial killer. Now come on, just one date, Red; that’s all I ask. If you hate me after that, I’ll still give you bartending lessons, but I won’t ask you out anymore. I swear.” I should tell him no. I ended up here because of a failed relationship. The last thing I need to be doing right now is going on dates with hot narcissists.

“Um, hello, we’re still waiting for our drinks over here!” Bimbo number one reaches over the bar, waving her hands in the air, while bimbo number two just laughs. I look at Lucas; one of his eyebrows is cocked up slightly. “Well, Red?”

“Ugh, fine! Get your ass back here and help me. But it’s just one date! That’s it! Deal?”

“Deal.” With that one word, he swings himself over the bar in one smooth motion. When he is finally standing in front of me, I can take him in fully.

He’s tall, 6’3 or 6’4, and sculpted. I can see the muscle definition in his legs through his jeans. He has on dark wash jeans and worn out boots. He is fucking delicious.

He must catch me eyeing him up and down because he coughs to get my attention. “Ready for your first lesson?”

My cheeks flush and I feel my mouth go dry, so I just nod, fearing if I try to speak no words will come out.

He walks around me and starts grabbing everything I will need to make the bimbos’ drinks, giving me directions as he goes.