Tailspin (Better Than You) (8 page)

              She shrugs her shoulders. Joshua goes back to writing, clearly ignoring this conversation. “It’s a cool place. One of the girls in my Chem class works there and said she makes super good money.”

              “You don’t need the money, though. I could have given you a job at the bar.”

              “Yeah, in the office or something. I don’t want to be sitting behind a desk for hours. I want to be out front, talking to people and stuff. I’m good at that.”

              She’s right. I would insist she stay away from the alcohol and the creeps who come around. The wine bar is a different demographic, though, so maybe it won’t be so bad. “Alright, but we ride there together when we can and I’ll drop you off and pick you up when we can’t. Okay?”

              She nods excitedly and smiles. “That’s fine.”

              “Josh, are you gunna get a job at a bar, too?”

              He laughs. “Yeah, I’ll follow in the family footsteps. Bartenders for life.”

10

February 18, 2009

              I’m irrationally excited to get to the bar and refuse to admit the reason. I barely know Logan, didn’t spend more than an hour with her, but I keep replaying everything she said and the way she moved over and over again. She puts up this front, like she’s impervious to the world and the rejection I should have offered, but there’s something in her eyes that says otherwise. I doubt anyone has ever noticed it. I don’t know how
I
did.

              I’m ready to leave the house except for the fact that I can’t find my phone. I can never find the fucking thing. There’s so much to do and I need to get it done before Logan gets there but I can’t. Find. My. Fucking-

             
Beep. Beep.

              And it’s right on the counter, where I left it this morning. I jog over, pick it up and slide my fingertip across the screen. I have two text messages; one from Danny inviting me to yet another party and one from Emily letting me know that she has a shift tonight and will be home soon. Ignoring Danny, I type out a quick response to Emily and then throw my phone back on the counter. She walks into the house not even five minutes later, while my head is in the refrigerator and I’m debating between a left over Publix sub or frozen macaroni and cheese.

              “Sorry I’m late class ran over I’ll just be a sec.” I turn around to yell at her, but she’s already running upstairs. I never knew Emily had the capability to
just be a sec
when she’s getting ready, but true to her word, she runs back down the stairs a few minutes later. “Ready?” she asks, like I’m the one holding us up.

              “I have so much shit to do, Em. You have no idea.”

              “I’m super nervous for tonight, Nathan, but I’ll be alright. Thanks for asking.” She rolls her eyes and stalks out of the house. I sigh heavily and follow behind her. Once in the car, she cranks up the radio and we ride downtown in silence.

              “I’m sorry,” I say when the car is parked. “I should have asked. You shouldn’t be nervous, though. You’ve been around bars since forever.” I wink and she laughs.

              “You’re right, but what if they don’t like me? A lot of people think I’m…over the top.”

              “Well, you
are
over the top, but I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like you because of it.” I smile and grab her shoulder. “You’ll be great, okay? If anyone gives you a hard time, just let me know and I’ll…” I slide my finger across my throat.

              She rolls her eyes and says, “My hero,” as she opens the door and steps out of the car. “I’ll come by when I’m done.”

              While she walks away, I’m wondering if I should have said something about the fact that her shirt is kind of short and her pants are way too tight. That’s something a parent is supposed to do, right? I mean, she is twenty now, so maybe it’s not my place? I don’t know.

              The bar is empty when I walk in, even though we’ve been open since noon. Kait is wiping glasses behind one side of the bar, Georgia is rearranging the drink board and Bridget is leaning against a table, phone in hand. “Bridget. Really?”

              She slides the phone into her back pocket and smiles at me. “Sorry, Nathan. It’s just been dead in here for a while.”

              “I’m sure there are things that need to be done,” I say, trying not to sound like an asshole manager but seeing no way around it. “Actually, if you guys wanna come back to the kitchen with me, I want to show you some of the new appetizers we’ll be rolling out next week.” I stop and think. “How long has it been dead, Kait?”

              She glances at the clock on the wall. “Over an hour, at least. And before that it was pretty slow.”

              “Let’s close up for a while, then. We’ve got things to do, ladies.”

~~

              Feeling somewhat accomplished, I walk out of the kitchen and almost run into the back of Georgia, who’s staring at the front door. My eyes follow and I see Logan, black shirt and jean shorts, her impossibly long legs on display. I smile and avert my eyes, hoping she didn’t catch my slow perusal. “Logan, you made it,” I say, pushing past the girls. “Let’s go ahead and show you where everything is.”

              She shifts, looking uncomfortable, and as I get closer to her, I notice something’s wrong. The left side of her face is puffy, like she’s been crying, but I know that’s not what it’s from. I know what a busted jaw looks like. Quickly, without even meaning to, I search the rest of her, only just noticing the scars on her arms and the jagged line on her temple. It looks like she’s been through hell. My blood starts to boil with anger. Someone has done this to her;
is
doing this to her. The silence of the bar hits me then and I look behind me to find the girls stuck in the same spot. “Go make sure everything is ready for tonight,” I say, and they disperse in a burst of movement.

              Dull sounds from the TV break into the stifling silence and I turn my eyes back to Logan’s face. There are a million questions I want to ask, but none that won’t scare her away, so I settle with, “Do you want to talk about how you got that?” There. Now the ball’s in her court.

              She shrugs, but it’s unnatural, as if she’s practiced that move in the mirror. “Just clumsy.”

              “I’m gunna call your bullshit and raise you another question.” I take a deep breath. “Do you
need
to talk about how you got that?”

              She lets out a short breath, almost like a laugh. “Look, I’m sorry I showed up with this,” she says, gesturing to her face, “but it won’t happen again. And I won’t let it interfere with my work.”

             
Is she crazy?
“I’m not worried about either of those things, Logan. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

              She smiles wide, the skin of her bottom lip pulling tight against the swelling. “Perfect,” she says and I know the conversation is over.

              I rub a hand over my face and turn towards the bar.
There’s nothing I can do
, I repeat over and over again, even though I can envision myself finding Danny and ending his pathetic life. Or at least fucking it up a little. It’s been a while since I’ve hit someone. Years of football and the academy will never let me forget how it feels, though. Now I’m craving it. I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. “Welcome to My Friend’s Place.”

              Logan’s eager to learn and does it quickly. In just a few hours she’s serving simple drinks and cleaning up behind Kait like she’s been doing it her whole life. It occurs to me that she’s not even of drinking age and is entirely too comfortable around alcohol. This should concern me, and I guess it does since I noticed it, but I’m more concerned about the bruising on her face and the way the guys have been checking out her ass and legs all night long. I’ve never wanted to hit so many people in my life.

              The bar continues to fill up and I’m finding it harder and harder to keep my eyes on Logan. I end up behind the counter serving drinks to barely dressed girls and douchebag guys. There are times I think I might get the chance to hit a few of them, but then the situations diffuse and I’m left standing next to Rico, the bouncer, feeling let down. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but looking for a fight isn’t normal.

              This is when I realize that, despite the fact that I’ve known her for all of two days, and ignoring that she’s a conflict of interest, Logan has gotten underneath my skin.

11

March 13, 2009

              This girl couldn’t be any more obvious if she tried. Her tits are huge, her hair is blonder than blonde, and surprisingly she doesn’t seem to have a speck of makeup on. There’s no question in my mind that she’s hot, but the moment she begins to twirl her hair and lean over the bar, I lose any interest that may have been garnered by her half naked body. I hear a burst of laughter and I look across the bar to find Georgia, Kait and Logan watching the blonde.

              “What are you doing later?” she asks, but I can barely hear her over the noise of the bar, much less over the thoughts running through my head. Pretending not to have heard her, I place the bottle of vodka back on its shelf and hand her the fruity drink I just threw together. Why is it that girls insist on ordering fucking fruit baskets? Not only do they make everything sticky when they spill them everywhere, but they suck to make.

              “Do you want to start a tab?” I ask, trying my hardest to be patient.

She pulls a wad of cash out of the cup of her bathing suit and places a twenty on the bar. “Keep the change,” she says. I watch her walk away, not because she has a nice ass or anything but because she just threw me a fifteen dollar tip. I throw the twenty in the jar and look back over to where Logan is serving. She looks uncomfortable, maybe annoyed. Probably both. I abandon my post and walk towards her. In the month that she’s been working here, we haven’t talked much outside of work. While the other girls sometimes hang around before or after their shifts, Logan’s in and out, always right on time and never here a second later. Most of the time she avoids eye contact but I haven’t stopped trying to get her to talk to me. There haven’t been any visible bruises on her recently, but I have a feeling it doesn’t mean anything.

When I reach her, I lightly touch her side, feeling her ribs underneath my fingertips.
She’s too thin.
“You okay?” I yell into her ear. It’s too loud in here for normal conversation.

“Fine!” she answers too quickly. I know she’s not fine. I could feel how her body flexed against my touch, how it instinctively pulled away, as if to protect itself.

“If you need a break just let me know,” I say, hoping she’ll at least look me in the eye and tell me she’s okay.

“I said I’m fine!” She slams the drink she just finished making in front of the little brunette across from her. The girl sends Logan a death glare and walks away without tipping. In spite of the situation, I smile. Just a little.

“If you don’t scare them away, they tip a lot better!” She doesn’t even respond to that, but I see how her shoulders have stopped moving, like she’s not breathing. Without thinking, I grab her arm and spin her around to face me. For a second, I think I’m being too forceful. The last thing I want to do is remind her of Douchebag Danny, but there’s just something about her that makes me lose control of my carefully crafted self. “Tell me the truth,” I demand, and this time she meets my eyes.

“Nathan,” she says, sounding like a scolding mother, “We have a bar packed full of people wanting drinks! This isn’t the time for truth or dare!” She bites her lip, which is her tell. It lets me know that she has more to say, so much more, and all I have to do is just push a little harder. I have a feeling no one has ever taken the time to dig. I open my mouth to speak again when a shrill voice calls my name from across the bar. To my left, Bridget is standing on top of the bar and waving her hands around like a crazy bitch.

“Give me a hand, would ya?” she yells.

I look at Logan, then back to Bridget, then to Rico parting the crowd, and then at Logan again. “This isn’t over!” I tell her before walking away.

The fight takes a little more effort than I thought it would to diffuse, even with Rico the Giant helping. Some guys seem to gain hulk-like strength under the influence of alcohol. I glance back over at Logan and see her back to making drinks, so I make my way over to my side of the bar.

When it’s really busy and you’re making so many drinks that you can’t take a second to breathe, the last thing you want to do is stop in the middle of the flow. It messes with the continuity of take order, pour, squirt, pass. It’s a perfectly set sequence that can be matched and paced every single time. Usually, at least. I keep finding that flow being disrupted by my wandering eyes, always glancing over at Lo to make sure she’s where she’s supposed to be. I don’t if it’s because I really do care about her or if it’s because I don’t trust her. Maybe a little bit of both.

The next time I scan for her, I find her talking to a girl with short blonde hair. I can’t really see her face from this angle, but after a moving back a few steps, I finally see it. And I freeze, because I know exactly who she is and I’m pretty sure she knows who I am, too. Sam says something to Logan and she laughs. This can’t be good.

“Hello! Can I get a drink?”

Another half-dressed girl orders another fruit basket, but at this point my sequence is completely thrown off. I make her drink, spilling some of that sticky shit a few times, and then push it into her hands. I don’t even take the time to ask if she wants to start a tab. I’m looking for  Logan but I can’t find her and suddenly it’s like my heart is going to explode. Kait intercepts me just as I’m about to jump over the counter to enforce a rescue mission.

“Chill, Nathan, she just went to pee,” she says with a smug smile.