The Truth About Us (3 page)

"At least if she shoots you, she can pull the bullet out, too." Garett laughs and I follow him into the kitchen. The house is a disaster, but mostly because Riley's at work and his OCD hasn't been around to tell us how disgusting we are.

Garett hands me a beer and slides up onto the counter while I sift through the mail on the table.

A letter from the bank, addressed to my dad, lies on top of the pile, and I groan. Why can't that man fucking pay a bill? I'm tired of taking care of his shit, but still I do it. Opening the letter, it's a past due notice for the loan to make improvements to the bar a couple years ago. The added keg taps and walk-in cooler have increased the selection, and in turn, increased our profit, but apparently that profit was not ending up on the loan.

"You okay?" Garett asks, and I shake my head.

"It's really sad that I'm the most responsible person in my family. I've been to jail..." I smile at the thought, and Garett laughs loudly.

"Super fucking sad, man."

I look at the letter again. I wish I didn't feel like I had to do this. But then I think of Kayla, and the other waitress, Brenda, who has been more of a mother to me than my own mother and I can't force myself to do what I need to do.

I've thought a million times about leaving. Leaving it all behind.

But I know I won't.

I know I can't.

Chapter Three

Sophia

"I can't do this right now, Mom." I breathe heavily into my phone, and my head falls back against the driver’s seat headrest, wishing I hadn't picked up in the first place. I'm parked in front of the bar, about to start my first shift and I'm already nervous. I don't need this from my mother.

"This is absurd, Sophia. I just received a letter from the college there saying you've enrolled in some art program in the fall." My mother's voice is smooth and anyone who didn't know her would think she sounded like any other successful doctor. Friendly, if maybe a little pretentious. I know better. When she uses my name instead of sweetie, or darling or some other equally fucking stupid pet name, it's serious.

"I did enroll, Mom. I'm taking some pottery classes at a community college. I'm not buying a loft, turning vegan, and dropping acid." I attempt the joke, but the silence on the other end of the line is all I need. She's obviously serious.

"Sophia, you pack your things and come home. Your father is threatening to cut off your credit if you don't stop this nonsense and take your LSAT next month like we planned."

"Like you planned." There’s a pain in my forearm, and I notice that I’m clutching the steering wheel so tight that my tendons are pushing through. I've never been this forward with my parents. Not since before our family fell apart two years ago.

"Pardon?"

"Like you planned, Mom. I don't want to be a lawyer."

Silence again. All I hear is the blood rushing, pumping through my ears making me dizzy. All the times I tried to tell her. The words always dying out and being replaced by
yes, Mom. I’d love to follow in my father’s footsteps.
I can’t do it anymore. I can’t lie anymore, but I still don’t know how to tell her the truth.

"Sophia, —" Her voice raises, but I make this thick noise to cut her off.

"I'm late for work. I have to go now."

"You have a job?" The way she says it makes it sound like she doesn’t believe I could get a job anywhere, ever. Not like I have a degree or anything.

"Yeah at a bar. As a bartender."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and I don't want to hear it, so I tap the end button and toss my phone into the passenger seat. My breath comes in fast waves, verging on panic, and I look over to my purse. Tears sting behind my eyes, but I am so fucking sick of crying. I'm so sick of doing what I'm told. I am tired of the guilt that eats up any tiny fragment of confidence I have before I can get my fingers around it. Reaching out I slam the heel of my hand against the steering wheel and it feels good, so I do it again. The bubbling hatred that shreds my insides boils over and I slam the steering wheel over and over again, cursing and screaming and thinking all the things I would love to tell my mother but can't.

After a few seconds, I feel like I'm no longer alone and turn my head to the window. The smirking face of the same guy I saw here yesterday is so close to the window I practically crawl into the passenger seat.

"What the fuck, Dude! Ever hear of privacy?"

He laughs, and I open the door.

"You’re screaming profanities in a car, parked in front of a bar. Not exactly a private spot...
dude
," he says in a half whisper that’s low and sexy.

My cheeks burn, and I realize he's not the only one staring at me. There are a couple groups of people standing outside, smoking or talking, or both, and every one of them is looking at me.

I stand up and straighten the skirt that Tobie lent me because I have no clothes other than jeans and t-shirts. The guy scans my body and holds out a pack of smokes. I shake my head, and he shrugs. “Your first night?” he asks, falling into step with me as I move to the front door. Why is this guy all of a sudden everywhere I am? He must be a regular here.

“Yeah, I’ve never bartended before.”

“Getting rid of nerves? If that display was about your choice to move to this shithole town, to work at this shithole bar, then I totally get it.” He laughs and holds the door open for me, forcing me to duck under his muscled, tanned arm. I wonder why the motion sends a deep tingle across my skin as I pass. I mean he’s just a guy. I lock onto his gaze, assessing his question. A guy I find very attractive.

“Actually, a fight with my mother. The same one we’ve had a million times.” I don’t know why I just said that. I am on lockdown so well that it shocks me when I say anything truthful to anyone. "And this bar is a total shithole. But a job's a job, right?" I add.

He nods, his mouth turning up into this half smile as he holds his hand out to me. “I totally get that, too. I’m Corbin.”

My heart seizes. Corbin. Kayla's words slide through my head as I feel my cheeks heat up.
Corbin's going to love you.
The guy who owns the bar I just called a shithole grins as I struggle to reign in my embarrassment.

I slide my hand into his. The skin is rough and calloused, and I’m convinced it has something to do with the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders.

“Sophia.” It's more of a stutter than a solid word.

His grin spreads wider into a real smile, and I notice his teeth are slightly crooked. “Sophia. Stunning name. It sounds too sweet to be showing so much skin. To proper for this shithole.”  He reaches out and tugs the hem of the thin halter top that doesn’t quite touch the waist of a short, flowing skirt.

I feel my cheeks burn up hotter, but before I can speak, Kayla walks up and slides her hands around Corbin’s waist. “Don’t let this guy fool ya, Sophia. He’s not as charming as he thinks he is.”

She winks at me, and Corbin kisses her painted cheek. Her highlighted hair frames her face in perfect curls and her eyes study me with a hint of suspicion. Her huge blue irises, dramatically done up with makeup, are hard to look away from. Everything about Kayla is larger than life.

“God, dinner rush was so busy, but lucky for you, it's Tuesday so it’ll be you and me testing out drinks and getting wasted.” She leaves Corbin’s side and throws her arm over my shoulders, guiding me to the bar. Corbin calls out behind us.

“I’ll call the guys. We’ll work the new girl.”

I look over my shoulder at him, but he’s already out the door. “Is he your boyfriend?” I ask, and Kayla laughs a shrill laugh.

“Sweetie, I ain’t fifteen. Corbin and I like to fuck. We have nothing in common beyond that,” she says, and I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t.

xxx

I had no idea that bartending would be this hard. There are more than a million different types of alcohol and ten times more ways to mix them together. Cocktails, hi-balls, shots, martinis, daiquiris, margaritas, on the rocks, neat, pressed, clean, and my brain is fried.

Corbin went and got his roommates who’ve ordered every kind of shot, and I run my finger down the sticky drink menu to verify what is in a shot called Wet Panties. Who names these things? Drunk frat boys?

“You’re such a fuckin’ pussy bitch eater, Corb.” One of his roommates yells from across the bar and I look up to where they’re sitting. Yep. Drunk boys name shots. There are five empty glasses in front of them and a guy with shaggy dark hair and thick rimmed glasses is rubbing his face like he’s frustrated. He’s wearing a plaid button down shirt with a long sleeve shirt under it pushed up to show two forearms covered in tattoos. He has broad shoulders like Corbin and the same lopsided smile. I think he’s Garett, but I was introduced to them quickly and then asked to memorize an entire menu. My retention of information has been severely limited.

“Did you just make that up?” Corbin laughs, and so do the other two. He bounces a quarter off the table and it lands in the last glass that has a few gulps of beer in it. “And I personally don’t find that to be an insult.”

Kayla appears over my shoulder, standing unusually close even in a tight space like this. “They are always like this. College boys, minus the college.” She leans next to me and watches me make six shots of something that sounds disgusting, but smells real good.

“What do they do if they don’t go to school?” I ask, and hate that I sound like a child, or worse, like my parents. Kayla laughs.

“They’re like twenty-five, so totally done the school thing. Well all except Corbin. He never went. Jackson’s a cop, but he is still outranked by Ranger, the force drug dog. Riley teaches third grade, and it’s a total panty-melter to watch him with those kids. I fucking hate kids and still think it’s hot. But Riley doesn't hook up. All the girls want him, and he just doesn't care. I swear he has a secret online girlfriend or something. Garett’s the only one that is still in school, kinda. He’s gunna be a lawyer. Got accepted in New York. So he’s starting all over again. I have no idea why. High school was enough for me.”

“The guy who coins the phrase ‘pussy bitch eater’ is going to be a lawyer?” I ask, and Kayla laughs even louder which gets the attention of the guys.

“I guess so. He's actually quite smart; he just doesn’t like to show it.” She shrugs and picks up the tray of shots. “Come on. You can be done for tonight. You’re doing great, Sophia. Sorry you don’t get to meet David today. He should have been in tonight.”

My nose wrinkles. "David? I thought Corbin owned this place?"

She shakes her head. "No, he doesn't. But David's never here, so Corbin does most of the work on top of his day job."

I wipe my hands on the towel and step out from behind the bar, catching up to Kayla. “What does he do?”

“Machinist. He works at the shop a few blocks down. Makes shit out of metal for like trains and tractors or whatever.” She waves her hand and sets the drinks on the table. Corbin grabs her hips and pulls her onto his lap.

“I’m an artist,” he says, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“You’re basically good at fractions and that’s about it.” Garett teases.

“Well I’m about 15/16th’s sure I can beat your ass, so there’s that.”

“Yeah but have you seen that LSAT study guide? That thing is massive.” Riley says, his green eyes laughing. He shoves up the sleeves of his dress shirt and slides the quarter from the table. My heart pumps harder at the sound of
LSAT
as I take a chair between Corbin and Garett, who’s nodding. He has a long face, made even longer by the shaggy hair and stubbly chin, but he’s kinda cute in that trying-to-look-like-he-doesn’t-care way.

They’re all pretty drunk, and I don’t want to talk about law exams right now. Or ever. So I lift up a shot glass, put it to my lips and take the whole thing back. I need to catch up or go home.

Garett slides his arm across my shoulders and shakes me a little. “Atta, girl.”

The old me would have tensed up at the touch, shrugged out from under it, and made some excuse to leave. The new me sees the way Kayla looks between Garett and me like she just discovered the Lost City of Atlantis, and I decide to lean into him, pick up another shot and down it. This is what being young is about, right? Partying, having fun, being wild and sexy. Hooking up with cute guys with completely kissable lips.

Kayla gets up to make another round of drinks, and the guys convince me to join in on their game of quarters which is much harder than it looks. The soft buzz of intoxication floats through my limbs, and I try to back out of the next round.

“Sophia, you’re a goddess at this game,” Corbin smiles at me. “You’ve gotten it in every time. You’re drunk because you just keep drinking. Don’t blame that shit on us.”

Garett reaches over and pats my knee before placing the quarter in front of me. My skin tingles from his touch, or the booze. I don’t know. But he's taken every tiny opportunity to touch me, and it makes me feel good. Wanted.