He wanted to slam his fist against the bar. “So the lack of naughty shots on my phone is the surest sign that this woman is history,” he said through tight lips, barely wanting to acknowledge the cold hard truth Michele was laying out for him.
She flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Yes, Clay. She’s history. When a woman wants to be with a man, she makes the effort to see him, to call him, to spend time with him. Just as he does with her. She aspires to be honest and upfront. To share her heart. Besides, that’s what you deserve,” she said, and squeezed his arm.
For a second there, it felt as if she lingered on his bicep. But maybe it was the booze making his mind fuzzy. Which reminded him – he needed another drink.
By the time he left, he was pretty damn sure he was buzzed. Walking to the subway stop two blocks away, he changed that assessment as the cabs and cars and lights around him grew fuzzier. He wasn’t buzzed. He was drunk. So drunk, he saw no reason why he shouldn’t text her as he headed down the steps to the platform, reaching for his phone from his pocket, missing it the first time. He nearly stumbled onto the subway car, as his fingers flew across the screen.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
He hit send, then cursed himself, wished he could take it back. He was going to get nothing in return from Julia and that would only make her exit burn more.
When he emerged on Christopher Street, he hoped that maybe the gods of drunk texting were looking out for him. That perhaps there’d been no signal underground, and he’d be saved from his own stupid desires for her.
But there it was – in his sent messages, mocking his traitorous heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Julia brushed some sugar crystals along the rim of a martini glass, and handed her signature cocktail to a woman in a standard, boring, black business suit who’d wandered in a few minutes ago rolling a large black case on wheels – the kind that was usually full of pharmaceuticals. Julia guessed she was a sales rep for one of the big drug companies and had been pitching docs all day with little success. The woman, quite simply, looked worn down.
She sighed heavily, resting her chin in her palm. Julia felt for her, without even knowing her woes. Life could be a cruel mistress. Sometimes the days wrung you dry. The nights did too, those lonely nights when all she wanted was a note, a moment, a sweet reminder that she wasn’t woman against the world, tackling everything solo.
“Enjoy,” Julia said, sliding the purple snow globe in front of the woman. “I hope it makes the day a little better.”
The woman flashed a smile. “You have no idea how much I need this.”
“This one is my specialty, but if it doesn’t fit the bill, you let me know and I’ll mix up something else for you instead.”
The woman took her first sip, and her tired eyes lit up. Julia swore a switch had been flipped and they’d gone from muted to bright blue. “This is divine.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, and for now, this was enough to make Julia’s shit week a bit better. She might not have won her game, she might have lost her man, but at least she could do one thing right – mix a drink, and lift the spirits temporarily of the weary.
She moved to the tap, filling a pale ale for a regular customer, a skinny guy who always stopped by after work. She liked him; he’d never once tried to hit on her. He was only here for the drinks. “The usual,” she said, handing him the glass. He doffed an imaginary hat, and took his first swallow. She gathered up tips from other patrons and returned to the register, tucking some bills in the drawer.
“Can I pretty please have your most special, awesomest diet coke?”
Julia grinned widely, and turned around to see her favorite person ever. Her sister McKenna, decked out in a vintage emerald green dress with a white petticoat peeking out from the skirt’s hem. On her shoulders she wore a faux white fur cape – 100% pure retro fashionista. Next to her was her fiancé Chris, wearing a plaid button-down and jeans, dress-up attire for the most casual California surfer guy that he was. They were the happiest couple she knew, and yet another reason why Julia was never going to burst their bubble of bliss with her troubles. Seeing her sister happy was a singular joy, and she’d go to the ends of the earth to protect her sister’s heart from any more hurt.
“Always for you,” Julia said and leaned across the bar to give her big sister a hug. “And hello handsome,” she said to Chris, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Hey, Julia. How’s business tonight?”
“Always good at Cubic Z,” she said, beaming and glad for the chance to talk about the bar business. She was proud of her tiny little patch of land in SoMa; yet another reason why she desperately wanted to get out from under Charlie’s thumb. She didn’t want him to take over this place. The thought of him running his illegal operations from her bar, threatening other patsies with his knife that wasn’t dangerous in and of itself, but symbolized all he could do, made her stomach restless. He could turn it to rubble too, leaving her, Kim and Kim’s family high and dry. The thought curled her stomach. She poured McKenna a Diet Coke, then asked Chris for his poison.
“Whatever’s on tap,” he said, and she winced inside at the words. Granted, she heard that phrase a few times a night, but it reminded her of Clay, of what he’d said the first night they met here. After she handed Chris his glass, she looked from McKenna to her man and back. “What’s up with the fancy attire? You going to a ball or something?”