Fix Me Not Page 6

  The lot is packed when I arrive at The Drunken Moose, the music loud enough to hear from inside the Explorer. Flipping down the mirror, I swipe on some lip gloss.

  Then I remind myself that this is only temporary.

  I remind myself that again as I pass the smokers’ porch. More than one guy out there tries to stop me. All I want to do is bum a cigarette off of one of them. Working here might make it even harder not to crave them.

  I flash them all a bright smile just in case I might end up serving any of them later, and push open the door.

  The same bartender I met earlier and Malcolm are both behind the bar.

  He offers me his hand. “Hey, we didn’t get properly introduced before. I’m Dave.”

  “Paige.”

  He nods his head because obviously he already knew my name. “Here’s a list of the drink prices. Study it up and use it if you need to but memorize them quickly so you’re not staring at it when people are ordering drinks from you.”

  “Got it.”

  “This is Hope. For tonight you’re going to shadow her.”

  A redhead approaches at his words. She can't be that much taller than me normally, but towers over me considering the spiked heels she's rocking. I thought I looked good when I left but, next to Hope I look like a Sunday school teacher.

  Looking less than thrilled that I'm going to be tagging along after her, Hope says, “What's your name?”

  I lift my chin. “Paige.”

  She slides a piece of gum from one cheek to another, giving it a chomp halfway. “Ever waitressed before?”

  I nod but decide against clarifying that it was at a restaurant, not a bar. She frowns before turning away from me and extending one manicured finger to point for me to follow. When she reaches a table, rather than standing next to it, she leans over it, planting one elbow on it and resting her chin on her palm. “Any of you guys need a fresh one?”

  Two of the five men sitting and standing around the table lift their glasses in response.

  One of the other men nods his head in my direction. “Who’s your friend?”

  She straightens, standing tall as she swings an arm around my waist to pull me close to her and closer to the table. “This here is the new girl, Paige. Isn't she pretty?”

  Most of them nod. One takes a drink of his beer while staring at me. “You new in town?”

  I smile, trying not to be weirded out that Hope went from indifferent to my pretend best friend in zero time. “I am.”

  He offers me his hand, “I'm Jerry. I'd be happy to show you around.”

  Hope bats his hand away and looks at me. “Trust me. Only place this one will show you is his parents’ basement.”

  While his friends all groan and chuckle or say, “Damn Jerry,” Hope gives him a sweet smile.

  He pushes back his chair to stand, circling the table to get close to her. “I thought you liked my parents’ basement?”

  She traces the edge of his jaw with her fingertip. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  He puckers his lips and she surprises me by pressing into him and kissing him quickly.

  She turns and he loops his arms around her waist. “This is my husband Jerry and his goofy friends.”

  Interesting.

  When he offers me his hand I shake it and Hope steps out of his arms and motions back to the guys around the table. “These guys hang out most nights to make sure whoever is working gets to their car safe after their shift. They are total goofs but good guys.”

  Wow. That's cool of them.

  I smile at everyone again, this time grinning.

  Hope and I go to collect their drinks. As cold as she was when we met, she warms up quickly. While I shadow her, she gives me a rundown of the different sections and tips for dealing with overly friendly customers.

  Before it's time for me to go on my own, she says, “Malcolm is a smooth talker. Trust me, you don't want to get mixed up with him.”

  “I don't have the time or the desire to get mixed up with anyone.”

  She gives me a weary look that somehow says, you'll find time.

  I don't have a chance to convince her otherwise as more people come into the bar. It's so busy, I spend the next couple of hours working my ass off. As I deliver another round of drinks I can't help but wonder how Hope would have managed all these tables on her own.

  Them needing help was probably the reason I was hired on the spot. My feet start to ache right in the center of my arch even though I'm wearing flats. How Hope isn't in the fetal position crying her eyes out given the heels she's wearing is beyond me.

  I had worried wearing flats might negatively impact my tips, and that I needed to be sexier to get good ones when I saw her. That's proving not to be an issue. Apparently, my height is adorable and these guys all like to stand next to me to see how many of them can rest their arms on the top of my head.

  They all get a big kick out of it each time I knock their arms off my head. It's annoying as hell but since they're having fun they're tipping pretty well. I suppose I can put up with the short jokes if it means cash in my wallet.

  “What are you doing when you get off?” Malcolm asks as he fills an order for me.

  “I'm passing out. I have to be up early for my other job,” I reply, praying it will discourage him.

  “I saw you listed Dana’s place on your application. Do you work there every day?”

  “Sure do,” I nod and reach for the drafts.

  His hands cover mine. “You could quit that place with what you'd make here.”

  There's a suggestion that seems self-serving in his words. Considering the cash now sitting in the pocket of my apron, he has a point. Still, I'd quit this place before Dana’s in a heartbeat.

  Sure, Hope turned out to be cool and her husband and his friends seem nice, I've learned late nights and bar scenes aren't for me.

  “I'm fine, thanks,” I reply.

  He drops his hands and I shift the beers onto my tray. After I deliver them, and pocket a buck tip from each of the guys who ordered one, I scan my section and see I have a loner at a table toward the back. Tucking my tray under my arm, I make my way over to him. A few feet from the table I stop dead when I recognize its occupant.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Asher Thompson.

  His gaze travels over my bare legs to the v cut of my top before landing on my face. “Abby called me and told me you were working here.”

  Who knew Asher was a gossip.

  “And?” I ask.

  He frowns, leaning forward. “And she said you're already working at Dana’s in the mornings.”

  “So?”

  Seven

  Asher

  So? That's her answer?

  My chest burns. Never in my life have I ever dealt with a person who irritates me as much as Paige does. Considering my brothers and sister, that's saying something.

  “You'll end up dead on your feet and won't be able to look after your mom,” I reply.

  She juts out a hip and plants her hand on it. “You know my mom, she doesn't need much looking after. In fact, being out of the house and not available to cart her around town is probably a good thing.”

  There's music playing in this crap bar, loud enough that she had to raise her voice for me to hear her. As eyes move to us, I realize our conversation is not going unnoticed.

  Women, some I recognize from my infrequent trips into town, are not hiding the way their eyes size me up. I've never been comfortable with the attention I've received. If I have to grocery shop, or check my mail, that's all I'm interested in, not what some random woman will bluntly promise she'll do for me in bed.

  It's a part of the reason I stay away. Men are just as bad, but to prove how tough they are. Starting a fight with a guy as big as me makes them feel like they have a big dick or something. It never ends well when I have to prove otherwise just to have some peace.

  “People are watching,” I say.

  She glanc
es over her shoulder to smile and wave at the tables around us. The smiles, and lust filled looks she gets in return make my gut tighten.

  “Asher Thompson, what in the world are you doing here?” A sugary sweet voice asks.

  Paige jumps, not seeing Quinn’s approach since it came from the side.

  “I'm here to talk to Paige,” I reply, not bothering to look at her.

  As usual, my lack of interest does nothing to discourage her. She rounds Paige, and stands behind my chair, setting her hands on my shoulders in a familiar way she shouldn't. I don't like to be touched, or rather, I don't like to be touched by some people. Quinn falls into the people I don't want touching me category.

  She has to move out of the way, her hands falling from my shoulders, when I push my chair back and stand.

  “Can I talk to you outside?” I ask, my eyes never leaving Paige.

  Quinn’s mouth drops in surprise at my brushoff. Her gaze moves to Paige and by the sneer on her face, she doesn't seem impressed.

  Standing almost side-by-side, Quinn would be considered the more obviously attractive of the two. She carries herself in a way that makes it clear she's used to getting whatever or whomever she wants, except for me. That it hasn't sunk in I'm not interested in Quinn physically, or in any other way, is her problem, not mine.

  “I've got nothing to say to you and you've got nothing I want to hear so how about you go so I can get back to work,” Paige snips.

  Jesus, does she always need to be such a pain in my ass?

  Quinn’s mouth drops further when I grab Paige’s hand and pull her toward the door.

  “There a problem here?” Malcolm, the owner of this shithole and all around dick asks, stepping in front of me before I reach the door.

  He's the kind of guy who loves to throw his weight around to prove how important he thinks he is.

  Surprising me, Paige steps between us. “No problem, I just need to take a quick break.”

  His body stays tense as his eyes flick to her face before his gaze moves back to me. He's itching for a tussle and she just threw a wrench in that plan. Stepping aside to let us pass, his eyes warn me this isn't over.

  When we get to the parking lot, Paige turns on me. “Was the He-Man act really necessary?”

  “What?”

  She jabs her finger toward my face. “I might work for you one day a week and my mother might think you shit bricks of pure gold but that does not make you the boss of me and it does not give you the right to come into my job and start butting into my life. You need to get in your Jeep and go home now.”

  Bricks of pure gold?

  “Paige—,” I start but am quickly cut off.

  “What is it with you?” She asks. “Why do you even act like you care?”

  She doesn't give me a chance to respond. “You don't like me and you have to know by now I don't like you. Consider yourself relieved of any obligation you think you're under. I seriously do not have time for this shit.”

  On that, she turns, and marches right back into the bar. Grumbling to myself, I head to my Jeep and climb in. It just happens to be parked next to Millie’s Explorer. Instead of leaving, I dig around my glove box for my headlamp, put it and my reading glasses on, and flip open the book Abby brought me this week.

  It's a biography of a mountain climber who climbed mountains all over the world. While he climbed with teams, he, himself, was a loner. I'm not far into it when I see the parallels between his life and my own. When he starts to explain how meeting his now wife on one of those mountains changed his life, I roll my eyes.

  Real subtle Abby.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  The sound of Paige’s voice brings me back to the present. I look out my window and hurriedly reach up to turn off my headlamp after she shields her eyes.

  Once it's off the darkness of the parking lot momentarily blinds me. I pull off my reading glasses and rub at my eyes.

  Paige, I've come to learn, has no problem finding words. “Why are you still here?”

  Blinking I can start to make out her face, and her frown. “I'm going to follow you home.”

  Her eyes flash, the darkness doing nothing to hide the spark of anger in them. “What if I'm not going home?”

  I reach for the door handle and her hand reaches out to slap the outside of my door.

  “You stay in there Sasquatch. I'm leaving and you are not following me.”

  I watch as she stalks off to her Explorer, slamming the door once she's inside it. Gravel flies as she quickly reverses, her tires peeling once she hits asphalt. Seconds later I pull out behind her, making no attempt to hide the fact that I am following her.

  I can't explain why I’m doing it, not even to myself. It's not like Millie asked me to, though she might have if she had the opportunity to. Best I can understand, I still feel somewhat responsible for Millie’s fall. That guilt, and something else I’m not willing to look into further, has me now looking out for her daughter, whether she wants me to or not.

  She parks, and I slide into the spot next to her. I'm not surprised to see her waiting for me when I open my door.

  “You. Are. Unbelievable,” she says, anger roiling across her words.

  “Go inside,” I order with a finger pointed to the house.

  She balls her fists. “I'll stay out here all night if I want to and there is not one thing you can do about it.”

  I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her in, but deciding against getting physical, I call her bluff and get back in my Jeep. “Suit yourself. The sofa would be more comfortable but if you want to sleep on concrete that's your choice.”

  She growls low in her throat and I have to stop myself from smiling. As frustrating as she is, irritating her was surprisingly fun tonight.

  “See you tomorrow night Paige.”

  She takes a step toward me but I turn on my Jeep and am already pulling away. My headlights illuminate her, showcasing just how pissed off she is.

  For some reason, I smile the entire drive home. It's not until I'm inside and reflecting on my actions tonight that my smile disappears. What the hell am I doing, and why do I even care?

  I don't like her. She's just some spoiled lazy brat. Only she isn't, and learning how hard she is working was a shock. Before Abby called and told me, I had assumed I knew everything there was to know about Paige. I had wrongly convicted her and in doing so, uncovered something about myself.

  Looking up from my page, I watch as Paige walks out of the bar and toward the Explorer. The moment she sees me, she waves. Since it’s only one finger she’s waving, I have a feeling it isn’t to say hi.

  Slipping off my glasses, I set them and my book on the passenger seat. She’s almost to her mom’s SUV when I climb out of my Cherokee.

  “Paige.”

  She doesn’t say a word or stop at my greeting. Instead, she strolls right past me. She wastes no time firing up the engine and backing out of her spot. I have to jump out of the way as she narrowly avoids running me over. Something tells me she was aiming for me.

  I’ll give her one thing; no woman has ever tried to run me over before. She’s laughing as she pulls out of the lot. Hurrying back to my SUV, I follow her making a point to stay far enough behind her to show her I’m not chasing her. By the time I reach her mom’s place, she’s already let herself in and turned off the outside light. I’ll have to remember not to get out of my Cherokee tomorrow night.

  She decides against flipping me off tonight, and smiles and waves as she crosses the lot toward me. This scares me more than when she tried to run me over. What is she up to?

  My eyes scan her, lingering on her sculpted calves before shifting to see if she’s carrying a baseball bat or some other weapon. I see nothing aside from her purse but stay on guard since she’s being friendly. After she climbs into her seat, she gives me a little finger wave before slowly backing out.

  I hold back a cringe, wondering if she plans to ram my SUV. When she doesn’t, I turn the k
ey and shift into reverse. Nothing happens.

  Looking down at my display I double check to make sure I shifted to reverse and not past it to neutral. When I confirm I’m in reverse, I gently press on the gas. The engine revs but I go nowhere. Shifting back into park I push open my door and climb out just in time to see Paige laughing as she pulls out of the lot.

  My eyes move over my Cherokee and stop dead on my tires, or more specifically the blocks she somehow managed to place behind them.

  That conniving little brat.

  Removing the blocks and tossing them into the back takes no time. Either way, she’s long gone and by the time I reach her mom’s place, the outside light is off again. Vowing to myself she won’t trick me tomorrow night, I drive home.

  Tonight I decide against parking in the Moose’s lot and park across the street instead. When she leaves, I watch as she looks for me, frowning when she can’t find me. Her head turns back toward the bar and I watch as that dick Malcolm walks over to her.

  Deciding now is as good of a time as any to let her know I showed, I tap my horn and flip on my lights. She jumps and then shades her eyes to look and see who honked. The moment she recognizes my ride, she gives me a one-fingered salute.

  It’s my turn to throw my head back and laugh.

  Without saying another word to Malcolm, she climbs into her SUV and leaves. As soon as she pulls out of the parking lot, I turn out after her. When we reach her mom’s place, she pauses to frown at me. Then she’s gone, slipping inside the door and switching off the outside light. Her frown bothers me enough that it’s a few long moments before I pull away.

  I prefer her laughing.

  “Here,” Paige says, passing me a water and a plate of fries through my window.

  I’m back in the parking lot of the Moose tonight, parked right next to Millie’s Explorer.

  “Are you trying to drug me?” I had asked.

  She shrugs her slender shoulders. “Consider it a truce.”

  I’ve finished all of the fries and am still working on my drink when she returns an hour or so later.