Page 26 of Find Me

I shrug. “What’s the big deal? He introduced himself to me as Jax, so I’m obviously going to call him by his name.”

“He told you to call him Jax?” Red exclaims, surprise in her voice.

“Can someone please tell me what the big deal is? Because I genuinely don’t know what all the fuss is about,” I ask earnestly.

“I have never—and I mean never, Evi—heard him introduce himself by his first name. Let alone heard someone call him by it to his face. Guys have been knocked out for less in his presence,” Red continues, “The fact that you’re on a first-name basis with him is not laying low, Evi.” She scoffs.

The way Jax spoke with me definitely doesn’t match the reputation he has with everyone else here, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone was able to trick me with a façade of friendly smiles. I decide to heed their warning, making a mental note to lay low the next time he comes into the club.

“And do me a favor, Evi… call him Mr. Turner next time he’s in here, before you make me die from heart failure,” Mike requests.

“You’ve got it Mike,” I say, nodding my head as I process everything that just happened, turning back to the bar to finish counting bottles and tallying numbers.

I replay the conversation with Jax in my head repeatedly, even after I’m done prepping for my shift and the club is open, the loud music and rowdy conversations filling the space around me. I can still picture his face, hear the twang in his voice, and feel his hand on mine.

That fire within you has changed.

I mull the words over in my head, trying to figure out the secret meaning.

I debate whether I should say anything to him the next time I see him, or heed Red’s warning and keep my head low, but suddenly I’m distracted from my thoughts as I notice Rhett walk into the room, followed closely by a group of guys. The panic I had suppressed earlier comes to the surface once again, my hands shaky and my breathing rapid, the smile on my face vanishing quickly.

“Hey, Evi,” Rhett drawls as he approaches the bar. In all the time that I’ve worked here he’s never come in during my shift.

“I tried calling you earlier,” I say, trying to keep the suspicion and hurt out of my voice.

“I was busy with my boys, you remember them from last night, don’t you?” He gestures to the group around him.

I glance at them all quickly, not a single face looking familiar. “Oh… yeah, of course,” I lie. “How’s it going?” I ask, ignoring the laughter that escapes their mouths, glances passing between them like an inside joke I’m not privy to.

“I’m surprised you look so put together after the night you had,” the one in the cream polo says as he leans on the wooden bar. The smell of his cologne hangs heavily in the air between us. A sinking feeling in my chest takes a hold of me in response.

“I’m surprised she’s even walking,” another says to the group, the laughter growing louder in response.

I look at them all, my memories from last night failing to resurface in the least, and embarrassment floods through me, knowing that I was so out of it I can’t even remember meeting them, or anything else that I did last night.

I wait anxiously, not sure of what else to say and knowing they could call my bluff at any moment. I look to Rhett, hoping he will save me from the shame I’m feeling.

“Don’t worry Evi, we all thoroughly enjoyed your company, right guys?” He laughs. “Now, let’s get some drinks!”

I breathe a sigh of relief as the conversation changes abruptly, and I listen carefully as they each tell me what they want to order.

I busy myself making their drinks as they migrate towards a cluster of black leather chairs, all of them appearing to have stumbled out of the nearest yacht club with their polo shirts, loafers, and Rolex watches. I worry that they will cause a scene, not knowing Rhett to do anything except go hard when alcohol is involved, but to my surprise they entertain themselves for the next couple of hours, sipping on the first round of drinks I carefully delivered to their table. They leave me to my work, chatting with customers and serving drinks, and I’m relieved that they aren’t here to get wasted, not knowing how I’d even go about explaining their behavior to everyone I work with.

As the crowd thins and the night starts to wind down, Rhett approaches the bar.

“Rhett, we need to talk about last night,” I say quietly, panic giving an edge to my words. “What the fuck happened? I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s funny how fentanyl can do that to a person,” Rhett says nonchalantly.

I freeze. I couldn’t have heard him right, glancing at him as dread and confusion start to consume me.

He smiles at me and continues talking.

“You were going on and on about how the coke was taking too long to kick in and you wanted something stronger. It was incessantly annoying to listen to you complain, so… I gave you something stronger. Perhaps a little too strong.” He adds with a shrug.

I shush him, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards me so he’s leaning across the bar, his face only a few inches from mine.

“You gave me… fentanyl?” I whisper angrily, trying to keep my voice down to make sure no one overhears.

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