Page 17 of Leashed

Chapter Seven

Sage’s shoulders slumped as the lounge door was flung open, her nightly till count interrupted moments before the lounge closed for the evening.

Placing the last of the bills into the deposit bag, she turned and knelt down to lock it into the safe, calling over her shoulder to the latecomer. “Sorry, we’re just closing up.”

“I—” The familiar voice muttered something incoherent before he cleared his throat. “It’s Bo.”

Bo.

She’d seen him pass by the library during her shifts Friday and Saturday, stumbling drunk by noon both days, his friend C at his side. Twice, he’d met her eye through the window. And twice, he’d turned away without any acknowledgment while C elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

Standing, she turned to see his blue and green eyes, bloodshot and red-rimmed from the whiskey she could smell from ten feet away. “Hey. Everything okay?”

He was slouched, one hand gripping the counter to steady himself as he refused to look down at her. “Fine. Just wanted to…I don’t know.” Blinking a few times, he rolled out his shoulders. “How’s school going?”

She held position, keeping the barrier of the bar top between them. “It’s going.”

“What painting did you settle on?”

“Prometheus Bound by Rubens.” Looking him over once more, she reached under the till to grab her stack of research books and laptop. “This one.”

His unfocused eyes scanned the empty lounge before he spun a high-backed barstool up and straddled it. “Didn’t really picture you as a snuff art girl.”

“It’s not snuff art,” she retorted, snapping the book closed. “It’s one of Rubens’s collaborative pieces showcasing both the brutality of the story and the beauty of the baroque color pal—”

With a lopsided smirk, he cocked his head toward the closed book. “And out of all the works in there, that’s the one that spoke to you? The one about a guy being tortured for eternity?” He draped his arms over the back of the chair and leaned forward. “Read me your essay.”

Rolling her eyes, she opened the computer and angled the screen to him. “There it is.”

He closed his blue eye, struggling to focus on the small lettering. “You’ve got, like, ten words done. And two of those are your name. Give me that fucking thing.”

Passing the book to him, she leaned against the counter. “When I said it was going, I didn’t mean it was going well.” She watched him as he perused the artwork, flipping the pages with a concentration she hadn’t known someone could have in such an inebriated state. “So you’re on a bit of a binge this weekend.”

He looked up at her, his hair falling into his eyes. “And?” He returned his attention to the book, his shoulders hunching forward until he found what he was looking for. “That one.”

“Hercules and Cerberus,” She smiled. “I’ll consider it.” Pouring him a coffee, she added a couple ice cubes to cool it and slid it across the bar to him, softening when he clutched it with both hands and drew it in close. “Want me to call someone? Your friend I met at the casino maybe? C, right?”

With a snort, he shook his head. “She’s at work. And she knows I’m here. She walked me over.”

“Rough week?”

Grunting, he shrugged. “Family shit.”

“Often is,” she replied, leaning her elbows on the counter and cupping her chin. “My mom isn’t speaking to me right now.”

He glared at the coffee for a moment before pounding back half the cup. “My brother isn’t speaking to me, either.”

Topping up his mug, she returned to her position, her mouth opening before she could fully contemplate how wise it was to talk to Bo about something so personal when she barely knew him. “My mom isn’t speaking to me because my boyfriend told me to quit waitressing and I refused.”

He swallowed, his jaw clenching a few times. “My brother’s tired of scraping me off the floor when I go on a binge, so he’s moving out.”

Dropping her voice a little more, she leaned in closer. “My mother told me not to call her until I smarten up and marry Nixon. Which I can’t do if he doesn’t ask, so…”

“Oh, damn. The M word,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Okay, you win.”

“What do I win?”

He frowned and stared long and hard at his empty coffee cup. “Well, hell. I don’t know. What do you want?”

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