Page 106 of Vince
I confront things head on, and he’s not giving me the fucking chance to get things off my chest. It feels like a stack of bricks are piled on my chest, making it almost difficult to breathe. My need to see him and ensure he’s okay almost outweighs my frustration with him. Almost. I know something is wrong that he’s not telling me. But what could it be?
On autopilot, I drive myself to work and proceed to have the shittiest night possible. When I arrive, my manager mentions that one of my co-workers called in sick so it will just be me and him slinging drinks. On a typical night, that would be rough, but tonight I’m so stuck in my freaking head, I seem to fuck up at every turn.
“You okay, Syd?” Garrett asks when I spill the third drink of the night down my shirt.
Groaning, I admit, “This day can’t get over fast enough.”
“As soon as we’ve gotten the line under control, you’re welcome to take a break if you need it.”
Shit, things must be really bad if he’s offering to cover the bar by himself for a while.
Pull it together, Syd.
Focus. Just fucking focus on the task at hand.
“I’ll be okay,” I mutter as I remake the bachelorette party’s drinks I’d spilled.
I manage to work another twenty minutes or so without incident, until the nasally voice of Fucking Brad is brought to my attention. “Hey, beautiful. I’ll have a rum and Coke.”
Just ignore him and do not engage, I repeat as a mantra as I make his drink.
Sliding his drink across the bar because there’s no way I want to risk contact with him, I go through the motions of saying, “That’ll be four-seventy-five.”
The cheap, cocky bastard he is holds up a five-dollar bill but doesn’t hand it to me. Then smirks. “If I let you keep the change, can I get another date with you?”
All the pent-up emotions from the day boils into rage in an instant. Without a second to think through the consequences, I fling the contents of his drink in his face as I practically scream, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He blinks as if he’s actually surprised by my actions and wipes away the brown liquid dripping down his face. He starts to sputter, “You… you…”
He’s so fucking lucky there’s a bar between us, or it may have been my fist coming at his face. Before he can get another word in, I point my finger in his direction and yell above the music. “You have some fucking nerve even showing your face in here. You think I’d go out on another date with you for a quarter… A FUCKING QUARTER? You… big tipper you… You. Are. An. Arrogant. Asshole,” I spit out each word as if it were its own sentence. “You’re such a fucking cheapskate… And don’t even get me started on the fact that you’re the epitome of a deadbeat dad. I feel sorry for the child that has to share your DNA. Don’t youEVERask me out again, or even talk to me for that matter.”
Seeing Asher approach and knowing he’ll have my back, I continue, “Get the fuck out of this bar, Brad. You’re no longer welcome here.”
Asher’s got a good six inches and about fifty pounds on Brad. Brad sees him coming but shakes his head, letting him know an escort will not be needed. He slinks off toward the door, and I inhale a calming breath.
When I turn, Garrett’s eyes are wide, and his hands are raised as if he’s either showing he’s defenseless, or about to lunge after me, if I try anything on him. “Everything okay, Syd?”
I think it’s time I take that break.
I nod slowly as I look around the bar. Quite a few eyes dart quickly away as if they don’t want to draw my attention. Guilt crashes over me for causing such a scene. “He uh… expected to go out with me for letting me keep his change as a tip. He thought a quarter was sufficient.”
Garrett’s mouth drops to almost the floor as his eyes bug out. “And you only threw his drink at him?” He looks in the direction of the door, and I swear the protective guy that he is wants to go after Brad himself.
God, I love having friends like him.
Asher’s deep voice is right behind me as his laughter escapes. “Ha… Damn, he didn’t even let me kick him out. For the record, Syd, you’re worthwaymore than a quarter.”
Rolling my eyes at his lame attempt to bring levity to the situation, I mutter, “Gee, thanks.”
Garrett chimes in, shaking his head as he looks to Asher, “I don’t even think a Benji is worth a date with that douche-canoe. Our girl here is priceless,” he says as he pulls me in for a side hug and squeezes me tight.
I hug him back.
God, I needed this. He may be my boss, but we’ve worked together long enough to consider him a friend as well.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
His dark eyes lock with mine and holds my gaze until he finds what he’s searching for. “You sure you’re okay, Syd?”
Nodding in assurance, I assure, “I’m good. But I think the line that’s stacking up, could use some attending to.”
Knowing I won’t budge in admitting anything could be wrong with me, he rolls his eyes. “Let’s get to it then.”
