Page 7 of Take Me to Church
“And probably real tired of inviting women over and not being able to make them breakfast.” I close the appliance and switch it to run.
Tate rubs one hand along the back of his neck, looking oddly uncomfortable. “I don’t do as much of that as I used to.”
I lift a brow at him. “Probably because you ran through every available woman in town.”
He scoffs. “Don’t act like you’ve been a fucking monk.” His gaze lingers, moving over my face. “It just isn’t the same as it used to be.” His next breath is deep and long, rushing out on a sigh that’s just as substantial. “I’ve been thinking maybe I’m missing out, you know?”
I’m a little stunned by his admission, but maybe I shouldn’t be. Because I’ve been feeling the same sort of way, and it makes me regret passing on that last swallow of bourbon.
“I do know.”
3
LYDIA
I HANG UP the phone and groan. “That is the tenth call I’ve answered from someone wanting to know what time we’re opening the doors tonight.” I turn to Piper, my best friend and one of the bartenders filling the drinks I’ll be delivering at The Cellar tonight. “I feel like it’s a sign this is going to be a shit show.”
Piper waves me off, looking unconcerned as she continues to get set up for our Saturday night shift at the bar where we met. “Nah. That’s pretty normal for when these guys play.” She gives me a wink. “And it means you’re probably gonna make hella tips tonight.”
I could definitely use the money, but I’m not in the mood to be the kind of pleasant that will earn me top dollar. Just because Christian won’t help me save Myra doesn’t mean I’m giving up, but after spending the week looking for a plan B, I’m feeling frustrated and sour.
Because it turns out my options are pretty slim.
Slim and expensive and a little scary.
“And, if you do a great job, maybe Stella will give you more Saturday night shifts.” Piper crouches down to double check the stock, doing her best to improve my foul mood with the promise of a more lucrative schedule. “This is the third time in five weeks Danielle has called off, so I’m pretty sure Stella’s going to stop giving them to her.”
A week ago I would’ve been thrilled at the possibility. I’ve been working at The Cellar since moving to Memphis, grateful anyone at all would give me a job since I had a limited education and even more limited life experience. Luckily, Stella, the owner, didn’t bat an eye at my situation and hired me on.
Of course I get the least desirable shifts, but I still make more than enough to pay my half of the rent on the apartment Piper and I share, so I’m not complaining.
Piper straightens. “And I’d sure as hell rather have you here on Saturdays. At least I know you’ll bust your ass as hard as I do.” She jerks her head toward the back room. “Come help me bring up some backstock.”
I follow her into the storage area of the historic building The Cellar occupies in downtown Memphis. The bar takes up the walk-out basement of the navy painted brick structure. A neon sign points down a cement staircase that leads to the front door from the street, giving the place a sort of retro, speakeasy vibe that appeals to both the visiting crowd and the natives. The upper floors have been renovated into the gorgeous loft Stella calls home. Seeing her success was mind-blowing when I first arrived in town. I was told my future was only about finding a husband and making babies and then taking care of them, so seeing a woman with her own life and her own money shocked me in the best possible way.
Gave me hope that I could do it too.
Not that I expect to ever be as successful as Stella. She’s built The Cellar into one of the best-known bars in town. She brings in the most popular local bands and hosts local events that bring in crowds even during my early shifts.
But I’m starting to suspect those crowds were nothing compared to what I’m about to see tonight.
Piper and I spend almost thirty minutes collecting everything we need to get through the night from the back room, stacking it all in empty boxes before organizing what remains on the shelves for the next person. By the time we’re coming out, I can hear the scratchy sound of the speakers as the sound guy helps tonight’s band get set up.
“Thank God they finally got here.” Piper huffs out a breath as she pushes through the swinging door leading to the bar. “I was starting to get a little worried.”
I carefully set down my load of boxes and go to work sliding the bottles into place. “What time do they normally get here?”
“These guys?” Piper rolls her eyes. “They pretty much get here whenever they want.” She empties out her first box and slides it away. “But everyone puts up with it because of how many people they bring in.”
I stack my empty box into hers. “Are they that good?” My musical knowledge is pretty limited. I spent the first twenty years of my life closed off from the outside world, listening to nothing but the holiest of Christian music. All of it was prescreened by the leaders of the IGL to ensure it met their strict standards. Of course I can listen to whatever I want now, but I’ve had more important things to focus on.
Things like getting an education and figuring out how to help my sister.
“Good doesn’t even begin to describe them.” Piper looks my way, her expression serious. “Just wait. The lead singer’s voice will melt the panties right off your body.”
I snort out a little laugh because the chances of that happening are slim to none. I’ve definitely educated myself more on the world of sex than I have music, but so far I haven’t actually dipped my toe into the waters of physical intimacy. It’s not as easy as I expected to move past the beliefs ingrained in me from the moment I was born, so I’ve decided my panties are better off staying on for a little while longer.
Especially since the only object of my fantasies shut me all the way down.
