Page 22 of False Start
But all I feel now is that ball of hatred deep in my chest, and it only grows the more she’s around.
It seems like lately, she’s always around.
“I need three Old Fashioneds,” Freddy calls from his end of the bar.
It’s going to be a long night.
I pour the whiskey, the majority of my attention still on the girl with the pink-tipped braid. They’ve barely sat when she gets up for the bathroom, and K comes my way.
“Harvey.” They keep their voice low, hard to hear, even though it’s a crowded room.
I’m bothered in every sense of the word. Annoyed, frustrated, angry, downright itchy in my own skin, and her showing up to my place of work doesn’t make it any better. But none of this has to do with K. I’m not about to take it out on them.
“K.” I tilt my chin up. “What are you having?”
“The Lost Thirty on draught.” They turn their gaze to the bathrooms where Nia disappeared to. “And a Whiskey Sour.”
I pour the beer and then measure out the whiskey into the shaker, the simple syrup, the lemon juice, the egg white. K-Otic is still staring at the bathroom door, and I’m shaking the contents of the cocktail, both of us desperate to avoid small talk.
They’re paying for the drinks by the time Nia comes out, not bothering to stop at the bar and going directly to her table.
The hour moves at a glacial pace.
It’s Wednesday, so there’s maybe four other people at the bar, which makes it impossible for me to delve into my usual pastime of people watching when I’m actively trying to avoid one of said persons.
But she’s loud, hard to ignore, and Freddy doesn’t have the music turned up nearly high enough for me to even pretend to be enjoying it. She gushes over how fast K is and emphasizes that they’d likely outskate her even if shewasn’ttaking hits. I don’t agree with the sentiment.
Here I’ve been, expecting some cocky little has-been, someone who thinks the world should get on their knees for her and grovel at her presence. Instead… She’s insecure.
That’s not the girl Lonnie painted a picture of.
The basketball game comes on, and a few more people enter the bar, right on schedule. I keep busy, making drinks, avoiding eye contact and the burning need to stare at the table to my left where the two sit, casually talking. I’m serving Cosmos to a few nurses from the ER who just wrapped up a shift when I catch Nia standing at my peripheral.
I fight the urge to turn my head, knowing she’s likely headed to the bathroom again.
K stands and orders two more of the same drinks for them, this time bringing their phone with them and scrolling to avoid conversation. But it’s almost half time, and an older guy bids for their attention, not taking the clue and asking about the game.
“I don’t know anything about basketball.” K shrugs theman off their arm, grabbing both the drinks before heading back to the table.
It takes Nia a few more minutes to return from the bathroom, her eyes catching mine for just a brief moment before she sits down, this time next to K instead of across from them. The rest of the game passes, though neither of them looks up at the television the entire night.
They order cheese fries and mini sliders while I pretend to not give a fuck.
I don’t even knowwhyI give a fuck, but I givesomany fucks.
The sooner she leaves, the faster I’ll feel better. I won’t have to see her until Friday, and maybe by then, I’ll be able to figure out how to rein in all this anger.
She’s on her fourth bathroom break in an hour while K still contently sips on a wheat beer, not a drop of suspicion on their face.
“Cover me?” I nudge Freddy, who nods but doesn’t put down his phone.
It’s a one person bathroom, but we’ve got three of them. The other two have their doors wide open, so I’m not even guessing when I rap my knuckles against the door.
“Hold on,” she says nervously, but I knock again.
I hear the toilet flush and a softdamnitfrom inside before the handle jiggles. Nia swings the door open, eyes going wide with alarm at the sight of me standing in front of her. She stutters something incoherent before trying to walk around me, but I’m doing my best to take up all the space at the threshold, moving to my left when she goes right and blocking her from leaving.
“W-what are you doing?” she stammers, nervously stepping back as I walk her into the bathroom again.
