Page 9 of Hot and Bothered
Evan raised a hand to them in a wave of greeting and called out.
“Hey, Lizzy, Grant,” he said. ”Still fighting with that thing?”
Lizzy pursed her lips and muttered something under her breath, then raised her voice to call back.
“I think this thing is possessed by the devil,” she said. “Are you sure there isn’t any other software we can use?”
Evan went over to them. I stayed back, half hiding in the doorway and trying not to bring attention to myself.
“Mason said he’s tried a dozen other programs, but this one is the best,” Evan said.
“It’s not the best if we can’t get it to work,” Lizzy replied.
“Maybe we need to read the instructions instead of just mashing random buttons,” the guy, Grant, pointed out with a teasing nudge. Lizzy made a face at him.
Grant was tall, with wide quarterback shoulders, and might have looked intimidating if it weren’t for the fond, gentle look he was giving Lizzy. She was wearing a dress very similar to the one I was wearing, which made sense since it also belonged to her. She had a cute fashion sense even if it wasn’t the kind of thing I was used to wearing. I was less sneakers and cotton dresses and more designer heels and silk blouses.
The rumbling in my stomach turned fierce as I remembered the friendly but sympathetic way Lizzy handled me the previous night.
When I had taken Evan up on his offer to give me a job, even if it was only temporarily, I’d been so taken aback, so touched, I hadn’t realized exactly what that meant.
I was going to be working with the people who had seen me at my very worst.
I always prided myself on being poised and well put together. Last night I had been the extreme opposite.
Humiliation swirled in my gut. Why hadn’t I realized I’d need to face these people again before I agreed to the job?
But it was too late now. I had nowhere else to go, no other plans. I’d have to just suck it up.
With a deep breath, I straightened my back and walked fully into the bar. Lizzy lifted her eyes from the cash register and caught sight of me. Her eyebrows flew up. She murmured something to Grant, who raised his head briefly to throw a smile in my direction. Evan murmured something to them and I had to wonder exactly what his explanation was going to be.
I didn’t want everyone to know my personal business, but it was a little too late for that now. I’d practically babbled my whole sad, pathetic story to the entire bar the night before. It wasn’t like any of it was a secret anymore.
At least that little humiliation was already over and done with. I wouldn’t have to rehash all the details of why I found myself working here because I had no doubt these people at the bar knew every intimate detail of what I’d done the previous day.
Whatever explanation Evan gave the two of them, it seemed to satisfy them because Lizzy gave me a friendly smile and waved me over.
“Looks like we’re going to be working together for a while,” she said.
“Evan was kind enough to offer me a job,” I told her. “I promise I’ll work hard.”
“We’ll make sure to show you the ropes,” Grant said.
“Let me just finish fighting with this thing,” Lizzy said. “You can have a seat and chill until we’re done.”
I did as she said and took a seat, not at the bar counter, but at one of the booths. I slid in, appreciating the soft, squishy bench seats.
I took a moment to survey the area. I hadn’t had much time to look around the previous night. All I’d been concerned with was going straight to the bar and getting hammered as fast as I could.
Now, in the light of day and with sober eyes, I saw that it was quite a nice looking place. It was well lit with art from local artists on the walls. The booths were high backed to provide privacy, but there were plenty of tables in the middle of the room for large groups to congregate.
At the end of the bar was a small raised platform that looked to be like a stage. They must have live music sometimes. I couldn’t recall if they’d had any last night, but I had been so trashed I might not have realized it if there was.
I absentmindedly reached for my purse to pull out my phone, as was most people’s instincts whenever we had a few seconds to waste. All I found was my pearl-encrusted clutch purse, the only bag that I had with me, and the old phone Evan lent me.
I held the phone between my hands and stared down at the black screen. I hadn’t sent any messages yet. I still wasn’t sure what to say.
I opened a messaging app and entered my login and password. I couldn’t send a proper text because I didn’t have anybody’s phone number memorized. Who did these days? But I could use a messaging app to contact my sister, and that would have to be enough.
