“Aren’t you at your dad’s?”
“Yes,” the word is drawn out through the speaker, as if it just dawned on him, “I should probably go to him, huh?”
“Yes, you should.” I stop at the front door to finish the conversation. “You’re over there until Monday evening after practice. Unless it’s an emergency, go to your dad. Well, if it’s an emergency, too, but not for stuff like this. I’m late for work.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he pauses for a second, “I’ll talk to Dad. Have a good night at work, and be careful on your way home.”
“I will.” A small smile creeps across my face. They may annoy the crap out of me sometimes, but I always miss them when they are gone. “Have fun at your dad’s, love you.”
“Love you, too.” He doesn’t say bye before hanging up the phone. It’s one of my pet peeves, and something I hope he’ll grow out of.
Before tucking my phone away in my back pocket, I shoot off a text to Abby.
Mom: Have fun this weekend. And please don’t fight with your brother.
I don’t wait for a response. If I know my daughter, she’s rolling her eyes and making faces at Isaac for calling me. There will probably be a smartass text waiting on me when I go on break.
Opening the door, I slide past the people waiting on a table. I don’t know why they bother. There’s plenty of standing room around the dance floor. But I guess Patrick is still technically cooking dinner items instead of bar snacks.
Waving at Carlos and Eric, I holler, “I’m putting my stuff away and I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time,” Eric answers, “you have time.”
Slowing, I take in the spaces open at the bar. He’s right. Good. I’ll have time to do something with my hair before I come out.
I open the office door and close it behind me. I set my stuff on one of the shelves and glance in the mirror hanging on the wall. Good God. No wonder Eric said I have time. The pieces of hair that fell out of my ponytail are sticking in every direction. My cheeks are tinged pink from the sun. Hopefully that’s as bright as it gets and I didn’t get an actual sunburn.
Another trip to the car is in order. I keep an emergency brush in the console. I can’t do much about my makeup, but I can at least make sure my hair is presentable. Moving toward the door, I step back when it swings open.
“Wh-what are you doing back here?” Eric is staring at me. Is it good, or bad? I can’t tell.
He shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in and opens the door farther. I have no clue why, but I’m not questioning it. “I was coming to see if you needed anything.”
Leaning back, I take another quick glance in the mirror. I really don’t want to go back out there looking like a mess. “Actually, wanna do me a favor?”
“Sure.” He shrugs. His almost black hair falling into his face. “What do ya need?”
“There’s a brush in the console of my car.” I hold my keys out, “any chance you can grab it for me? I don’t want to scare off potential customers.”
“I doubt you’d scare them off,” he smirks and reaches for the keys. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks,” I call out, but the door is already closing behind him. Lisa was right about one thing: he goes out of his way to help people. I can’t help but wonder if his motivation is purely out of kindness, or a way to keep showing his interest in me. Probably best not to question it. He’s keeping me from having to go into the bar area looking like I got attacked by Mother Nature, even if that’s exactly what happened at the game.
I move back to the mirror and pull the scrunchie out my hair when the door opens again. “Here you go.” He stops behind me and holds the brush over my shoulder.
“Thank you.” I wait for him to go back to the bar, but he doesn’t move. “Is there anything else?”
“You should wear your hair down more often.” He reaches toward a frizzy strand but pulls away at the last second. “It looks good.”
That’s not exactly what I’d call it, but okay. “I feel like it gets in the way when I’m making drinks.”
“I can understand that.” His hair isn’t long. It reminds me of those emo pop bands from when I was in my late teens.
“Can you, though?” I smile and point to his hair then mine. “Mine is a lot longer than what you have.”
“You have a point.” He takes a step back noticing the closeness between us. A teeny tiny part of me wishes he would have moved in the opposite direction. “I should probably get back out there before Carlos thinks we’re doing something we shouldn’t be in here.”
“What do you mean?”
