“Anyway, that morning, you were wearing tight workout clothes. Officer Golden couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”
“Okay, fine. But I’m telling you, if you wore clothes that actually fit you, you’d have guys falling all over themselves.”
I smile at Pats. “I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do. Thank you.” But she’s wrong. And the depressing part? She didn’t mention Bryant. The one man I’ve been pining for this past year. I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to figure out how to get him to like me back, but so far, I’ve come up with nothing, because that advice your mom gave you growing up, the “just be yourself” advice? Yeah, that doesn’t work.
Why do I bother thinking about Bryant at all? He asked for Kara’s freaking number. The jerk.
Chapter Twenty-One
“We need more Bud,” Luke yells from the other side of the bar.
I quickly drop the bar rag and race down into the basement to locate a case of Budweiser. It’s dark, so I slide my palm around on the brick wall in search of the light switch. When I find it, I flip it on, then quickly wipe my palm on my jeans. The basement is extra damp today. Not a surprise since it’s been raining basically nonstop for two days. Rain’s not typical for Iowa in October, but it’s been unseasonably warm this year.Thank you, global warming.
Weaving my way through the stacks of inventory, I spot the Budweiser next to the rest of the domestic beers we carry. Reaching for it, I pull it down from the top of the stack and turn toward the stairs. The box isn’t terribly heavy with its twenty-four bottles, but carrying box after box up a long flight of stairs is starting to take a toll on my back, legs, and arms. At the top of the stairs, I pause to catch my breath. Luckily, the entrance to the basement is sort of obscured from the rest of the bar, so I can do so in private. Lugging the box to the beer fridge after a moment’s reprieve, I quickly fill up the Bud section in the refrigerator, lining up each bottle with labels out, just as Luke taught me.
“Yo, get me some fries.”
I look behind me and see a group of guys sitting at the bar. They’ve been here a while, probably too long. Since the bar is loud, I raise my voice and say, “No fries today.”
He yells back, “Okay, then rings. I’ll have some onion rings.”
I shake my head and step closer so I don’t have to raise my voice. “No rings either. No food.”
“Did you hear that, guys?” He looks at his friends, then back at me. “No food. She ate it all.”
I blink for a second or two, trying to wrap my head around his words.She ate it all?“No, I—”
“Yo, Luke,” the guy yells.
Luke steps over to the group, the usual scowl on his face. “What?”
“You’d better keep an eye on that bottom line because this one”—he points to me—“is going to eat all your profits.”
I’m holding my breath. My face has got to be magenta, because it feels like it’s burning up. Tears are sitting right below the surface, so I blink a million times to keep them from falling.Why?I mean…I’m going to eat all the profits?
Who says shit like that to people?
This guy doesn’t know me. He knows nothing about my life. I mean, what if I’d just lost 100 pounds? What if I had a thyroid condition that prevented me from losing weight? This asshole doesn’t know; he just sees my size and judges me based on that.
I’ve taken in some much-needed air now that I’ve worked through some of my thoughts, but I still don’t want to say anything especially with Luke right there.
Ugh, Luke.
How embarrassing. He justhadto hear that guy’s words. Of course he already knows I’m fat, but still. When someone says something rude like that to your face, you don’t want anyone else to hear it. Worse still, the guy’s dick friends are all laughing and slapping the guy on the back like he just won a championship. Yeah, if there was a world series of douchebags, this guy would win. No contest.
Just then, I’m pulled away from my thoughts by Luke. “Get out,” he snaps.
“Wh-what?” the champion douchebag sputters.
Luke points one long finger at the guy. “You don’t say shit like that to a woman, especially Quinn. Get the fuck out.”
“Luke, man… listen.”
“Don’t fuckingLukeme, asshole. Who says shit like that? Huh?”
The guy tries to reply, but Luke keeps going.
