Great.
————
Sophie:I miss your face.
Ivy:I miss your face more. How’s work? Want to get dinner?
Sophie:It’s going. Whiskey Hollow at 7?
Ivy:See you there.
————
I walk into The Whiskey Hollow just before seven. Apparently Maverick bought this place after the former owner passed away. The place is every inch the small town dive bar.
The floors, tables and chairs seem to be made of the same worn wood. Neon beer signs, and random, framed memorabilia grace every wall. String lights attached to the high ceiling cross back and forth over the large space, doing their job of creating that gritty, unpolished atmosphere.
I love it.
There’s a pool table and a dart board at the far end of the room. Both are currently occupied, as is the rest of the bar it seems. Pretty much every seat at the bar is taken, which Maverick is tending to now, along with another bartender.
Maverick has a white bar towel slung over his shoulder, chatting up a curvy redhead while he pops the top off of a couple beers. He’s not wearing his usual flirty smirk, he’s almost smiling gently. He sets the beers on the counter and rubs the back of his neck. Is he nervous? That’s impossible. He says something I can’t make out, then the woman takes the drinks and practically runs away.
He looks up and sees me across the room. I point in the direction the redhead went with a questioning look, silently asking him “What the hell was that?” He waves me off with a frown, shaking his head, silently telling me, “Mind your business.” I give him a thumbs up.
Got it.
He tilts his head in the direction behind me, and I spin to see Sophie waving at me from a table near the wall. I hurry my steps as she stands, and all but jump into her arms.
“Where have you been?” I ask into her thick blonde hair.
“Working. Busy. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m just glad to see you,” I reply as we sit down.
“Tell me everything. How is Mrs. Abbott? Why do you smell so good? Why are you busy? What aren’t you telling me?” I ask in rapid succession as I grab a fry out of the basket she already ordered, and pop it into my mouth.
“Still up-tight. It’s a new lotion, I'll text it to you. I have a lot going on with summer break around the corner. And I don’t want to talk about it,” she replies toall of my questions with a cheesy smile, then grabs two fries herself, dips them in the side of ketchup, and eats them.
“But you’re okay?” I question with a raised brow.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not in danger?”
That gets me an eye roll. “I’m not in danger.”
“You’ll tell me eventually?”
She nods. “I’ll tell you eventually.”
My shoulders sag a bit. “Well, damn. I thought we were going to gossip.”
“Oh. We are.” She grins.
That gets my attention. I sit up straighter, suddenly giddy. “Oh, yay! What’s it about? Spill.”
“You,” she says, eyeing me while taking a sip of her drink.
