“I don’t thinkmoaningis the word I’d use, but yeah.”
“Noah, this deal is huge. It’s the equivalent to what you usually make in three months,” said Ezra. “This is your ticket to a stress-free social media break, my friend.”
Nowthatcaught my attention. I leaned against the counter, egg catastrophe forgotten, and grabbed a nearby journal and pen.
“Tell me what we’d have to do.”
The door to the bar creaked when I pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room with the scent of roasted peanuts and the tang of well-aged whiskey. Soft jazz music drifted from a jukebox in the corner, scratchy tunes that warmed my brain as I shut the door behind me. The sign hanging from the ceiling displayed the bar name: Rose Buds.
Faded posters and vintage stickers adorned the walls, as well as signatures and hand-written notes. Guests scattered across tables and chairs, plus a few booths against the wall. A bizarre mix of people: young beatnik-looking artists, aged businessmen, a group of girls on a post-work happy hour adventure, and a few dudes who were admiring said group of girls.
And then there was me.
When I had DM’d Macey on Instagram and asked to meet for a drink, I’d expected we would go to a hotel bar or a craftcocktail bar. Hell, I’d take Chili’s over whatever this was. Macey had an eclectic taste in bars. Not bad, because I could get used to the vibe. Just…weird.
I was both surprised and relieved she had agreed to see me. Despite my determination to play it calm and cool, I wasn’t sure what to expect.Is she mad about the TikTok? Will she bring it up? Are we going to end up having a sequel argument?
Macey waved at me from a table designed for two.
Here we go.
She dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen her, whale outfit excluded. Black long-sleeved top and tight denim jeans. I had never been much of a leg man before, but I suddenly found myself with a new appreciation for them.
“Hansley,” she greeted when I sat across from her.
“Macey.” I forced a smile, knowing I had to be on my most charming behavior tonight. “How are you?”
She eyed me carefully. There was a splash of color on her eyelids that wasn’t normally there. Sparkly. “I’m good. I was surprised to see your message.”
“I’m surprised you come here,” I commented, my wrist dragging over a sticky spot on the table, “on purpose.”
Macey, un-offended, laughed and sipped her drink. “Once you have one of Bear’s cocktails, you’ll see why.”
“Bear?”
The burly bartender lifted his arm in a wave, and the bear tattoo on his forearm caught the light. “Ah. I get it now.”
I stood to order, but Macey stopped me. My hand suddenly felt like it was on fire, even though she only lightly grazed it with her fingertips. “No,” she said. “Bear knows what you want.”
“How does Bear know what I want?” The bartender shook a mysterious concoction, which I assumed was meant for me. “He doesn’t even know me.”
Macey shrugged. “Don’t ask questions. Besides”—she slylypeeked up at me beneath dark lashes—“he probably just looked at what drinks you hold in your selfies. Hopefully, it’s nothing lethal.”
My breath caught somewhere in my chest. “Lethal?”
“He’s pretty protective of me. That TikTok video may have made you public enemy number one.”
Here was my opening. Time to set the record straight. “I had no idea that someone recorded us.”
“I didn’t think you did,” she said with a neutral face. “It sucks, but it’s done. I guess next time we should fight in private.”
“Listen, Macey…I went too far with some of the things I said. I don’t think you’re an unsuccessful corporate pawn.”
Macey pulled her hand into her lap. “Technically, the word you said wasspawn. Corporate spawn. Like I’m a demon who crawled out of hell or something.”
“Well, I’ve heard you’re a fast runner.”
She stared deadpan back at me.
