“You can go home if you’re not feeling great. It’s not that busy.”
Well, I guess her assuming I’ve spent the past half hour taking a shit is better than the reality.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. It’ll suck giving up the extra few hours of tips, but with the way my head’s all messed up right now there’s a high probability of me screwing up some orders. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.”
She nods. “No worries. And if you’re feeling better tomorrow you can make up the hours then. I asked Mel to cover for me, but I think she could use the help.”
I smile at her. “Thanks, you’re amazing.” She’s not wrong—Gia usually does the work of about three bartenders so if she has to take time off we definitely need more than one person to cover her shift.
“Oh, and don’t worry—Jazz won’t be here to annoy you tomorrow. He has family stuff.”
I arch a brow at her. “Jazz has a family? I kind of just assumed he was like one of those apex predators who hatched in the wild, ate all their siblings and then survived on their own, feeding on creatures weaker than them.”
She tosses her head back with a wild laugh. “Okay, maybe when it comes to guys he can get a bit like that. But his family is a totally different matter. They’re really tight knit, which you wouldn’t expect for a bunch of Ritchie Rich types. And he’s really sweet with them, especially his little sister.”
My brows shoot up in incredulity. Jazz? Sweet? We must be talking about a different person.
Obviously registering my shock, Gia offers me a soft smile. “You know he’s only messing with you, right? With the whole singing thing? If it makes you really uncomfortable you can tell him to stop and he will. He can be an asshole sometimes but he won’t push it if you tell him to cut it out.” She lets out a wry chuckle, shaking her head in exasperation. “To be honest, I thinkthe only reason he’s still doing it is because you haven’t cracked and told him to stop yet.”
“I can handle Jazz,” I assure her. But the words feel like a total lie in my mouth. Maybe earlier today they would have been true, but not after what happened in the bathroom.
But at least I can look forward to a reprieve tomorrow.
I glance over to the table where Blake, Shay, and Jamie had been sitting. They’re no longer there, so I take my phone out of my back pocket and am not surprised to see a text from Blake.
Blake Forrester
Decided to call it. Tried to find you but apparently you’re working in the back. Great bar, definitely coming back soon! See you at home.
I let out an exhausted sigh. That’s exactly what I need. For Blake to turn this bar into a regular hangout.
“Hey, you’re home early,”Blake comments when I stride into the kitchen and start rummaging through the pantry.
I shrug. “I’m covering tomorrow night so finished up a bit earlier tonight.”
“Oh. I guess you forgot about the thing at the Kellys’ place tomorrow?”
I wince. Yes, I had forgotten. What with all the boners and the creepy asshole insisting on tormenting me and the jerking off in the bathroom thing, it definitely slipped my mind that Owen’s gigantic family are holding a get together at the family house on Staten Island tomorrow. “Sorry, man, I totally forgot,”I say with an apologetic smile. “I already said I’d work. It’s not, like, a really special occasion is it?”
He waves me away in his typical good-natured fashion. “Nah, it’s fine. They do this kind of thing pretty regularly. I just thought it’d be fun for you to get to know the rest of Owen’s family.”
I give a wry shake of my head. I’ve met so many members of Owen’s family recently it feels impossible to imagine there are more of them.
“Oh, and I’m pretty sure Sunny’s going to be there,” Blake adds.
“Oh, well now I’m sold,” I deadpan, prompting Blake to let out a bark of laughter.
Sunny is our mom, and obviously I love her, but our relationship is…complicated. To start with, let’s just say she’s better taken in small doses. She’s the kind of person that everyone absolutely adores, but generally for the same qualities that make having her for a mother incredibly frustrating.
No one wants to kick off their fourth grade birthday party with a graphic re-telling of their journey down the birth canal. Or learn that their mom has been blackballed from the middle school bake sale because she “spaced” and forgot not to put pot in the brownies.
And then there’s the fact that she took off on one of her whims while I was at a summer football camp in college and just didn’t come back. Her exact words when I eventually tracked her down were,“Well, darling, you’re all grown up now, I didn’t think you needed further mothering. But let me know if you’re ever in Guatemala—I can put you in touch with my curandero.”
Needless to say, mother-son bonding isn’t my top priority at the moment.
“You’re both in the same city now,” Blake points out. “You’ll have to spend quality time with her sooner or later.”
“I’ll take later,” I say wryly, grabbing a packet of trail mix from one of the shelves in front of me. “You mind?” I ask Blake.
