She lifts a pierced brow. “Mermaid puns? Really?”
“Can’t take the sparkly mermaid out of me even with a knife.”
“But I could try.” She flashes a wicked grin.
“How was your shift?” I don’t mind discussing my future, but Alice doesn’t always take it seriously. But at least she understands it’s what I love, unlike my mother, who thinks I’m wasting away at a dead-end job.
Alice sighs dramatically and stretches her arms out to pop her shoulder blades. “I’m not sure if you noticed during your show, but a tall guy who eats steroids for breakfast threw up all over my bar. Some splashed on Hannah’s heels. Damn nasty! And they wanted me to mop it up! Me! The only bartender who knows how to mix drinks correctly and when to call a customer a rideshare.” She unties the black apron and opens her locker, tossing it inside. “The nerve!”
My head bobs, showing I’m listening but not daring to interrupt. I did that once, and the conversation lasted three hours. Ranging from rude customers who don’t tip to problems with our healthcare. When Alice falls into a rant, anything on her mind goes, and it could take all night.
“Almost forgot, I have a surprise for you,” she says, digging into her purse and grabbing a brush, as she attempts to tame her long black mane of hair.
“Are you going to leave me in suspense or what?” I change out of my shell bra into a black, lacy one.
“Sorry. You know me and my hair.” Alice laughs and grabs her pink, blinged-out phone. She pulls something up and hands it over. “Check it out.”
I set my mermaid tail on the bench and drape the towel I was about to dry it with over my shoulder. Her phone is open to a ticket app. I read the name of the artist she has tickets to and scream.
Alice covers her ears and laughs. “Girl, you got siren lungs.” She pokes my chest with her long, pink fingernail.
“Is this for real?” I glance at the date. The show is tonight. “What the hell? It’s tonight? Why didn’t you—”
“Because I didn’t want you to somehow find a way to get out of it. You’ve been locked up in the apartment for weeks since—”
“The incident. I know.” I sigh, wishing my ex didn’t pop into my mind and rain on my parade. “This is amazing, but you’re mean for keeping it from me,” I joke, sticking my tongue out at her.
My phone buzzes with a text. The name “ASSHOLE” in all caps causes my stomach to drop. Speak of the devil, and he appears. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, but Alice must see the panicked expression on my face because she steals my phone.
“What the hell? He who doesn’t have a name anymore is texting you? I don’t think so.”
She unlocks my phone. I curse under my breath. Why did I let her know my passcode?
“Give it back!” But it’s pointless to fight her when she’s on a mission. Alice is five inches taller than me, and I swear she has the arms of an elegant tattooed dancer that could reach the heavens. Where my phonecurrently is. The roses and skulls inked on her skin mock me, knowing I could never be brave enough to stomp on her foot to get my phone back.
She types something and gives a satisfied nod, handing me back the device. “You need to block his ass for good.”
“I know.” I slip on a gray oversized T-shirt and step into my flip-flops.
What happened between him and me is still too fresh to talk about.
Alice runs her hands over her tight black jeans. “He’s yesterday’s trash. We need to go home and change. The doors open in two hours.”
“Yes!” I allow the excitement to push away the thought of my ex and whatever Alice replied to him.
Tonight, I will see my favorite band, Scarlet Failure, live. Because Alice always finds a way, even into a sold-out concert.
She hooks her arm with mine and pulls me toward the exit. “Let’s go!”
Nothing cures a broken heart faster than a loud, head-banging concert. I can’t wait to be standing at the base of the stage right in front of their sexy bass guitarist, Sully Graham. This is the push I need to get out of my funk and finally be myself again.
2
“Thewaitiskillingme,” I say, twisting my silver mermaid-tail ring, the amethyst catching the dim light as it spins around my finger. “Are there too many people in front of us?”
For the third time, I step out of line, scanning the crowd, my pulse ticking higher with every extra head I count. Were there always this many, or have some sneaky line-cutters wedged their way in? My jaw tightens. If I lose my spot at the base of the stage because of some entitled wannabe front-row thieves, there will be consequences. And by consequences, I mean a few bruised ribs, an “accidental” elbow to the face, or a well-placed stomp on some unsuspecting toes.
“Will youpleasestop counting?” Alice sinks her fingernails into my arm, pulling me back against the brick wall beside her. “You’re making me anxious.” She pouts as a mom and her son walk down the sidewalk with ice cream cones. “I can’t believe you got me standing here before the doors open. I’m starving.”
