I ring him up, and when I return his card, he tosses a ten-dollar bill into the tip jar.
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, young lady.” As he steps away, he turns back one more time. “Honey, men usually become less idiotic as they age. Just remember that. He seems to me to be a man who doesn’t know what to do with how he’s feeling.”
I smile and look at my next customer. “How can I help you?”
To his credit, Harrison stays away. Then, the announcer notifies the crowd that the award ceremony portion of the night will begin in fifteen minutes, and the bar will close for the duration of the ceremony. Some regulars I’ve had tonight makea mad dash for the bar to get one last order in before sitting through what’s potentially going to be a bunch of boring awards.
Things are crazy busy for the next fifteen minutes, and even though we’ve only been here a few hours, some patrons have been up to the bar enough times that I already know what they’ll purchase. I hope they’re planning on ridesharing or staying in the hotel overnight.
At the start of the presentations, the emcee recognizes regional nominations and category winners. When it comes to the main award, a young man takes the stage. He tells the story of himself as a thirteen-year-old boy, pissed off at the world because his dad had left. His mom, a single mom, worked her butt off, and they lived with his grandmother. The only male influence in his life was an uncle, who had no interest in spending time with him.
He speaks about how his mom applied for him to receive a mentor through the organization, and how he thought it was the stupidest thing in the world. That gets some chuckles from the crowd.
He entertains us with a few stories of how he put the guy through the wringer, testing him. But the vibe in the room becomes subdued when he says he convinced himself to make the man leave before he had the chance to go on his own. He pauses and clears his throat.
“But that man didn’t go,” he says. “And he honestly wasn’t much older than I am now. Heck, I can’t imagine being that mature at the age he was.”
He swallows hard.
“He showed up every week. When I started letting him in, just a little, I learned so much. I learned what it meant to be there for someone else, what it meant to give your time. He taught me that it doesn’t always matter if someone’s family by blood—someone whochoosesto be in your life and helps youbecome a better person. That’s the family that’s sometimes more valuable than the one you’re born into.”
He pauses and takes a drink of water.
“I graduated from college in May. I’ve got a great job at a financial firm, and a brilliant, gorgeous fiancée. And there’s no doubt in my mind that if my mentor hadn’t come into my life almost ten years ago, I would be in a very different place tonight. I shudder to think about the kind of man I would be without the love and guidance of one young man who never left.”
He peers out at the crowd.
“I ask you to stand with me and give a round of applause to the recipient of the Mentor of the Year award—my mentor, Holden Aron.”
Applause breaks out, and I gasp. I’m honestly a little shocked. Not because I don’t think Holden would do something so kind. Even though he likes to play the clown, he’s got a kind and generous heart. My awe stems from the fact that he’s already been so dedicated to someone for so long.
I turn and look at the table where I know he’s sitting—because of course I followed Harrison with my eyes when he returned to his seat earlier. His brothers take turns hugging Holden, clapping him on the back, and then he makes his way to the stage.
The young man embraces him, and when Holden steps up to the mic, he’s wiping tears off his face with the backs of his hands. His speech is beautiful—eloquent yet funny—and he finishes with a call to action for other men in the room to step up. To be there for boys and young men who need it.
When he’s finished his acceptance speech, the entire room stands again in applause. He steps off the stage, taps his heart, then looks up and mouths something.
Happiness for Holden wells up inside of me. That, and deep admiration.
I glance at Becca—tears roll down her cheeks. We both chuckle, and I hand her a paper towel to wipe her face. We take a moment, then we get back to prepping for the last hour of the evening—ensuring we have enough clean glasses, lemon slices, and garnishes. When all is ready, I wash my hands and reach for a paper towel to dry them.
That’s when I catch sight of Harrison seated at a high-top table in the back of the room, watching me.
He looks… remorseful. I can’t tear my eyes off of him.
“Delaney?”
I blink, realizing Becca’s talking to me, and I totally missed it. “Huh?”
She follows my gaze.
“I see,” she says, grinning.
I glance at her. “Sorry.”
“You have ten more minutes. Why don’t you take a couple and go talk to him?”
