“Fine. Fuck you then.” Lisa stands, pulling a wad of crumpled bills from her jean skirt. She tosses them on the desk, and I let out a little moan at the sight of all the money she’s stolen.
“Oh myGod.”
“I don’t know what your problem is,” Lisa says. “You can afford it.”
My head nearly explodes. “I can afford it? I can’t even afford Netflix. Everything this bar makes goes into wages!”
“Bullshit. You don’t charge your alco friend, and she’s drinking here every night.”
The red in my vision grows bloodier. “Ada puts money into the Afterglow account for everything she drinks here. Everything sheeatshere. More than that. Fucking hell, Lisa, you’ve worked here for almost a year. Do you think it’s a coincidence all the cutlery just got replaced or how all the hand towels are new? That was Ada!”
“I didn’t know.”
“Because it’s not your fucking business! About me, or Ada, or how I run this bar!”
A scream boils in my throat, and I want to let loose, grab heraround the throat and shake her, and then he’s there, again, saving me from myself. Davis’s arms are around me, holding me in place, firm and grounding. Over the blood rushing in my ears, I catch the low rumble of his voice, saying things to Lisa likerestitution,trespassandno reference.
He eases me into my desk chair, then ushers Lisa past, her protests trailing down the hall, how her last bar didn’t care if she ‘took her tips home,’ how this is workplace harassment, how I’ve got a stick wedged up my ass.
The tightness in my chest is back. I let it squeeze until it forces its way up to my skull and bursts. Tears track down my cheeks in rivers, and it’s glorious and repulsive to fully give in to the emotions I’ve been keeping locked up for so long. I yank a tissue from the box on my desk and blow my nose like a foghorn. Then I collapse with my head on my knees.
“Cece?” Davis calls from the hall. “Are you—oh.”
I watch his boots enter my office, tears running down my face. “What’s wrong, Davis? Never seen a girl mid-breakdown before?”
All the fluttery warmth from earlier is gone. Lisa’s been stealing from me. Davis is secretly in love with Ada. Will Sharpe probably only commented on my Afterglow post out of pity. Everything is fucked.
Davis bends close to me. “Can I do anything?”
“Sure,” I hiccup. “Be a doll and torch the bar for me. I need the insurance payout.”
“I’m not going to do that. But I’ll be right back.”
I stay bent double and ugly cry until Davis returns.
“I think you need this,” he says.
I look up and see he’s holding a rocks glass filled with something clear. “Water?”
“Gin.”
Close enough. I take it and slug a mouthful. It burns on the way down like disinfectant. Another gulp scorches deeper, cauterising the soft, ragged parts of my soul. By the time it’s almost empty, I’ve stopped crying. But now shamehas arrived. I’m embarrassed by what I admitted to Lisa in front of Davis—that I couldn’t afford matching cutlery until my best friend stepped in. Remembering Ada’s generosity brings on a fresh surge of shame. I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.
I love you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re the best.
Davis drags the spare chair beside mine and sits down, tossing his phone on the desk. His long, black denim-clad legs stretch in front of him. He takes my mostly empty gin glass and sips. I watch, fascinated by his beauty. He looks like a fallen angel, cursed to make a living bouncing at dive bars. Every guy I’ve ever dated has looked the same. That clean-cut, tennis player aesthetic. Polo shirts and chinos, and a personality that screams ‘ask me about crypto.’
A first-year psych student could clock why. I want the dream: a picket fence and two-point-five kids, so I’ve always dated safe. But Davis? He’s not safe. Heisa crypto guy, or something like that, but he’s also sarcastic and has a body built for sin. That’s how I know this weird, magnetic thing between us is just lust. I think back to us behind the bar earlier, and misery floods me. Davis might be happy to make out in a heated moment, but in the end, he’ll probably end up with someone as edgy as he is. Someone like Ada. The thought stabs like a knife in my already aching heart.
As if summoned by my suspicions, Ada’s name flashes across Davis’s phone.
“Yeah?” Davis answers.
Ada’s voice blares through the speakers. “Why did Cece just send me a text that sounds like a suicide note?”
I roll my eyes at Davis. “I just told her I love her. Trust Ada to think that’s a cry for help.”
“Cece’s a little… upset,” Davis says, glancing at me. “She just had to sack Lisa for stealing. It was rough.”
