The computer beeps, and my hope fades in aninstant.
“You have excellent credit, Mr. Sampson. But with the decline in your income over the past six months, Sound Trust can’t extend a loan to you at this time. We do offer a credit card with a ten-thousand-dollar cash advance and an annual percentage rate of twenty-nine-point-seven percent.” He ends his spiel with a smile, and it takes everything I have not to snatch the file folder from his hands and introduce him to some of the more colorful phrases I learned inthenavy.
“No, thank you.” The words struggle to escape through gritted teeth. “Can I talk to your manager? Plead my case? I know my membership numbers haven’t been the greatest lately, but the Horizon program will attract an entirely new set of customers—one that can’t find the classes they needanywhereelse.”
Sympathy swims in the young man’s gaze. “The computer’s decision is final, sir. I’m verysorry.”
* * *
Garrett slidesthe frosty pint glass across the bar. “On the house. You look like someone stole yourpuppy.”
“Another day, another bank telling me I’m not worth the risk.” The icy lager soothes my raw nerves. “They’ll let me take out a cash advance on a credit card,though.”
“Let me guess? Thirty percent interest?” He shakes his head. “Fuckers. By the time I got the money to buy this place, a couple of the bank managers knew me onsight.”
“How’d you finally pull it off?” Though half of Libations’ tables sit empty, most of the locals aren’t off work yet. By 7:00 p.m., the hostess will have to turnpeopleaway.
With a dry laugh, Garrett slams a glass down on a cocktail shaker. “I came up with half of the down payment on my own. Saved every fucking penny. Stopped going out, ate ramen a couple times a week, taught a few craft cocktail classes for the local grocery co-op, took odd jobs whenever Icould.”
Ryker’s visit still weighs on me. “One of the guys I…helped…get out of Afghanistan offered me a job last week. Five large for a fewdays’work.”
Garrett whistles. “What’s the problem, then?” He sets the drink on a tray for one of his servers, then leans a hip against the back wall and rubs his thigh. Most people would never guess that he lost a leg in Afghanistan, but on his bad days, the limp isobvious.
“It’s K&R work on foreign soil. High value targets, high risk. That’s not my world anymore.” Even as I finish the sentence, I know I don’t have a choice. Two jobs and I’d have enough to pay for the insurance on the Horizon program for kidsandfor adults. Half a dozen missions and I could open in a new location far away from that fucking CrossFitstudio.
“Listen,” Garret says as he braces his hands on the bar. “If I’d had the chance—and the ability—to make that kind of money that fast before I got the loan for Libations, I would have jumpedatit.”
“Hey, stranger!” Lilah, Garrett’s fiancé, lays a delicate hand on my shoulder as she leans in to kiss my cheek. “Where’ve you been? We haven’t seen you since the engagementparty.”
“Playing a lotofHalo.”
“Huh?” She yelps then laughs as Garrett swoops in from behind her, grabs her around the waist, and spins her before capturing her lips in asearingkiss.
“Explain,” she says once she’s seated next to me with a Long Wet Kiss—the drink Garrett invented for her long before they fell in love. “What’s Halo? Or…who’sHalo?”
“Halo’san Xbox game. Though I did meet someone.” Longing stirs inside me as memories of Cam laughing, Cam sipping espresso, Cam naked and moaning rise to thesurface.
Lilah quirks a brow and waits for me toexplain.
“Cam is…” As I try to come up with words worthy of Cam, Garrett twines his fingers with Lilah’s across the bar for just a moment before he starts on another drink order. The tender gesture is probably an unconscious one on his part, and their love shines brighter than the spotlights on the multi-colored bottles that line the bar. “Lilah, hang on a sec.” I lean forward. “Garrett, would you take thatjobnow?”
He meets my gaze, a bottle of bourbon held aloft. “No. Not achance.”
* * *
Cam
As I dig into my chicken piccata, I replay the day’s events, and anger and frustration simmer. Sure, Royce apologized. But he didn’tsayanything. Notreally.
What’s worse? I let him get awaywithit.
Sometimes I think I’m more of a coward than he is. He opened the door. Why didn’t I take that time to push—delicately—about his mood the past few weeks? Or all the other crap between us that’s been unsaid forsolong?
Answer: because I might have lost him completely. And I’m afraid that would break me, yetagain.
At least West is waiting for me, and once I sign in to Xbox Live and take my first sip of wine, I relax. “Ready to submit to my superior alien-fightingprowess?”
West chuckles. “Bring it,angel.”
