I shrug. “I don’t care. Do you?”
Her head rocks back and forth. “I don’t love the idea of people at work thinking I only have my job because we’re sleeping together or something, but beyond that, no, I don’t care.”
Guilt snakes through my veins. She doesn’t have her job because she was sleeping with me when I offered it to her, but she does have it for another reason that doesn’t have much to do with her skill, although she’s shocked even me with how good at her job she is.
“If anyone at the club has something to say, send them my way.” I pull her back into me and kiss her, not caring who sees.
Three hours later, we leave Von’s, and both of us are pretty tipsy. Well, I’m tipsy. Hattie seems like she’s moving into the steadily drunk area. Tonight was her first night drinking hard liquor. She was game to try almost anything, so we picked a bunch of things off the menu and had a liquid dinner. We ordered food, but it sat mostly untouched in favor of the alcohol.
I’m getting a glimpse of what Hattie is like when her walls are down and she’s had a few drinks, and I understand better why she acted the way she did the night she burst into my office, demanding to know the nature of my relationship with Steph.
We hold hands as we walk down the sidewalk, and she swings our arms between us like a child might do to their parent if they were holding hands.
“That was so much fun! I want to do it again!”
I give her an amused grin. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning when you have to get up for work.”
She guffaws. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“You say that now.”
“I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
I laugh and keep walking, but she pulls me to a stop. When I turn to look at her, she’s staring across the street.
“What?” I ask, unsure what she’s staring at wide-eyed.
“It’s a country bar! Oh my god, Bast, I haven’t been to one like that since I was in college. Can we go?” She puts her hands in a prayer pose. “Please? Can we?”
“What the lady wants, the lady gets.” I lead her by the hand over to the curb. “Let’s go.”
We enter the bar, and it’s pretty much what I would expect from a country western bar—lots of wood, a decent-sized dance floor though there doesn’t appear to be any line dancing going on, and a live band on stage.
I notice an empty table for two at the edge of the dance floor, and I point it out to Hattie before guiding her over there. It’s clear as soon as we sit down that she’s ecstatic. The server comes over to take our drink order, and though I suggest maybe she sit this one out, Hattie insists on ordering a beer—her first apparently—and I do the same.
Once the server walks away, she leans in over the table and speaks loudly enough so I can hear her. “I feel like I’m back in college. I never drank when I went, but there was a place just off campus that had a really great live band and played all my favorites. I haven’t been to a place like this since I lived in Tennessee.”
“When was that, six months ago?” I chuckle.
She rolls her eyes at me. “We can’t all be your age, Grandpa.”
The laugh that barks out of me is a surprise.
The band starts a new song, and Hattie claps excitedly. She sings along at the top of her lungs, loudly enough that I can hear her clearly.
Earlier tonight she told me that she was never a part of the church choir because she can’t sing worth shit (her words, not mine). Turns out she’s right. But it’s still cute as fuck to see her not have a care in the world as she sings along, having the time of her life.
The server returns with our drinks, and we clink the necks of the bottles, each taking a sip. Hattie’s face contorts in disgust, and after she swallows, she does a whole body shake.
“I think I found the first kind of alcohol I don’t like.” She stares at the bottle as though it’s personally offended her, and I can’t help but smile.
“Just set it on the table and don’t drink it then.” I’m going to have to carry her home if she has much more anyway.
Hattie looks at me like “as if” and takes another swig. I can only shake my head and laugh.
“So do you think you’ll go back to that church again after today, or will you try to find another one?”
She considers it for a moment. “I think maybe I’m done with church for a bit. I feel like I need to develop my own relationship with God separate from organized religion.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll go back at some point and find a community again, but for now, this is what feels right.”
