“What’s this place again?” I ask, breaking them up from their gossip circle.
Carter turns a surprised eye on me as do the other guys. I’d like to think I’m a good team leader. Does my attitude always give off a welcome mat? No. Do I make it easy for anyone to approach me at work? Yes. But most of the time my guys know when to leave me alone at work. I think that’s what makes us such an efficient team.
“Blue Pint Outpost,” Prescott speaks up. “It’s a TapHouseand they recently reopened after a year-long closure of re-modeling and re-branding.”
I give him a nod and he seems to take that as my answer. I’m also one of those people who needs to know a situation before I walk into it. Is there seating? What’s on the menu? Is there parking? Is the parking free? That kind of thing. So for me to blindly trust Carter, who’s been my friend since college, says a lot about our friendship.
We slow our pace as we join a cluster of people ready to unwind after work at the crosswalk.
“Gotta say, I thought you would for sure bail at the last minute,” Carter says as he drops back next to me and slides his hands in his work slacks.
“When have I ever done that?” I ask and roll my eyes at his pointed look referring to a lot of the times I chose to stay in during college and study than go out. “Point taken.”
“I know you still tread lightly, and I respect that. But I like when you hang out with us.”
I look over at him and jump forward as the light gives us the go-ahead. “You know I like staying to myself.”
Carter snorts to a chuckle. “I’ve known this for over a decade, buddy. Can’t hurt a guy for trying.”
One word can describe mine and Carter’s friendship: unexpected.
When I decided to go to a small school in Tennessee for college, I went with the random roommate selection and got paired with a former wrestler who was as obsessed with video games as I was—like all teenage boys were—and that’s what we initially bonded over. Carter is the more outgoing of the two of us. It’s his golden retriever personality that really seals the deal and unfortunately had me in the lounge of our dorm on more than one occasion while he entertained someone. Sometimes, more than one someoneat a time. I was never one to judge, as long as he was safe and cleaned up afterward. College was the place to experiment and Carter never made his sexuality a secret. Plus, his personality, muscular physique that he refused to quit once we got to college, paired with his rich, dark mahogany skin, closely shaved hair, and a sparkling smile, drew more than enough attention to him.
I’ll admit that I wasn’t the warmest roommate in the beginning. Mostly, because I was away from my family for the first time in eighteen years. But I must have done something right as Carter asked if I wanted to be his roommate again for our sophomore year and then all the way until we graduated. It wasn’t without bumps, but now Carter and I act more like brothers than we do friends. When he decided to throw caution to the wind and move to Philly after we graduated instead of staying in Tennessee, I knew that we were stuck together for life. That friendship has only continued to strengthen while we work together at the same company.
“Here it is,” Prescott announces and weaves through foot traffic to get to the door.
My first observation is that they chose the right place to open a business. This spot is far enough from the city’s tech area but still close enough to draw in the older college crowd, along with the tech bros and nerdy guys like us.
We file in, one by one, with me in the rear, and I slide my sunglasses up onto my head as I let my eyes adjust to the new lighting.
The outside deceives what’s inside. From the heavy wooden front door and small foyer, dark speckled floor tiles cover the space until it opens up, with the bar placed in the back left corner and windows as its backdrop. Proving that the designer knows what they were doing, the back of theTapHouse opens to the patio, and from what I can see, there’s a small stage for music with tables and umbrellas covering the space.
“Find a spot wherever!” a masculine voice calls out as we stand at the front.
As I stand with my friend and co-workers, I look around at the space in wonder. I don’t go out a lot, if ever, so being around more people and in an unfamiliar space is new territory for me. It’s like exploring an entirely new world. But in my observation of this new space, I hear a hypnotic laugh coming from the right and my attention is pulled over there. It’s husky but with a twinge of sadness and when I fully turn, I see someone with a distinct stance that sends chills skittering up my spine, interacting with customers and all my focus lasers on her.
I take it as just passing by her on the street in previous days for why I might recognize her laugh, but it’s not that. One by one, the pieces connect. From her hair, which I’ll admit is a unique shade of blonde—a shade I’ve blacked out of my memory for the last two years, but her laugh that hits me in the solar plexus. That laugh I’ve heard before across the yard when our families would get together. And her laugh, while sad, feels like a hug comforting you after a bad day. That laugh is the first thing that triggers me. The second thing I notice, and probably the most important thing I notice, is when she turns around and our eyes meet. I’m seeing the eyes of someone I never expected to see. Someone I’ve never spoken to in the two decades of our family’s intertwined history, locks eyes with mine, and seeing her now is wiping my brain of any and all rational thought.
Angela Taylor.
2
ANGIE
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
“Ready for today?” my manager, Hannah, asks.
I finish my clock-in routine and turn to her. “First Friday opened? Absolutely. Do you think we advertised enough?”
“Are you kidding me?” Hannah asks with humor laced in her question. “Angie, you did what I couldn’t and marketed the hell out of this place.”
I preen at the praise she’s given to me. Helping Hannah market the grand reopening of Blue Pint Outpost was the easiest thing I’ve done in years. Plus, having the TapHouse so close to the street with the hospital, firehouse, and the local university nearby has been a breeze, knowing that those close by are excited for our reopening.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just let me know if you need a break.” She pats me on the arm before heading off to walk around the space like she’s done a thousand times already.
