Page 110 of Wrecked

Score one for Adam for being sweet times a thousand. It trumps my spicy by a long shot.

He gets in his car and drives off. As I pull away, I look through my rearview mirror and see another car in the distance, pulled over onto the side of the road. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a red, Mercedes-Benz. I only know one person who drives a car like that.

I turn around and start driving toward Victoria’s car. As soon I see her sitting in the driver’s side, she hits the gas and speeds down the road. By the time I make another U-turn and am about to catch up to her, she’s entering the highway and weaving through cars.

I slam my hand on my steering while and curse into the empty car, “Crap!”

Like déjà vu in the nightmare that has been the last few weeks, I can’t find Victoria.

chapter TWENTY-FIVE

“Who the heck is texting you so much that you can’t put your phone down?” Suzanne asks from the other side of the bar.

I bite my lip at the text Adam just sent.

It’s a picture of assless chaps with the message:

Would you rather have me or McConaughey in these?

My answer:

McConaughey.

He replies with a series of red devil-face emojis. I reply with angels and a couple of kissy faces before sliding the phone into my pocket.

“No one. Just my stupid brother being an idiot,” I reply with my head down.

I know she’s looking at me, waiting for some sort of answer. Suzanne and I have been best friends since we were kids. She knows there is something going on between Adam and me, but I don’t want to tell her about it just yet. There are too many open-ended things, and to be honest, I kind of like the forbidden nature of our relationship. The secret notes, texts, meeting on the side of the road are all a part of the thrill of our courtship. I’m not ready to let that go.

I make a couple of rounds of drinks. Candace and Noreen are filling up the tip jar faster than most nights. Tonight is Fire and Ice night. I had the staff spend all week practicing making a few specialty drinks, and it’s going over well.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I know the time is coming up. I clear the bar of any drinks, straws, and napkins. Then, I ask everyone to grab their belongings from the top of the bar. I wipe it down and wait for my cue.

Paulie plays “Lit Up” by Buckcherry for the hourly fun we have planned. I take the lighter fluid and pour a long line down the bar. Noreen and Candace tell everyone to stand back.

“All right, all right, all right, where are all my party people tonight?” I shout from behind the bar.

The crowd cheers, ready to get their night started.

I pull out the lighter and hold it in the air. “Who’s ready to set this place on fire?” I ask.

I listen as they chant louder. I put the lighter to the fluid and watch it go up in flames. People clap, and others cheer while some jump back. The flame isn’t actually that big. It’s more for effect.

“Flaming Doctor Peppers for the next hour!”

When the flame dies down, I line the bar with shot glasses and pour amaretto into each of them. We served flaming B-52s the last hour and couldn’t keep up with the demand. This way, the drinks will be ready when someone orders one.

The girls fill drafts of Yuengling into pint glasses as the orders are made. They’ll take the shot glasses, add rum, and light them on fire before dropping them into the drafts for people to chug.

After forty-five minutes, Paulie drops a bucket of dry ice in the corner and lets it waft over the back area. I made him play “Break the Ice” by Britney Spears, and if he wasn’t already morally bound to sell the bar to me, he would have reneged on the deal.

The night is long and one of the most exhausting we’ve ever had. But it’s a moneymaker. As the crowd parties on, I see we’re running low on rum. The barback has been busting his ass all night, so I decide to take it easy on him and walk to the back to get it myself.

I’m walking past the office when I see Paulie standing in there, looking at the monitor. A smile is on his face. I catch myself on the doorframe and swing my body into the office.

“Whatcha doing there?” I ask.

His thick white mustache hides his mouth, so sometimes, it takes a moment for me to figure out if he’s happy or sad. He’s just looking back at the security monitors, the ones that show the inside of the bar. A look of astonishment is in his eyes.