Page 82 of Bastard Bartender

My phone lights up on the bar, and I see a text from Tom.

New York agreed to our counteroffer! Congratulations, Evette! We did it!

The swoosh instantly disappears.

In its place is dread. With the hectic week I’ve had, I didn’t put too much stock into the Madison Square Garden job because Tom and I hadn’t heard back from them immediately. I took it as they’d moved on to other candidates.

“Everything okay?” Marie asks.

“Yeah. I just have something going on at work.” I’d tell Marie, but I want to make this choice on my own before I allow anyone to influence me into staying or going.

Dro saunters over and stands next to us. His face looks defeated. I push aside my own anxiety to talk to him.

“Swing and a miss?” I ask, to which he nods.

“On a scale of one to ten, that girl is a thirty. I gave it everything I got but failed.”

Marie rubs his back. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Nah. I’m good. I have to keep my head clear for tomorrow. Nic and I are going BASE jumping.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “You’re doing what?”

Dro’s eyes look back from me to Marie, as if confused by my concerned reaction. “BASE jumping,” he says slowly.

Nic is back and notices our expressions. “What did I miss?”

“Dro was just telling us your plans for tomorrow,” Marie says.

“It’s going to be epic!” Nic lifts a fist for Dro to pound.

My mouth is dry at the thought of Nic free-falling again. I couldn’t handle it when he was skydiving, and this is ten times worse. “Have you done it before?”

“First time for everything.” He shrugs and then tilts his head. “Come on, babe. Don’t give me that face. Do you even know what it’s all about?”

“I’ve seen Last Holiday with Queen Latifah. I know you wear those unattractive wing suits and plummet yourself off a structure. I also know that Kragen character shit his pants because it’s fucking scary.” I take a huge swallow of my drink. “Where are you doing this anyway?”

Dro laughs. “We can’t tell you because it’s illegal in almost every American park and city. If we tell you, we’d have to kill you.”

“It’s illegal because it’s dangerous!”

Nic leans over the bar and kisses the top of my head. “You’re cute when you worry. Don’t worry. We’re working with the best crew in the country.”

The guys start ribbing each other and continue the excitement about their jump. Meanwhile, Marie and I sit here, her looking uneasy and me fighting off this terrible feeling in my gut.

* * *

We sat at the bar for another hour before I got a headache and wanted to come home. Two Tylenol later, and my head feels better, but my stomach is a mess. I’ve been on my iPad for the last two hours, researching BASE jumping.

The recreational sport of jumping from a fixed object using a parachute to descend safely to the ground is considered the most dangerous, extreme sport. The fatality and injury rates are forty-three times higher than that of parachuting from a plane.

I’ve watched videos of successful jumps and some horrific unsuccessful ones. My mind is reeling with the thought of Nic being an unfortunate statistic.

I’m biting my thumbnail, scrolling through my web browser when there’s a knock at my door. I don’t usually get company at two in the morning, so I look cautiously through the peephole and then quickly open the door in surprise.

“Nic, what are you doing here?”

He’s still wearing his uniform—black pants, a shirt, and that killer smile that turns me to putty.