“Nice work,” he says. “Now for the whipped cream and the cherry.”
I top it with a generous swirl of whipped cream, add a straw, and place a single cherry in the center.
I thank him and return to the bar, placing the float in front of Aaron. He frowns at it. “Did you make this?”
I shake my head.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“I put the order in.”
His eyes are still locked on mine as he lowers his lips to the straw and takes a deep haul. His brow furrows, and he makes a face that looks like he’s in pain. “Ahhh,” he groans and presses his fingers against his temples. It takes me a moment to realize he’s given himself brain freeze.
“How is it?”
“It’s fine,” he grits through clenched teeth, still holding his head.
“Great.” I give him one of my bright smiles and move on to the next customer.
A few minutes later I bring the barbecue sauce and silverware over and set them on the bar in front of Aaron, who has managed to polish off his float.
“So it was just fine, then?”
“I was thirsty.”
“Do you want another one?”
He purses his lips and looks at the empty glass and then at me. “Yeah,” he says on a sigh.
I want to know what it is about me that he finds so irritating. I try to take the glass, but he covers my hand with his. I can’t tell if it’s the temperature of the glass or the unexpected contact, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m not finished with it yet. Can I get a spoon for the rest of the ice cream? One of those ones they use for sundaes.”
“Sure.”
I grab him a spoon, then get to work making another root beer float. This time I don’t need Tanner’s help.
And this time, when I set it in front of Aaron, he gives me a small, reluctant smile and mutters a barely audible thank-you.
At the end of the night, I help Louis clean the bar—it is not an enjoyable part of the job—and put all the chairs up on the tables.
“So?” I grab my purse from under the bar once everything is done. “What’s the verdict?”
“Huh?” Louis asks as he counts out the dollar bills that filled the tip jar.
“Did I pass the test? Do I get the job?” I sure hope so, since I’ve spent the last nine hours on my feet, serving a lot of stinky beer to a lot of people. And I need to have a discussion with Louis about the wine selection. I had a sip of the red, out of curiosity. I would rather drink an entire bottle of vinegar than try to consume a glass of that stuff.
“Oh. Yeah. Absolutely. You passed with flying colors. You okay with working Thursdays? It’s just as busy as it was tonight. I have a couple of people for the weekends, but I could use another set of hands on payday, and customers love you, so yeah, if you’re available, you’re hired.”
“I’m totally available.”
“Fantastic. I’ll send you home with some paperwork. You get standard server wage plus tips. And did I hear right, you’re Van Firestone’s sister?”
“I am.”
He regards me thoughtfully for a moment. “You mind me asking you a personal question?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“You, uh, don’t really look like you need a job tending bar.”
“That’s more of an observation, not a question,” I point out.
“Hmm. You’re right. Do you need the job?”
I smile. “I want the job.” It’s the easiest and most truthful answer. I want to figure out who I am and what I like, and the best way to do that is to try a bunch of new things.
“Fair enough.” He pushes a stack of bills toward me. “That’s your share for tonight. See you next Thursday.”
“See you next Thursday.” I head for the door. “And Louis.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
CHAPTER 5
NEW BEGINNINGS
Teagan
I head back to Chicago on Sunday afternoon. I didn’t sleep well last night thanks to my nerves, but with two new jobs secured in Pearl Lake, the move makes sense. I need this. I need to take control of my life and start doing things for me instead of everyone else. This is the mental pep talk I give myself all the way home.
Danielle’s red Camry is parked beside my dad’s matching white one. I back the ancient truck into the driveway—Van gave me a lesson before I left this afternoon—and park in front of my dad’s car.
I don’t leave the truck right away. Instead I take a few calming breaths, not that it’s particularly effective, considering I stopped and picked up an energy drink on my way here and there are only one or two sips left.
I glance at my purse, debating whether I should go ahead and take one of my antianxiety pills before I go inside and talk to my dad. This move is kind of a major life decision. I give in and grab my purse, find the bottle in the bottom, and pop one of the tiny pills into my mouth. I give myself a few more minutes to collect myself before I get out of the truck.