The Bird Building wasn't a mall. Basically, it was a ninety-year-old two-story brick monster in midtown, the ground floor a neat line of retail spaces facing the street. First were a couple of empty shops, the windows covered in aging notices of bands playing in town, lost dogs, street fairs, and the like. Next was the Guitar Den, a tattoo parlor called Inkaho, then the Dive Bar taking up the prestigious corner position.
The Beatles played, filling the warm evening air along with the sounds of cutlery and glassware, the hum of chatter. It flowed through the open windows and doorway of the Dive Bar out onto the quiet street. It looked like they had a decent-size crowd for a Sunday. People flocked to town each summer, but most seemed to stay downtown by the lake. I bet the bars and shops there would be full. Midtown, away from the water, tended to be quieter. More for locals.
With a hand hovering at my lower back, Vaughan ushered me along the sidewalk.
"I'm not going to make a run for it," I said, yet again tucking my hair behind my ears, straightening out the imaginary creases in my black linen button-up top.
The side eyes he gave me were full of doubt. "The thought never crossed my mind."
"Liar."
"The fact that I had to manhandle you out of the car--"
"Signifies nothing more than how very cool I think your car is."
"Right." I could tell he was laughing at me on the inside. "Come on, single lady."
*
Not so subtly, he took hold of my elbow. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he expected some great escape attempt to happen at any moment.
Liking people was a bitch. Same with giving your word.
As we approached the building, I said, "I've been thinking about your money dramas. Wondering if I can help?"
He licked his lips. "You'll pretty much do anything to delay this, won't you?"
"I'm serious, I've been worrying about you all day, what with Nell not being able to buy the house like you'd hoped. I realize we haven't known each other for long, but I'd like to help somehow if I can."
A sigh. "I'm going to have to sell it to someone else. It's going to suck, but that's where my situation's at."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks." He wiped a hand over his face. "Don't suppose you'd like to rethink your leaving town plan and make an offer?"
"I wish I had that kind of money. And a job." A couple of years in real estate had enabled me to make a start on some savings. Nothing like what the Sanders Beach home would fetch, however. "I could give you some advice on the market, point you in the direction of a good agent and so on."
"Yeah, ah ... let's talk about this another time. All right?"
"Sure. Whenever you're ready."
"Thanks."
A couple of young women passed us by, one doing a double take when she saw me. Next thing you knew, her mouth was going rapid fire against her friend's ear. The friend turned back to look at me, giggling. Ugh.
"Maybe tonight's a bit soon," I said, edging back a step. "I mean, you need to concentrate on the bar and, really, Nell will be busy cooking, so--"
In one smooth move, he stepped in front of me, turning so we were face-to-face. His hands grabbed hold of my hips, drawing operation "get the hell out of here" to an abrupt halt. "Lydia?"
I blinked. "Vaughan?"
"We're going in there and it's going to be okay."
"I'm not so sure about that."
He swallowed, stopping a moment to think. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"Everyone could point and laugh at me, forcing me to relive the shame and horror of yesterday."
"Yeah, true." Fingers rubbed at the wide hips of my jeans as he held his face down close to mine. Not doing anything, just being there. "How'd you get through yesterday, though?"
"Running away, you, sarcasm, violence, and last but not least, tequila."
"You can have everything today apart from the running away," he said. "How's that sound?"
"You want me to answer that honestly?"
"Nope. You're going to have fun, Lydia."
I highly doubted it, but it would be impolite to say so.
"And if anyone in there gives you shit, I'll punch them for you."
"My hand still hurts from yesterday, so thanks. I appreciate that."
"No problem."
We stood, staring at each other, smiling for one perfect moment. Then I smacked myself in the forehead. "Crap. It's your first night at work and I'm putting all my drama on you again."
He hung his head. "Yeah, you are."
"I'm so sorry."
Such a long and gusty exhalation. The man had big lungs. Also, bad friends, namely me.
"Vaughan?"
"On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can't get enough of it." Little lines appeared on his forehead as his hands demonstrated the apparently bouncy-boob-like motions in front of his chest. "I'm tempted just to say shit to get you started, I love it so much."
In the face of his broad grin, I had nothing.
Actually, that's a lie. "I felt bad, you asshat."
The good-looking asshole just smiled. Far in the distance the first star started twinkling and doing its thing in the gray and violet sky. Mountains loomed dark and ominous in the distance. Nature, the show-off. But it had nothing on Vaughan standing there, smiling. Lust, like, or whatever this was ... I had it in the worst way. Maybe if he seemed in a good mood after finishing work, I'd raise my new-friends-having-sex idea with him. We were both only in town for a few days and the clock was ticking. His gaze flickered between my boobs and face, never quite settling on one or the other.
Nipples are little beasts, always reacting to everything, especially when you'd rather they be discreet. There's a reason titillation starts with the word "tit." So of course they got hard now, reveling in his attention. Ever so quickly, I crossed my arms, covering them up.
"I don't even..." The words, they disappeared. "You make no sense. I mean, they're covered. My shirt is buttoned up past any and all hint of cleavage."
"Doesn't matter. I can still see the shape of them. It's enough to keep a man like me happy."
"It's like you have some sort of breast obsessive-compulsive disorder. Have you considered seeking counseling for your addiction?"
He sighed, face carefully set. "Nothing wrong with a man admiring a fine female chest. But if you disagree, feel free to hold it against me."
I rolled my eyes.
*
"Right, so we've discussed both my shit and your shit. Are we done here?" he asked in an abrupt return to serious. "Can we go inside now?"
"Let's."
A nod.
"You're going to be great," I said, all enthused.
"You're the one who's nervous, not me. I'm all good, babe," he teased.
"Very funny. Call me babe one more time and I'm out of here."
Instead, he firmly guided me up the couple of front stairs and through the old glass doors.
Even though he might not have been nervous, I wasn't so sure about his general state of mind. I think going to work for Nell was messing with his Zen cool guy guitarist philosophy big-time. Combine that with memorizing prices, cocktail recipes, the location of everything, keeping up with orders, keeping out of any other bartender's way, restocking, and doing everything else involved in tending a bar and Vaughan had a busy night ahead of him. Hell, I think all of it, being back in town, breathing the northern Idaho air, living in what had once been his childhood home, his parents being gone, it had to be all screwing with his head. Add in the money woes and his band breaking up for extra damage. I couldn't help but feel for him. We'd both had dreams go lopsided.
All day, he'd kept close, helping me find, then clean and pack, my belongings. We didn't talk about anything deep and meaningful. Mostly just movies and music and places he'd been. Stories from life on the road. I'd gotten the
distinct sensation that he wanted to keep himself occupied.
Understandable. Drama, gah. We'd both had our fill.
When we walked in I didn't notice any recognizable faces, but I was still a wee bit agitated to be out in public.
"I'm here to be wowed by your bartending skills," I said, slowly moving through the maze of customers and tables.
"Uh-huh. I'll be sure to juggle some bottles and shit, light something on fire while I make your espresso martini." He flicked the word off his tongue like pronouncing it was a trick all its own. "Or are you more of a margarita girl, hmm?"
"Today, I'm more of a water and ice girl. If you feel like getting fancy, Mr. Bartender, I'll take a slice of lemon on the side. A straw, maybe."
"Yeah?" Only a small smile curved his lips. Not nervous, my ass. He might be better than me at hiding things, but those things lingered there just beneath the surface nonetheless. Anyone willing to watch and care could see.
"Still feeling the pain from the tequila last night?" he asked.
"A little."
He looked down at me, gaze softening. "Lydia--"
"There you are!" Nell rushed over, red hair strictly tied back, wearing a professional-looking black apron.
Vaughan frowned and checked his watch. "I'm right on time."
A brow went up. "Did I say you weren't?"
"Nice place." I interrupted the potential argument before the two siblings gained momentum. "All of the dark wood with the raw brickwork and the giant windows. It's got such a great atmosphere." It truly did. Brutal might be the best word to describe the style of the place. Though there were traces of luxury and nods to the buildings 1920s origins too. A section of wall covered in ancient band posters had been preserved. A fancy black wrought-iron circle staircase sat in the corner, leading up to the closed-off second level. The wooden-topped metal-legged table-and-chair sets had an edgy industrial feel. But there were also booths with luxurious shiny black leather. It shouldn't have worked yet it did. The temptation to settle in and order a drink, a plate of something to eat, was huge.
"It's awesome, Nell."
The wrinkle lines around Nell's nose disappeared and her lips spread wide in obvious pleasure. "You like it?"
"I love it." Chris would have sneered at the place for not being fancy enough, but screw him anyway. The bar felt comfortable, relaxing, despite all of the people turning our way, whispering. No. Okay. That was a lie. I wasn't okay with this. Never had there been such a crappy idea. I should have stayed hidden away at the house.