Anton (Chicago Blaze 1)

A man I’ve already served eight beers to pushes his way up to the front of the bar.

“Another one, sweetie, and I’ll give you an extra tip if you shake ‘em.” He cackles and reaches for his wallet.

Anton bristles and turns toward him, about to say something when I beat him to it.

“I’ve got a tip for you,” I say. “Quit being an asshole.”

He laughs again. “Feisty, I like it.”

“Go sleep it off, dickhead,” Anton tells him with a glare.

He raises his hands innocently, takes his bottle of beer and lays a bill on the counter.

“Do you get that shit all the time?” Anton asks me.

“All the time. Goes with the job.”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be leaving here alone when you’re off.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“If a bunch of guys jump you in a dark alley, it could turn bad, Mia.”

I can’t help smiling at his concern. “I stay away from dark alleys. Don’t worry about me.”

“Can I give you a ride home later?”

A customer gestures to me and I hold up my finger, telling him to wait one second.

“I’m not off ‘til two again,” I tell Anton, looking over at the clock that reads 9:45 p.m.

“No problem. I’ll be waiting.”

I notice him get up and leave after he finishes his water, setting a twenty on the bar. I think about him as I eat my peanut butter sandwich on my break, though I’m supposed to be studying.

Why is he being so nice to me? Does he want something more than this?

I can’t give him more. Even though Adam and I will never live together or be a regular couple again, technically, we’re still married. I’m not a cheater. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be stuck in this limbo forever—married, desperate to escape, but unable to.

I’m not the Mia my grandparents raised anymore. She was fierce. Strong. She once saw a boy being bullied because he was gay and took on both boys who were beating him up, coming home with two black eyes, a fat lip and a huge smile.

Now I’m pretty much alone and barely getting by. I’m chronically exhausted and afraid that Adam will track me down at Anita’s and get me kicked out. Then where would I go?

I can almost hear my grandma saying, “But what do you have, Mia?” She’d always ask me that when I was complaining about not having a date to a dance or not making a sports team.

I have food and a roof over my head, and I have school, which gives me hope of making a better life for myself someday. I have peace, now that I’m not being called a worthless whore by the one person who was supposed to love me most.

Work is steady after my break, and I end the night with enough cash to buy my grandpa something for Christmas and get the new shoes I desperately need for walking to work. When I lock the doors after the last customer leaves, I don’t see Anton standing outside.

Maybe he’s not coming. I think about it as I wipe down the dark wood bar and wash up the last glasses of the night. That would be for the best. While my new, almost people-free, life is lonely at times, it’s also simple. Predictable. Stable.

The key to un-fucking your life—get rid of the people. I smile about that as I leave Lucky Seven, locking the door behind me. Janice is still inside closing down the business end, but I learned the hard way that if I say goodnight to her, she just glares at me like I made her lose count of the cash she’s tallying, and then dramatically starts over.

A dark Range Rover pulls up to the curb, and I instinctively take a few steps away.

“Hey, it’s me,” Anton says. “Got your seat warmed up and waiting.”

I smile in spite of myself. People may be complicated, but heated leather seats in downtown Chicago during late November are not. And it’s kind of nice to have an attractive man offer me a ride while knowing he’s not expecting sex.

Anton does know that, right?

“You look deep in thought,” he says as I fasten my seat belt.

“Oh…it’s nothing.” I clear my throat. “I mean, I was just thinking it’s nice of you to do this when you aren’t getting anything in return.”

He laughs, and it’s a deep, sexy sound. There are lines at the corners of his eyes when he turns to glance at me.

“That’s your nice of way of telling me you’re not fucking me?”

I nod and grin sheepishly.

“I don’t expect anything in return for doing something for a friend,” he says.

“Are we friends, then?”

“I hope so.”

I swallow hard, working up the courage to ask him something that’s been on my mind.

“Look, I know this may sound crazy, but I need to put it out there. Did Adam put you up to any of this?”