Birthday Girl

I knew he would challenge me. Nothing gets by him.

An eerie calmness laces his voice, but I know it’s only skin deep. “Come on, I’m already here,” he presses. “You don’t want me to have to have come out here for nothing, do you?”

I lean down, glaring into his dark brown eyes as I simultaneously fish the bar keys back out of my back pocket. “I didn’t ask you to come. And like I said, I have another ride.”

Turning around, I hurry for Grounders’ entrance and quickly unlock the door.

“Jordan!” I hear him bark.

I yank the door open and step inside, casting a stern look back at him as he still sits planted in the car. “Go home.”

And I pull the door closed again, twisting the lock and backing away like he’s going to try to bust it down. I stay there, breathing hard and shaking.

He won’t let that slide. He won’t do anything tonight, because he would’ve been out of the car faster than I could make it to the bar door if he was going to try, but he’ll be pissed enough to not forget.

He was a six-month-long mistake I made in high school, but I won’t be that stupid again. My guard is up now.

And he didn’t come to give me a ride home tonight. Not directly, anyway. Maybe after he was done with me.

I close my eyes, trying to drown out the memory of him pounding on my car window one night as I frantically tried to get my key in the ignition. I can still feel the fire on my scalp from where he yanked my hair.

I turn away and open my eyes, pushing away the thoughts. After a moment, I hear the engine roar past the bar and the tires screech down the street.

He’s gone.

I set my bag down on the bar and run down the hallway, past the bathrooms, and check the locks on the back door, untwisting and re-twisting, yanking the handle to make sure it doesn’t give, and then I jog back up front and check the front door again and the windows.

Taking my phone from my bag, I sit on a bar stool, clutching it in my fist. Who do I call?

Jay’s probably telling the truth. Cole is drunk again. Why would he do this? He knew I was counting on him to be here. I’m positive he doesn’t know Jay was the one who came instead, but still… I could fucking kill him.

I swallow down the sickness rising up my throat.

I call my sister, but as suspected, it goes to voicemail. She’s probably just getting out of work or home asleep already.

My dad? Stepmom?

They haven’t even called since I called them a week ago. They can’t do anything without acting like it’s a huge imposition. Asking them for anything is owing them. It’s a burden.

I’m a burden.

Pike crosses my mind. I have no doubt he’d come.

But it would just piss Cole off if his father found out he dropped the ball tonight, and I don’t want Pike to know, either. It’s embarrassing. We’re adults, and we’ve made our beds. He’s taking care of me enough, and I’m not waking him up when he has work in the morning. It makes me a burden.

The only other person I could call is Shel, and her home is on the other side of town.

I don’t want to call Cole, because, of course, he can’t drive, but maybe he could send another friend.

But no. I’m not calling him. I’m too pissed right now.

And this town doesn’t have cabs, either.

I eye the pool table, the overflowing ash trays sitting on the edges, and the scratch marks all over the filthy felt.

Well, fuck. It’ll be light out in a few hours. I can walk home then. Time to suck it up. I’m not asking anyone for shit.

Hopping off the stool, I make my way behind the bar again and dig out two stacks of clean white bar towels and carry them to the pool table, one by one fanning them out and covering the dirty surface.