Feeling This (3 page)

“Bye Momma, I love you. Don’t forget Mrs. Bruin made you dinner, it’s in the fridge.” I turn to make my way out the door. She doesn’t respond, she never does, why do I even bother?

I make my way to the small, white Jetta sitting in the drive way. It needs so much work not to mention four new tires, maybe some time when there aren’t a million other things to pay for. I climb in and caress the dashboard, silently praying that it gets me to and from work tonight without any problems.

That wasn’t the case last Saturday night. I had to hitch a ride with Derek, another bartender that I closed the bar with. It wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that he has been trying to get into my pants for the past year. He can’t take a hint which is completely annoying. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not half bad, with shoulder length blonde hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. He is rather tall and lanky, more on the skinny side, not really my type. All that aside, I am just not attracted to the guy. He thinks if he keeps at it, I’ll give in or something.

A red light forces me to stop and the engine starts sputtering.
Oh no, please no
, I need to work tonight. We need the money. The light changes and my foot quickly finds the gas. The car lurches forward almost seeming to consider whether it wants to go or not but it hangs in there. Finally, I swing into the half-full parking lot. In an hour or two it will be totally packed, this is the big hot spot on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. Tonight being Sunday, it will still be packed. Nobody in this godforsaken town has anything else to do.

The double, wooden doors greet me in the routine I repeat over and over six nights a week. Someday, I’ll have a degree and be able to do something else. But until then this is my home away from home.

My tired hands push the door inward and my eyes adjust instantly to the dull lighting typical of any bar. My theory, the ugly theory, if the lighting is low and the beer is flowing, they really don’t see who they are going home with. If the lights were up to full brightness, they would realize how ugly everything really gets as they drink more. Yes, I must persist in making up stupid theories to keep myself going.

Becca runs up to me as soon as I settle behind the bar, “Kimber, hey girl, guess what happened last night?”

Oh boy, I can only imagine, more like
who
happened last night. My ugly theory rings most true with Becca, I’ve seen it in action. She is absolutely adorable with her five foot frame of about one hundred pounds, small green eyes and long brown hair. But that’s the problem, she sleeps with anyone that pays her a compliment.

“No Becca, no guessing, how about you just tell.”

She laughs and comments snidely, “Guess you didn’t sleep that well last night. Well I did, and not by myself.” See, I called it, never by herself. I try to be the supportive friend and intervene in her trysts but she doesn’t listen. I’m not sure I would listen to me either.

She stands there waiting for me to ask. I sigh, “Okay, Becca, who is the lucky guy?”

She gushes, “It was Tyler and I think I’m in love.”

I frown at her and look intently, “Really because that’s what you said last week about, oh what was his name, oh yeah I don’t remember because you say that every week, Becca, really?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t care what you say Kimber, this is the one. Maybe you just need to get laid and your panties wouldn’t be in such a tight wad.”

Okay so I give up, Project Becca Intervention, total failure. I can’t get
my
life together, why in the world should I try to help her?

“Sorry Becca, really I do hope this is the one. But I’ll say what I say every time, be careful girl. There are some creeps out there and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She smiles, suddenly back to her cheerful self, “Do you want to hear about him?”

This is what is so funny about this girl. I always warn her about being cautious, but she never seems to get hurt. I wonder how she does it. If I knew the secret I wouldn’t still be reeling over the one that got away as I like to genuinely call him.

“Spill it girl.” I check my watch and add, “Make it fast, I have to get ready for the rush in an hour.”

***

An hour later just as I called it, we are slammed. I can’t even focus on the mess that is my life for the sheer fact that I am so busy. Unfortunately, I am stuck closing with Derek once again and every time we pass each other behind the bar, he grabs my ass or whispers something inappropriate in my ear. Isn’t that workplace sexual harassment or something? I just ignore him. Past experience with him proves that the more attention I give to my annoyance at him, the more encouraged he seems to get.
Idiot.

A band sets up on the makeshift stage and begins playing. I can’t keep track of which band is which anymore. We seem to have a different one each weekend, garage bands at their finest. Becca strolls up and squeals to me as I make her drinks at the service bar, “Do you see him? See the drummer, that’s Tyler.”

I ignore her, pretending like I didn’t hear her but she persists,”Kimber, did you hear me, Tyler is up on stage, check him out. He’s so sexy.”

Yeah okay, that is her dumb response about every guy that passes through this place. I glance up to appease her and spot the drummer. Typical, long haired, big and bulky, no shirt, ripped jeans, probably in his late twenties with nowhere to go in life but here.
Oh boy, who pissed in my drink tonight
? I put on my best smile and tell her, “Oh Becca, nice.”

She nods and grabs her drinks but before she turns, she quirks, “Hey, maybe I can set you up with one of the others. The singer seems pretty cute.”

Oh God, really!
I glance over just so she’ll leave. The singer actually isn’t quite bad. He scans the audience as he sings some catchy upbeat song I’ve never heard. His gaze lands on mine and he winks. I quickly look away and catch Becca staring at me, smiling.

“Shit Becca, you already said something to him, didn’t you?

She giggles, “Guilty.” I roll my eyes and turn away because if I don’t I’m liable to say something and hurt her feelings.

A high pitched whistle rings from the other end of the bar distracting me from Becca. I turn ready to let someone have it. I am not a dog at anyone’s beck and call. But I spot the culprit down at the corner where the L turns to meet the wall closing the bar off from patrons. A wide smile spreads over my lips at the sight. I nod at her finishing the drinks I’m making for the customers in front of me. A few minutes later I’m hugging my big sister, Jenna, over the bar. She is true to form, short black bob, nose pierced and tattoos sporadically placed on her arms and shoulders. Her sheer pink tank showcases a black bra underneath and a regular customer next to her is looking up at her shirt with googly eyes.

“Hey girl, where have you been?” I already know the answer to this. She can’t stand to stay in one place. She reminds me every time she comes to visit that I would do the same if I were smart.

She smirks, “Can’t a girl get a beer around here?”

I trek back down to the tap and pour a mug. Derek leans in, too close for my comfort, I can smell cigarettes on his breath. “Hey, is that your sister? Can you hook a brother up?”

I back up and laugh it off, “Uh, no! And when did you become a brother?”

I turn on my heel having no patience for him tonight. My sister is concentrating on her phone, as I place her mug down in front of her.

“Hey, my car’s not doing too hot, I might need to catch a ride home,” I confide.

She looks up from her phone suddenly interested in what I’ve said, “No, Kimber, you know I can’t go there.” Her face first registers fear, then sorrow. I knew she wouldn’t want to help but my other choice is Derek, definitely not, or Becca, yeah, no again.

“Okay sis, just stick around, please, just in case my car doesn’t start.” She ignores me, her attention diverted to the phone again. I’m not even going to ask why she’s home. She strolls back through town sometimes. I like to think it’s to check up on me and make sure I’m surviving but I’m not completely convinced.

I make my way down the bar to help Derek out and I notice he is staring at Jenna. He seems enamored with her. His attention is diverted from me for once.
Great
, let my sister be the focus for once with this guy.

The night speeds by which makes it that much sooner I will be able to collapse into my bed. Around midnight, the owner of this fine establishment, Jared Duck, yes his last name is actually Duck, makes his nightly appearance. He is short and round with a red and grey goatee. Tonight he’s in typical form with a black cowboy hat and a chambray button down stretched so tight that the buttons are straining against the material. He usually stays holed up in his back office until the crowd thins out. Twelve is a little early for him. He strolls down the outside of the bar and through the tables greeting regulars and schmoozing new customers. Once he makes it to the end where my sister is deep in conversation with the dude who was thinking about trying to cop a feel earlier, I hear her call out to him, “Jared, how about letting Kimber sing tonight.”

He turns and a creepy smile, usually reserved for the ladies, crosses his face. I silently curse her. This is my rent and food ticket and eventually my way out of here. If she jeopardizes my job, I’ll kill her. Jared strolls over casually and places his arm around the bar stool she’s sitting in.

“And why should I do that.” His voice is definitely the one he reserves for the ladies. I am not going to stand by and let this old goat hit on Jenna. But before I can make it down there, Derek places his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

I hiss at him, “Derek, come on, I’m not in the mood.”

He lowers his face closer to mine and softly tells me, “Just let her talk to him. Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to your sister.” Something about his tone strikes me as odd. This is not the usual playful and carefree Derek. I turn and watch as my sister flirts away laughing with Jared as if they just shared a joke.

After about ten minutes of stewing while serving customers, I look up and watch as Jenna and Derek exchange a look and a nod. What? When did this happen. Just an hour ago he was asking me to hook him up and now there’s an inside joke I’m not a part of, I’m stewing even more.

Around one o’clock with only an hour left, the band is breaking and Jared makes his way up to the stage. I’m still pissed that my sister would flirt with my creepy boss. He’s like fifteen years older than her, at least. I’m rinsing mugs out and placing them in the tray to be washed when I hear his deep voice call me up to the stage. My hands fumble, causing a mug to slip. It shatters into the sink.
Shit!
Derek comes up beside me and tells me, “Don’t worry about it, go on.”

I look up at the stage frowning but my face quickly changes when I see my sister sitting up on a stool center stage with my guitar. How’d she get that? As if reading my mind she holds up my keys and nods behind me. I turn and Derek is grinning ear to ear.

Glaring at Derek I mutter, “Traitor,” and make my way up to the stage.

Jenna hands me the guitar and whispers, “Knock ‘em dead,” before stepping down.

I scan the crowd and push my nerves away. This is my element, music, everything I do has an anthem attached in my mind. The performing in front of a crowd, well not that. That part is totally out of my comfort zone. I feel my stomach turn over at that prospect so I close my eyes and focus on strumming the chords as beautiful music fills the room. I open my eyes for a minute to find the microphone and quickly close them as my nerves rise again. My voice doesn’t betray me though. I choose a tune I wrote called,
Making Me Love You.

“Daylight and my mind wanders, always, wanders.

Nighttime and it still roams, always, roams.

You, you’re making me love you, making me love you, making me love you.

What can I do when it’s you? All day and night, you.

I don’t want it but it’s you making me love you.

You, you’re making me love you, making me love you, making me love you.

No matter the time always loving you, always loving you.”

As I play the last note and sing the last verse, I open my eyes and the audience still occupying the chairs and barstools are clapping and whistling. I smile savoring the moment. Jared steps up to the stage and takes the mic as I step away.

“Let’s give our very own, Kimber Maguire, a round of applause.”

Everyone claps again. It warms my heart that my sister did this for me. The little things mean the most.

Jenna meets up with me as I place my guitar behind the bar and start to serve more customers.

“Hey Kimber, was that good or what? You are such a natural.” I smile suddenly at a loss for words. This never happens to me.

A smooth voice comes up behind her and agrees, “I was definitely taken by surprise. You’re really talented.” And my mood is suddenly killed.
Ugh
, Becca, I’m gonna wring your neck. The singer from the garage band I don’t even know the name of, is flirting with me.

I ignore him and turn to Jenna, “Are you going to hang out or what?”

“I’ll hang out. That’s kind of why I am here.” As she finishes a hand comes up and rests on my shoulder. I glance over and see the smirk on Derek’s face, not directed at me, but my sister. What the hell is this?

Before I can freak out she explains, “Kimber, a month ago I was at a party over in Gatlin. I saw Derek there and we just hit it off. We’ve been talking since then. This is the first weekend I could get away to come and visit.” I’m flabbergasted. I think my mouth is hanging open.

They both laugh at my reaction. Shit, I’m never going to get rid of this dude if my sister is dating him.

I look over at Derek and protest, “But you were just asking me to hook you up like you didn’t know Jenna.”