Surviving Love (9 page)

She gives me a weak smile and stands up from the couch. I stand as well, towering over her tiny frame, and then she wraps her arms around my waist. I hug her back gently as she whispers, “You’re an amazing young man. You know that?” I nod, not in agreement, but to acknowledge her statement. “Drake,” she moves her hand up to my cheek, eyes filled with water, making my insides ache with hurt, “you are such a wonderful person. No one can go through what you’ve gone through in life and still be walking on their own two feet. I know you’re mad at everything and everyone, but you have so much life left to live. This is your chance, live it.” Mrs. Fields breaks our connection and bends down, kissing Mia on her cheek.
 

“Bye, Nanny!” Mia shouts and runs to the door.
 

I pick her up in my arms and look back to Mrs. Fields, burning her face into my memory. She gives me the slightest smile then waves us off.
 

When we exit the apartment, I get the sickening feeling in my gut that’s telling me my time with Mrs. Fields will be cut short. Like so many people I’ve connected with, my time is always cut short.
 

Chapter 9
 

Zoe
 

Today is my second night at
The Slab
. I started last night, and it went pretty well, however Darcie has informed me the crowd is always a little bigger and rowdier on Saturdays. This will be my final test, I guess. It was definitely busy last night and I was seriously excited about making two hundred bucks in tips alone. I may not need a second job if this keeps up.
 

My audition went pretty well. Two hours into it, it was clear to me why Darcie said they’d be the hardest customers to wait on. Every single one of them were obnoxious, even Reggie. Jake was hitting on me right and left, making the need to take a cold shower more and more immediate. Delilah, who started out happy and giddy when she started drinking, became a lunatic, and the next thing I know, she’s snapping at me and shooting death glares in my direction. I finally discovered Jake and Delilah are a couple as they started screaming at one another again then, in a flash, were both kissing savagely, reciting their love for one another. Darcie just rolled her eyes and said they are always like that. I suppressed a laugh.
 

Earlier today, Reggie called, telling me I need to be at work around five and to be prepared for a large crowd. Apparently, there is some big race, and lately, the crowd has been coming to the bar once it’s over. All I see are dollar signs as I think of the massive amount of money I will make in tips if it’s going to be busier than last night.
 

I discovered Darcie is a lot like me, meaning she doesn’t bullshit and calls it like she sees it. The three of us divided the bar into three different stations. Gavin handled the right side, I was in the middle, and Darcie was on the left. We didn’t step on each other’s toes and all seemed to work well together. I actually really enjoyed working last night, which is another disturbing first for me.
 

***
 

Five hours into my shift, the bar is jam packed with customers. I’m moving quickly, making drinks, filling mugs of beer, and handling demanding customers. They seem to have taken a liking to me—the guys especially—but the tips are pouring in, so I keep up the charming act just to put more money in the tip jar. One man in particular looks a little familiar, then again, he doesn’t. There’s nothing recognizable about him that makes him stand out; he’s just an average, everyday guy, however that doesn’t prevent me from thinking he’s someone of interest.
 

“What can I get ya?” I ask the man as I wipe down the bar top.
 

“What do you suggest?” He licks his lips and I’m instantly disgusted. Now I know this guy because I’ve run across him at every single bar I’ve ever worked at. He’s the quintessential bar tool, a douche bag. Jackasses like him think their shit doesn’t stink and that they’re God’s gift to women, yet in all actuality, they’re disgusting and probably horrible in bed. I’ve never been desperate enough to sleep with one, though, I’ve just come to that conclusion.
 

“Gin and tonic. They’re my favorite.” It’s a lie. I hate gin, but it’s my go-to suggestion to anyone with a major creep factor.
 

“Sounds good.” He moves to touch my hand that’s resting on the bar top, but I quickly move
into action making his drink. I pour in the gin and tonic water and then top it off with a slice of lime. I toss the straw in the glass and slide it across the bar.
 

Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”
 

He hands me a five dollar bill and tells me to keep the change. Cheep fucking bastard, only tipping me a quarter. I let it slide. He’s a weird freaking dude and I don’t want him coming around again.
 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the mysterious man sitting at the edge of the bar. Darcie fills a mug of Guinness and passes it to him then she fills a shot glass with Jack Daniels and sits it next to the beer. He has yet to look up from the bar top, and I can’t help but wonder what his story is. His body is very ridged and tense. Every once in a while he will clench his fists hard then relax. My curiosity is peaking as I watch him for several seconds, ignoring my customers. I’m completely captivated.
 

Drake
 

Delilah was dying to have some Mia time tonight and offered to watch her overnight at their place. I was happy to oblige, knowing I needed to get drunk. The girl from the bar was still invading my thoughts after causing me to stress out all week. I need to let off some steam that beating the shit out of a punching bag hasn’t been curing.
 

Delilah and Jake have made their own home above a garage they purchased six months ago. Turns out, Delilah’s father has a passion for muscle cars, and soon after she moved to Sulfur Heights, Mr. St. James and Jake hit it off by talking about their love of cars. He’s made a few trips here without his wife, of course, and six months ago, he helped Jake purchase the shop he now owns and runs.
 

They converted the second floor of the building to an apartment and have been living there for the last couple of months. Delilah does have a way of warming up a room when she’s around, and in no time, the apartment was transformed into a pretty nice place to live.
 

She helps Jake with the financials for running the business, similar to how Darcie and Reggie work, and she also volunteers down at the children’s shelter. However, unlike Darcie—who will help down at the bar—Delilah refuses to get dirt under her nails and will never go into the shop. It’s funny how completely different Jake and Delilah are, yet they are perfect for one another.
 

Who would have known that Jake could possess the skills all along to fix up cars? I was a little shocked when he said he was going to buy a shop and had little faith in my brother’s new adventure. Back in the day, he just refused to do any of the dirty work, knowing Jeremy was there to handle it. But to my surprise, Jake is doing quite well running his garage. He actually does the work, and between him and the other mechanic, they get a lot done. Jake talks about the shop all the time and I can see the pride on his face.
 

Mrs. Fields was pretty sick most of the week, so I took a few days off to be with Mia. She was feeling much better by Thursday to watch her, but was so worn out by Saturday night that she didn’t offer to watch Mia.
 

I never have to ask Mrs. Fields if Mia can stay with her on Saturdays; she’s always
volunteered to take her. So when Delilah wanted to watch Mia, I jumped on it immediately.
 

Around nine o’clock I walk into the back of the bar and step into Reggie’s office. Empty. Damn, it’s probably busy as hell again. I make my way into the bar to find the noise is deafening. When it’s really busy, Reggie will work crowd control alongside Mike.
 

Before I begin to wonder who’s helping behind the bar, I turn to see the girl who’s been the cause of monopolizing all my thoughts, and she’s mixing drinks! Fuck! I don’t need this right now.
 

Darcie sees me immediately and sets a shot and beer down in front of the end stool where I normally sit. I flop down and choke the poison down instantly.
 

I can’t believe she’s working here and I didn’t even see it coming. This is a prime example of life fucking with me. She’s all I could think about for the past week, and now, there she is, standing before me.
 

I take a brief second to look at her. Her brown hair is twisted up and piled on top of her head. That’s when I notice how long and delicate her neck is. I scan my eyes down the length of her entire body, noticing how lean and tight she is. She’s very sexy and my dick reacts at the mere sight of her.
 

I fix my gaze on Darcie to get another shot when she returns my stare, obviously noticing me looking at her new bartender. My face heats with irritation when Darcie just smiles and passes me my drink. I roll my eyes, more at myself than to her, then chug down the booze. Another glass is set down in front of me and then another. Before I know it, I’m wasted and feeling numb. However, the relief that typically follows my inebriated state never settles over me, only unwanted feelings for a girl who could never be mine along with the guilt over a woman I can never have again.
 

***
 

The bar is even more packed as the time hits midnight. I can safely say I’m very drunk but still functional, which is exactly how I need to be. As I’m getting ready to leave, some douche bag strolls up beside me, trying to get Darcie’s attention.
 

“Hey! Bartender!” the man shouts over the noise of the crowd. “Can I get a fucking drink?” He loudly taps his hand on the bar, getting Darcie’s attention. I can’t help but feel amused knowing Darcie doesn’t take to bossy customers very well.
 

Darcie walks over to him with a shit eating grin spread across her face. “Hey, fuckstick, I’d be glad to make you a drink just as soon as you get in the line like everyone else.” She moves back to the other customers, quickly filling their drink orders.
 

“Fucking bitch,” the man mumbles under his breath.
 

All the anger boiling just under the surface of my skin erupts from inside of me, and I lose it. I snap my murderous glare to the douche bag. “What did you just say?”
 

He turns his body toward me, looking me straight in the eye. The very sight of his face pisses me off. He’s a young prick with no respect or remorse for insulting my sister when he replies to my question. “I called her a fucking bitch, asshole. What are you going to do about it?”
 

Before I can stop myself, I’m already on my feet, towering over the guy, who I’m certain, hasn’t been expecting me to be so tall. I wrap my hands around his neck then suddenly my mind
flashes back to what I was feeling that night. That very night I wanted to put my hands on my brother. The night Jeremy confessed to being a drug dealer, making the hate I never fathomed surface and become a permanent part of my soul. I picture the satisfaction of killing my brother and this sends me into a blind fury. This man is
now
Jeremy and I want to choke him.
 

I pick him up by his neck and swing him back, slamming his body into the wall, then press my body against his. He’s scared and I know he won’t fight back, but all I see is Jeremy in his eyes and I want to kill him. My heart is beating wildly in my ears, drowning out any other noise in the bar. The muscles in my forearm bulge as I squeeze. With just a little more pressure, he’ll be dead. The rage is too much for me to stop and it feels good to take it out on an actual person and not a punching bag.
 

I draw my fist back, readying myself to crush it into his jaw when Reggie comes to my side, heaving me off the man. I let go of his neck and he falls to the floor, coughing and gagging, crumpling at my feet. The air in my lungs is rapidly filtering through my body when I take deep adrenaline-filled breaths. Reggie grabs a hold of my arm, pushing me toward the back then into the back room.
 

“Goddammit, Drake, what the hell was that for?” His glare is intense as he stares me down.
 

It takes me a second to answer his question. The rage is suffocating my throat, preventing me from speaking. “He called Darcie a bitch when she refused to serve him,” I say, thinking this will completely satisfy Reggie, but it does the opposite.
 

He begins to pace the room, runs his hands over his head, then moves back to stand in front of me—on the verge of exploding. “Did you see that guy’s face? You almost killed him, Drake!” Reggie lets out a deep breath to prepare to lecture me again. “That was no excuse to choke a man out. You really need to get a hold of your rage before you really hurt someone.”
 

I stand there, anger boiling once again. This is Reggie’s way of telling me to get over the past and move on. His way of saying it’s been a damn year and he’s ready for me to get over it. The very thought enrages me further. He has no idea what I’ve been through since Presley died and I found out my brother betrayed me. I can’t stand his condescending tone and I’m ready to kill him now!
 

“Fuck you!” I shout. I belly up to him, looking to finish what I started with that man.
 

“I know that look, Drake. Don’t even think about it,” Reggie threatens as he steps in front of me, meeting me eye-to-eye. Granted, he’s a great fighter, but I’ve got betrayal and loss on my side—fueling my fist to hit harder. “Get a handle on yourself, or I won’t allow you to drink down here anymore. Got it?”
 

Before I can take him down, Reggie leaves the back room. I begin to obliterate the wall, tearing up my hand and my sanity with every punch I give—trying to win the war against my blinding rage and broken heart.