“Your birthday is coming up,” I reminded her. Between Liza, my parents, and me, we already had a closet full of wrapped gifts. We’d been badgering her about her big day for weeks, but she’d remained annoyingly noncommittal. “Have you figured out how you want to celebrate?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh my gosh, Aunt Naomi! I told you nine million times I don’t like birthdays. They’re dumb and disappointing and lame.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Not to guilt-trip you, but your grandma will go into hysterics if you don’t at least let her bake you a cake.”
I saw the calculating look on her face. “What kind of cake?”
I booped her nose with a spatula. “That’s the best part about birthdays. You get to pick.”
“Huh. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.”
I had just poured the eggs into the skillet when I felt arms around my waist and a face press into my back.
“I’m sorry Knox was a douchewaffle, Aunt Naomi,” Waylay said, her voice muffled.
My throat tightened as I squeezed her hands with my own. It was such a new, fragile thing, this affection she showed me in moments when I least expected it. I was afraid I’d do or say the wrong thing and scare her off. “I am too. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be better than okay,” I promised.
She released me. “Hey. Those jerks didn’t steal my new jeans with the pink flowers when they broke in, did they?”
* * *
Fi: I don’t know what’s going on between you two. But Knox just offered me $1,000 to put you on the schedule tonight since you called in sick your last two shifts. I can either split it with you or tell him to fuck off. Your call!
Me: Sorry. I can’t. I’m hosting a bonfire tonight and you’re invited.
Fi: Fuck yeah! Can I bring my annoying family?
Me: I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.
THE OLD KNOX
Knox
Iwasn’t going to admit it, but the ice princess routine was killing me. It had been five days since I’d told Naomi the truth. Since I’d ended things to spare her feelings. And I was fucking miserable.
The relief I’d expected from ending things never came. Instead, I felt sick and uneasy. Almost guilty. It felt worse than my first over-thirty hangover.
I wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before Naomi showed up with fucking daisies in her hair. But they couldn’t. Not with her in town avoiding me.
It was no small feat, given that she lived with my grandmother. She’d called off from her shifts at Honky Tonk. I’d expected relief that I didn’t have to face her, but the longer she went without answering my texts or calls, the more uneasy I felt.
She should have gotten over this by now. Hell. I should have gotten over this by now.
“Your five o’clock canceled,” Stasia said when I returned to Whiskey Clipper from my late lunch break spent at Dino’s, getting glares and cold pizza that I didn’t even feel like eating.
She and Jeremiah were cleaning up for closing.
“Seriously?” It was the third client to cancel on me this week. Two of them had rescheduled with Jeremiah and sat in his chair tossing me judgmental looks. None of them had the balls to say anything. But they didn’t need to. I took enough of a beating from the Honky Tonk girls.
“Guess you must have pissed them off somehow,” Stasia mused.
“It’s no one’s goddamn business who I see or don’t see,” I said, dunking the comb back in the alcohol and stowing my scissors.
“That’s the thing about a small town,” Jeremiah said. “Everyone’s business is everyone’s business.”
“Yeah? Well, everyone can kiss my ass.”
“He definitely seems much happier since he got out of that terrible relationship,” Stasia said. She pretended to scratch her nose with her middle finger.
“Who signs your paychecks?” I reminded her.
“Some things are worth more than money.”
I didn’t need this abuse. I had shit to do. A life to live. And these assholes could just get on with forgetting all about me and Naomi.
“I’m goin’ to Honky Tonk,” I said.
“Have a great night,” Jeremiah called after me. I threw a middle finger in his direction.
Instead of the bar, I ducked into my office. It didn’t feel like a sanctuary. It felt like a prison. I’d spent more time locked in here this week than I had the previous month. I’d never been this caught up on paperwork. Or this disconnected from what was going on with my businesses.
“Why the hell does anyone in this town give a damn who I date or don’t date?” I muttered to myself.
I picked up the rent check for one of the apartments upstairs. The tenant had also included a “You fucked up” note scrawled on a sticky note.
I was starting to worry that everyone else was right. That I’d done the wrong thing. And that sat about as well with me as the idea of wearing a suit and tie every day for the rest of my life.
I liked freedom. That’s why I owned my own businesses. That lottery ticket had bought me stability and freedom. Although, I supposed running my own businesses also sometimes felt like a thousand fucking zip ties lashing me to responsibility. But it was a responsibility I chose.
I could run my businesses without worrying about other people… Well, except for the ones I employed. And served.
Fuck.
I needed to get out of my head.
I headed down the hall and let myself into Honky Tonk. It was early still for a Friday, but the music was loud, and I could smell wings cooking in the kitchen. It felt like home. Even though my eyes did a quick scan of the bar, looking for Naomi. She wasn’t there and the disappointment I felt cut like a goddamn knife.
Silver and Max were both behind the bar. Fi was shooting the shit with Wraith. All three of them looked at me.
“Evening,” I said, testing the waters.
“Boo!” they chorused. Silver and Max were giving me the thumbs-down. Fi was giving me one thumbs-down and one middle finger. The other server, Brad, a new hire brought on to even out the estrogen, refused to make eye contact with me.
“Seriously?”
The handful of patrons snickered.
“I could fire every last one of you,” I reminded them.
They crossed their arms in unison. “I’d like to see you try,” Max said.
“Yeah. I’m sure you’d bartend and serve and manage just fine all by yourself on a Saturday night,” Silver said. Her nose ring moved with the flare of her nostrils.
Fuck.
I knew when I wasn’t wanted.
Fine. I could go home and enjoy the peace and quiet of single life. Again. Maybe tonight it wouldn’t feel so fucking empty. I’d get used to it.
“Fine. I’m leaving,” I said.
“Good,” said Max.
“Bye,” said Silver.
“Fuck off,” Fi said. “I’m leaving too.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I’d go home and work out a new schedule where these three never shared the bar again, I decided. Even if it meant hiring five more people. I’d hire guys who didn’t get periods and didn’t give me shit.
I fantasized about that life on the leisurely ride I took on my bike, winding around Knockemout and beyond before finally heading home. After all, I didn’t have someone waiting for me. Someone to answer to. I could do what I wanted. Which was exactly what I wanted out of life.
I was so distracted by reminding myself how great my life was without Naomi that I almost missed the vehicles at Liza’s.
For a second, I panicked, wondering if something had happened. If there’d been another break-in or worse.
Then I heard the music, the laughter.
I drove by slowly, hoping for a glimpse of her. No such luck. I parked my bike in my driveway and was headed for the front door when the tang of bonfire hit my nostrils.
If Liza wanted to have a party and not tell me that was her business I decided, letting myself inside.