| |
WHEN I GOT BACK TO the club he was still there. Not alone either but with a whole crowd gathered around. Mark had settled himself on the barstool next to Holden and chattered away like they were best buddies.
Razer and Violet had come back and joined in the fun. Even Jackson, still sitting on his usual barstool, had turned to face Holden.
A sigh wrenched through my body. They'd all taken sides against me. In my absence, they'd started an "I love Holden" club and that club, by default, would become an "I hate Carlie" club too.
I knew that wasn't the case. It was just my paranoia talking.
He was definitely a charming man, especially with people he'd just met. In fact, that was where he shone, with random people who only knew the surface. When they didn't get close enough to see the dark swamp of crap that hovered just below. That's what made him a star, that instant connection to people. Well, that and the music. But it made him a shit person in the longer term.
Maybe I was being unfair. He wasn’t a bad person to other people.
Violet saw me enter and came over, the questions burning on her face. Of course, she had questions. After what had happened earlier, the questions had to be scorching. I'd sure as hell have questions for anyone else if they’d done something like I’d done.
Her eyes shone bright and I was thankful that the love spark in her made her less likely to pry too much into my business. We were friends but even then, I didn't want her delving too deeply into aspects of my life. I didn't like to parade my pain in public. I was much better at giving advice than taking it.
"I used to go out with him, we can leave it at that." I didn't want to get into a discussion about it.
I looked her in the eye as I said it, trying to convey that it was nothing, he meant nothing but, after my outburst, I couldn't brush off my feelings that easily. Punching someone in the face makes it difficult to pretend you don't care.
"Sorry, Carls. If it makes you uncomfortable, we won't talk to him. I'll tell Razer to get away."
I shook my head. I couldn't make someone not talk to him. A famous rock star comes into a rock bar and people want to talk to him. He'd have a hundred stories, all spun out for maximum amusement and polished to a shine for an occasion just like this. The air of success hung around him like a shining light. People would always want a piece of that.
"It's fine. I just wish he'd left earlier. I was hoping he'd be gone before I got back. I need to get my head together."
Violet laughed. "You know why he's here."
If she thought he was here to see me, she was sorely mistaken. To torture me, maybe. To show me what a huge success he'd become and rub that in my face, maybe. But anything else was just her love-addled brain seeing illusions.
“I’m just going to ignore him,” I said.
But that was easier said than done when the whole bar buzzed around him like he was the sun at the center of the solar system.
“You’ll have to serve him when you start your shift,” she said.
That was the problem. He'd order a drink and I'd have to look at him. He'd pass me his money, making sure our hands touched, just lightly. That was the way he played it. It'd be an hour until the other staff started work so it was just me behind the bar with no way out of this.
“I could get Mark to take over my shift.”
Violet nodded at Mark. “He’s not leaving his new buddy. He thinks Holden’s his best friend now but I’m not sure Holden is as keen.”
Just the way his name came out so easily in her conversation made me feel a twinge. But there was no way out of this. He’d wedged his way into my life in just a few short hours. I needed to unwedge him somehow.
I put my apron back on.
"I did set up since I wasn't sure if you'd be back," Mark called to me. "And I cleaned up your mess."
“Big fucking whoop. I do set up every single night while you just breeze in and start your shift.”
He owed me some major set up debt but I never belly-ached about it. He was just big-noting himself, like he actually cared about how things ran around here. Mark could die. He could fall down dead off his bar stool. If he hadn’t encouraged Holden, Holden probably would've left by now and I'd not have this sick, wrenching feeling in my gut.
“Well, some of us have other things to do besides hang out here and play Galaga.”
“Carlie goes to the gym,” said Violet.
I wasn’t sure if that was some attempt to make me seem more interesting but I had no shame about it. I wasn’t interesting. I wasn’t fun. But I was surviving until now.
“She sure does,” Holden replied. And, even though I didn’t look, I knew he was rubbing his jaw again.
The music on the stereo buzzed too loud and the lights made my head ache. Maybe I should just chuck a sickie and go home. These weren't conditions I could work in. I could curl up in bed, well away from the bar, and forget that Holden King ever existed. Because that had worked so well for me in the past.
I grabbed a drink and checked that Mark had set everything up properly. He always moved things around when we had a system. If the lemon slices were in the wrong place, I had to waste time searching for them. And he always put the tongs in weird places.
I wouldn't go home. I wouldn't let Holden see how much he rattled me. I could act like this was just any old night for me.
Which it was.
"Are you even working tonight?" I asked Mark. I hadn’t seen his name on the roster.
"No, I'm heading upstairs soon."
I picked up a glass and polished it. Glass polishing wasn't usually a thing. Our customers cared more about the booze in the glass than if it gleamed but it kept my hands busy and gave me an excuse to stand at the opposite end of the bar. I don't think any glass in the entire bar had ever been polished like that glass was polished.
A couple of customers came in and I had to move out of my comfortable corner to serve them.
“A couple of beers, thanks.”
I grabbed the glasses and tried to keep my hands steady. They might've been the worst beers I ever poured but the customers didn't care.
They laughed. All of them. Even Jackson. I couldn't hear what Holden said and I didn't want to. I turned the music up, even though the noise bugged me. If I had it loud enough, maybe he'd go somewhere quieter so he could hear his own voice.
I couldn't even get him kicked out since he wasn't technically doing anything wrong. If he was a random guy who'd come in off the street or some unknown, I wouldn't need a reason but even if I got one of the bouncers involved, they'd probably end up fan-boying over him like everyone else.
I picked up another glass then realized someone was at the bar. One of the regulars. Damn customers, interrupting my angsting. They ordered a rum and Coke but kept glancing over at Holden like they wanted to be part of his fun gang.
Shitheads should have to get "shithead" tattooed on their foreheads so people knew. Holden wasn't fun.
Then my gaze hit him. I didn't mean to look and I turned away as soon as my eyes connected but I had definitely looked at him. And he'd seen me.
I wouldn’t do it again, though. He could sit there all night and he’d be blocked from my sight.
He watched me. I knew it. His gaze burnt into me and made me overly conscious of my every movement. Even the back of my neck flushed and my body prickled. The effort not to turn towards him wore on me.
Why had I worn such an ugly dress to work? It never fit me properly and I had to constantly pull it down and adjust it. All my cute dresses had been in the wash and I figured this one would do. I preferred to wear dresses behind the bar because I got too hot in jeans and, okay, because I had sensational legs. They were my best feature. At least this dress was short enough to show them off.
I pulled up the neck, covering my collarbones. Even though he’d still know it was there, I didn’t want him seeing that stupid tattoo.
I hadn’t even washed my hair for days and it hung flat and boring. I kept my hair short so it was easier to dry after gym but I’d been in a rush and it was getting a bit greasy.
Plus, I'd only put on the minimum makeup, not even my usual red lipstick. The token makeup I'd put on would've sweated off when I ran anyway. I probably had a red, blotchy face.
But I couldn't do anything about it now. It'd seem like I was fancying myself up because he was there when it had nothing to do with him. I just wanted to make myself look more presentable for working with the public, that was all.
Someone moved and I swung around to see if they wanted a drink, purposely moving my gaze over his head so it didn’t hit him. I steeled myself for it. I could serve him and keep it calm like I did it every day. I'd get his drink then walk away. He could have it on the house. Then we would have no flesh contact between us. That would be the best thing.
But he didn't want a drink. He'd stood up. They all stood. Violet shot me a half-smile as though to say sorry but the others didn't even look at me. I'd become invisible Carlie again.
Violet paused.
“I’ve got to go upstairs to work but if you need me, just send me a message. I suggested Holden come up and watch the band so he’s not bugging you.”
I nodded thanks.
They headed upstairs as a group.
That should've made me happy but the feeling that flooded through me wasn't relief. I had some stupid, crazy sense of disappointment and even a touch of emptiness inside me.
I hated Holden King.