3. Katrina

CHAPTER 3

KATRINA

I t all happened so fast. My memory of it was a blur. One second, I was walking past the bar to go check on a couple of patrons at the table by the front window, and the next second, I was covered in cold, sticky beer, and the exposed skin of my feet was pin-pricked with beads of bright red blood. I gasped.

"Oh my god," said the man who had caused the accident. "I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t know you were behind me."

I stared down in shock, not even sure how to react. Al had warned me about walking too fast through the bar when things started to get crowded, noting that while he had a fair number of extra glasses in the back, he didn’t like to have to replace them more than was absolutely necessary. This was precisely what he’d been worried about.

Shit. I’m totally fired.

"Do you have a rag or something?" the man asked Al. "Or a mop? I’m going to clean this up. Again, I am so sorry."

"No, it’s okay," I said, finally snapping back to the moment. Maybe if I took care of the mess myself without any complaint, I could save my job. "You don’t have to do anything. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to clean it up. Just let me run to the supply closet."

For the first time since we collided, I looked at the man’s face, and our eyes met. His were dark blue and contrasted beautifully against his thick, dark brown eyebrows. His hair was shaggy, and he had the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow appearing on his chin and cheeks.

Fuck.

Not only was I covered in beer and seconds away from losing my job, but this was all happening right in front of one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. He was staring back at me, not saying anything, but his expression was hard to read. Did he feel the same instant attraction I did, or was he just waiting for me to jump into action instead of standing around like a fish out of water?

"Be careful," was what I managed to finally say. "The glass really went everywhere. Just stand there, and I’ll go get the broom."

"If you just tell me where the cleaning supplies are," he said. "I would feel a lot better if you at least let me help you."

"No, really, let me do it," I insisted. "It’s my job."

"But I was the one who made the mess."

"It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone behind you like that when you were clearly grabbing drinks at the bar. Seriously, I’m happy to do it." I turned on my heel and hurried away before he could argue any further, heading for the backroom and shutting the door behind me. Alone in the cool, dark space, I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could feel the start of a panic attack coming on, but I had learned ways to combat my anxiety over the years. My most effective method for staving off a panic attack was to go for a walk outside, but seeing as that wasn’t an option, I went with plan B. I closed my eyes, continued to breathe, and counted backward from 99.

At 53, I could feel my heart rate coming down, and just in time, too. Al opened the door right then and looked at me with a worried expression.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I’m fine," I said. "And no, I’m not really hurt. Sorry I am taking so long. I just didn’t know where the mop was."

He laughed. "I didn’t expect you to. This is your first shift and I usually don’t bother mopping the floors until after closing. With all the glass on the floor, though, I’m definitely going to have to grab the broom and a wet rag."

"I will." Looking to my right, I spotted a bucket with rags inside. I reached for it. "You go back to tending bar and let me take care of this."

"Are you kidding? You’re not going anywhere near that mess."

I gulped. "Oh. I understand. I’ll get out of your way. Go get my things from upstairs and?—"

"What?" He shook his head. "I don’t want you out of the way. I just need you to go clean the glass out of your feet. The last thing I need is you filing a workplace compensation suit against me."

"Huh?"

"It was a joke," he said, laughing at me. "A bad one, I now see. Go upstairs and change, wash your feet off, and come back down when you’re less shaken up, okay?"

"You mean… I’m not fired?"

"Fired?" He drew back with surprise. "Why would you be fired? It was an accident."

"But you warned me not to move too quickly, and?—"

"And you couldn’t have known that Rory was going to whip around so fast with all those glasses in hand," he said. "I swear to god, that kid always finds a way to start trouble."

His use of the word ‘kid’ felt a little more insulting than accurate. If I were to guess, I would’ve said the man I ran into had been around my age. And his name—Rory—wasn’t what I expected either, but it actually fit him nicely.

Rory.

It had a good ring to it.

"I’m assuming you don’t want to work the rest of your shift with a soaking wet shirt, and I’m worried that you might have glass pieces in your skin, so you really should go shower off." He put his hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the supply closet. "Call me if you need anything. There’s a first aid kit under the sink, but if you need to go to urgent care, I can close early and drive you."

Again, I had no idea what to do in the face of Al’s kindness. I stared at him in confusion, and after a couple of seconds, he snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Yoo-hoo, earth to Katrina. Are you sure you’re okay? Did you get hit on the head or something?"

"Wha– Oh. No. Sorry. I’m all good. And I’m going upstairs."

I didn’t want to second guess this generosity in case that would make Al himself wonder why he was being so nice to a poor excuse for a bartender like me. Plus, the skin under my shirt was starting to itch, and I was dying to get out of the wet clothes. Outside in the bar, I spotted the man on his hands and knees, desperately trying to clean up the mess with a stack of napkins. I smiled but looked away before he could see me. From our short interaction earlier, I could tell that this man would prove to be a distraction. It was best to go upstairs and shower, then come back down after I was certain he and his friends had already left.

Then, I could truly focus on my work and make sure I didn’t make any other fireable mistakes.

An hour later, I was wearing my only other clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt I’d taken from a donation bin outside a food bank when I was in New York City the month before. It was tie-dye and ugly as hell, but it covered all the important bits, and I wasn’t trying to impress anyone anyway. My hair was short enough that just rubbing it with a towel helped it dry most of the way, and I didn’t even bother putting on another face of makeup. All I had was cheap mascara that was clumpy and expired, and an eyeliner pen that was so dull that I had no choice but to give myself raccoon eyes with it.

Maybe once I got my first paycheck, I could buy some drugstore makeup and upgrade my look a little. I heard that women who put more effort into their appearance got better tips in food service, but tonight was going to be a wash regardless. The bar was only open for another two hours, and I was honestly just feeling lucky to still have a job.

Downstairs, there were fewer people drinking at the bar than when I left. The mess had been taken care of, and the man who was at least partially to blame—Rory—was nowhere to be seen. His crew was gone as well. I sighed with relief and joined Al behind the counter. The woman he’d been flirting with at the beginning of my shift was still there, but she was taking a phone call at the far end of the bar.

"Feel better?"

"Immensely," I said with a smile. "Thanks for letting me change and wash the beer off."

"Not a problem," he said. "It would’ve been a nightmare to keep working with all of that on you." He nodded in the direction of the front door. "Rory and his friends just left. He waited around for a while, wanting to apologize to you again in person, but I told him I didn’t know when you would be returning. His friends were getting antsy, so eventually, they took off. He told me to let you know he’s really sorry and that he’ll pay to replace your clothes. He left his phone number on the back of his receipt if you want to call him."

"That’s not necessary," I said. "My clothes weren’t ruined. They just need to be washed in hot water. You got a laundromat in town?"

"Sure, but you can use my machines if you’d like," said Al. "Just leave your clothes in a bag by my back door tonight before you go to bed, and I’ll throw them in for you."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

Did this guy ever quit being so nice?

"Great," he said. "Now, just to keep any potential spills to a minimum, I’m going to keep you behind the counter for the rest of the night. Is that okay?"

I laughed. "Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll finish wiping everything off and clean some glasses. You go ahead and see if your new friend wants a refill."

"Who?" He feigned ignorance. "You mean, Missy?"

"If that’s her name."

"I wouldn’t say we’re friends, per se," he corrected me. "She’s just in town for the summer, and this is her second time in the bar."

"Well, go give her decent service so she decides to come back for a third time. I’ve got everything covered over here."

He laughed but did as I said.

I watched him walk down to the end of the bar just as the woman he clearly had a crush on, Missy, got off her call. They started talking again, but I didn’t want to eavesdrop. Not on a man who had been so good to me thus far. I grabbed a clean rag from under the bar, wet it with warm water, and started cleaning at the opposite end from them. Far enough that I could only overhear when the two of them shared a laugh. Five minutes later, the front door opened and I looked up to see Rory smiling at me.

"You’re back." I frowned. "Al said you left with your friends."

"I was. But now I’m here again."

"Where’s the rest of your crew?"

"I walked them over to the next bar," he said. "Bought them a round, then snuck back here to see if you were done showering. Which you are, and that’s great because I have to tell you again how sorry I am. Truly. Please tell me the glass didn’t cut too deep into your foot."

"No, they were more like scratches," I said. "They stopped bleeding almost right away. I honestly don’t even feel any pain or anything."

"Thank god. And what about your clothes?"

"Those will be fine, too."

"Alright," he said, coming up to the bar. "Still, what do I owe you? I already paid Al for the beers I wasted, but I want to give you something, too. He said this was your first shift, and I want to at least pay some money for what you might’ve missed out on when it comes to tips. You had to go upstairs for a while to clean up, so how much do you think you would have made in that time?"

"I have no idea." I laughed. "But really, it’s fine. These things happen, and it’s not like Al is going to take the cost of the glasses out of my paycheck or anything."

"He better not." The edge in his voice surprised me. Why did he care so much about how my boss handled the situation?

"He’s way too nice for that."

Rory scoffed. "If you say so." He took a seat on the stool directly in front of me and made himself comfortable. "He and I don’t have the best relationship."

"I gathered as much. But you’ll have to forgive me if I take his side in this little dispute the two of you have."

"Ah, c’mon! Is this because I spilled beer on you? You can’t hold that against me forever."

I smiled. "No, it’s because Al has been a really good friend to me ever since I got to town. That means a lot to me. Sorry, but he’s already earned my loyalty. You haven’t."

"That’s fair. When did you get to town anyway?" he asked. "I haven’t seen you around before tonight."

"Yesterday."

He whistled. "And you already got a job? You move fast."

I neither confirmed nor denied this.

"Where did you come from?"

"I’ve lived all over," I said noncommittally. "Are you going to order another drink? Because technically, I’m not supposed to let you take up a seat at the bar unless you order a drink."

Rory looked down at the row of empty seats next to him and smirked. "Really? You’re going to hold me to that rule when the place is basically empty?"

I shrugged. "I’m just trying to do my job." Also, I wanted him to leave. He was doing exactly what I worried he would—distract me. Not to mention, he was asking too many questions. That was one of the other reasons I currently had more loyalty to Al. He didn’t pry.

"In that case, I’ll take a gin and tonic. On the rocks."

I nodded and turned to get going on his drink. When it was done, and I slid it across the counter to him, he sipped and smiled. "Mmm. Best gin and tonic I’ve ever had."

"I highly doubt that."

"No, really," he said. "It’s a grade-A masterpiece. Who do I have the honor of thanking for this perfect drink?"

"Sam Malone."

"Good one," he said with a smile. "But really, what’s your name?"

I licked my lips and looked down towards Al. He was engrossed in a conversation with Missy and not paying attention, but I knew I could use him as an excuse anyway since Rory hadn’t taken his eyes off me since he entered the bar.

"Sorry," I said. "Al just pointed to the back room, which means he needs me to bring out some more bottles and do some, uh, inventory." I talked fast, hoping that it would make up for my lack of a decent excuse. I didn’t want it to be too obvious I was lying. "Settle up with Al when you’re done with your drink." I stepped back from the bar.

"Wait, I didn’t catch?—"

"I’m coming, Al!" I yelled, prompting the man to look away from Missy and frown at me. I nodded to him as I passed, muttering under my breath, "Just go with it. I’ll be in the back room." Then I disappeared through the open door and found myself in Al’s office and not the place where he kept the extra liquor bottles or any sort of inventory. Now, my lie felt even more ridiculous.

I overheard Al saying something to Rory a few seconds later, and then the bell over the front door rang out, announcing his departure for the second time that night. I waited a little while longer, just in case, then stepped back into the main room and smiled meekly.

"Is he gone?"

"Yeah, he’s gone," Al said. "But he didn’t believe your cover story for a second."

I winced. "I was afraid of that. It wasn’t my best."

Al cleared his throat. "Listen," he said. "I know I was going on about Rory earlier, not being too nice, but I don’t actually think he’s a bad guy. He just bugs me, that’s all. But he seems to like you. He looked like a sad puppy when he walked out just now. Maybe go easy on him next time."

"It’s not personal," I said. "I’m just not looking to date right now."

Al put his hands in the air. "Fair enough. It’s your business anyway. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t rejecting the poor boy because of something I said."

"No, it has nothing to do with you," I said somberly. "I have my own reasons."