6. Rory

CHAPTER 6

RORY

“ I told you it was going to be a rough day if you went to bed on an empty stomach,” I said to Nic when she sat down next to me in the break room and groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you heed my warning and eat something before you went to bed last night? You stormed out of there like you were mad or something.”

“Don’t talk about eating,” she said. All she had with her was a water bottle and some saltines. I’d brought a sandwich with me but didn’t have much of an appetite either, so it was pushed off to the side. I wasn’t hungover, but I didn’t sleep very well the night before, so I was bone tired. “In fact, I need you to not talk about anything for a second. It’s so loud out on the docks, and my head is killing me. Can we just spend this lunch hour in silence?”

“Fine by me?—”

“Heyo!” Jackson, the month-old hire who didn’t even look old enough to drink, came into the break room with a massive paper bag lunch. He was a strapping young man with broad shoulders and cauliflower ears from years of being on the wrestling team. He was going to go pro, or at least that’s what he told people at the fishery, only he has a bum knee that kept him from really pursuing the career. I’d heard the story at least half a dozen times at that point. “How’s it going, you guys?”

Nic put her fingers against her temples, but I managed a smile. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault we were overly sensitive to his booming voice today. “I’m doing alright. Nic’s feeling a little under the weather, though, so if you wouldn’t mind talking softer, she’d really appreciate it.”

Jackson’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead with concern. “Oh yeah, of course,” he whispered. “Sorry, Nic. Do you need anything? I think I have some Tylenol in my locker. I could grab it for you?”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I just need to sit here and not do anything for a few minutes. I gotta keep my eyes closed, too, because the room started spinning, and it won’t stop. You two talk amongst yourselves.”

The disappointment was obvious in Jackson’s expression. He had a crush on Nic—like most of the guys we worked with—and he clearly wanted to be the one to help her make it through the day. She put her head down on the table, however, and he gave up trying to engage her in conversation.

“You guys go out drinking last night?” he asked me.

“Yeah, we needed to blow off some steam. Nic went a little too hard, though.”

“I went out for a beer, too,” Jackson said. Well, that answers the question about his age. Unless he had a fake ID. “But I’m trying to save money, so I didn’t go too wild. Called it a night pretty early. Any chance you guys stopped in at Smart Choice?”

I frowned and noticed Nic shift a little in the seat next to me, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Yeah, why?”

“There’s a new woman who works there,” he said. “Did you see her? My friend from high school, Jen, was with me, and she's totally in love with her.”

“Your friend Jen is in love with her?” I asked. “Does that mean she’s gay?”

“Jen? Yeah.”

“No—I meant the bartender.” That would explain why she’d rebuffed me, but it would also be a major disappointment.

“Oh, I have no idea,” said Jackson with a shrug. “Jen was way too chicken even to go over and talk to her. She’s only 21 and just came out last month, so I think she’s a long way from walking up to a hot older bartender and putting the moves on her. I just thought it was kinda cute, seeing her all flustered like that. Plus, I was wondering if you got the story on her. It’s so rare for newbies to show up out of the blue like that.”

“I didn’t get much,” I admitted.

“Despite his multiple efforts,” Nic mumbled grumpily.

Jackson furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Ignore her,” I said. “She’s just mad because I ditched the group for a little while last night.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, Jen and I are going out again over the weekend, and I’m going to try and make her at least say hi next time we’re there. Even if the woman isn’t gay, bartenders always flirt back because it gets them extra tips, right? I think it would be good for Jen’s self-esteem.”

An image of Jackson’s friend sitting at the bar and hitting on the new bartender flashed through my mind, and I was filled with an uncharacteristic sense of jealousy, which was ridiculous because this twenty-one-year-old girl who was afraid to even talk to a hot woman wasn’t a threat to me. Why would I care if she tried to flirt with the bartender?

I didn’t.

Or at least that’s what I told myself. I smiled at Jackson. “I wish her good luck,” I said.

“Maybe she won’t strike out like you did,” said Nic.

I shot her a look, but she still had her head down. I had no idea what had gotten into her, but she was being particularly cutting with me today. “New rule,” I said. “You have to call in sick the day after we go out drinking because I don’t like it when you’re so snippy.”

“You’d be snippy too if you felt like this.”

“Seriously, Nic,” Jackson said. “Let me just get you some Tylenol. It’ll help.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Nic pushed her chair back and stood. “I think I just need some fresh air. I’m going for a walk. If Elliot asks where I am, cover for me.”

“I’ll try.”

She left the room without another word. I watched her go for a second before turning back to Jackson. “Word to the wise, when Nic’s in a mood like this, it’s better just to leave her alone. Unless you want to get your head bitten off again.”

He waved a hand in the air. “Ah, she wasn’t so bad. She was mostly biting your head off, not mine. Plus, she’s allowed to have a rough day every now and then.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, Jackson,” I said, getting up to leave. “You poor love-sick bastard.”