carefully placing them back into the cool recess near the ice bucket.
One at a time I set them down in deep thought. “Hey, Greg, why do you suppose
someone would make up they have a boyfriend?”
Greg, being a seedy, seventy-year-old man with no teeth and
questionable hygiene, lifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes to me with an air of
surprise. He even glanced behind him as if to make sure there wasn’t another
Greg around. There wasn’t, he was the only person in the bar. He had been
cocked up in the corner of the bar, his usual daytime haunt to enjoy a quiet
beer in the air conditioning and watch The Bold and the Beautiful at 4 p.m. I never had the heart to change the channel, he was emotionally
invested. What he wasn’t emotionally invested in, I thought, was my random
question, although some people are just full of surprises as Greg finished his
wheezing coughing fit, worthy of a painful grimace, and took a deep sigh.
“Maybe she just wants to fit in.”
I nodded, that made sense, big note herself in front of
people who didn’t know her. “Do you think it’s something someone would do to
make someone jealous?” I asked, thinking if someone who had lived for seventy
years didn’t know, buggered if I could ever find the right answer.
Greg shrugged. “I guess.” Geez, a real pearl of wisdom.
I scoffed. “Typical; immature bloody game playing.”
At this point, with the usual daytime bar with few
stragglers I was starting to take Greg’s words as the Bible.
“Love trouble?” Greg croaked with his aged, raspy voice.
“What?! Oh God, no, no way,” I said a bit too quickly.
Greg looked at me as if he wasn’t buying it, or was it due
to the cataract operation he needed? It was hard to tell.
Ha! Love life. I don’t think so. It was Mel, my kid sister’s
friend, Bluey’s daughter. There was no way I would even think about acting on
it.
“Not gonna happen,” I voiced, mainly to myself.
Greg didn’t look so convinced. “So, are you going to call
her out, let her know you know … about the boyfriend caper?”
Ha! Old Greg was paying attention after all. Good on him.
I smirked, the cogs turning in my head. “Oh, I’m going to do
better than that.”
Greg’s white caterpillar eyebrows disappeared up beneath his
fuzzy, overly long hair.
“She likes to play games, I’ll play. I’ll make it so she
confesses the truth.”
“And how you going to do that?”
By morphing into her Prince fucking Charming.
“Oh, I’ll think of something, old mate, don’t you worry
about that.”
I would make Melanie Sheehan blush more fiercely before the
week was out; in fact, I bloody well looked forward to it.
Chapter
Nineteen
Mel
The pebbles under my thongs crunched as I ran along the
drive, horrified how late I was to start my shift.
Melba was going to kill me.
Amy didn’t seem too stressed, she didn’t have a strict start
time like me. I guess dating the owner gave her some leeway, she simply propped
herself on the picnic table out front, stretching her legs out to tan in the
sun, as if she had all the time in the world. I skipped every second step,
running along the porch and slamming my palms against the door and pushing into
the main bar, breathless, and my hair wild and tangled around my shoulders. I
grabbed for my elastic band around my wrist and worked on securing it into a
low ponytail, still quickstepping past the bar.
“Your boyfriend rang.”
I skidded to a halt, my head snapping around so fast to
where Max stood casually behind the bar, flicking the TV over. He didn’t look
at me; he simply just looked bored. Did he just say what I thought he did?
“S-sorry?”
Settling on the news he tossed the remote aside as he
deadpanned, “Your boyfriend called. Eric, is it? He said for you to give him a
call back.”
What the actual fuck.
Be cool, Mel. Just be cool.
I swallowed. “Oh, thanks, yeah, I’ll give him a call later
as I’m already late.”
Max shrugged, and as
One at a time I set them down in deep thought. “Hey, Greg, why do you suppose
someone would make up they have a boyfriend?”
Greg, being a seedy, seventy-year-old man with no teeth and
questionable hygiene, lifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes to me with an air of
surprise. He even glanced behind him as if to make sure there wasn’t another
Greg around. There wasn’t, he was the only person in the bar. He had been
cocked up in the corner of the bar, his usual daytime haunt to enjoy a quiet
beer in the air conditioning and watch The Bold and the Beautiful at 4 p.m. I never had the heart to change the channel, he was emotionally
invested. What he wasn’t emotionally invested in, I thought, was my random
question, although some people are just full of surprises as Greg finished his
wheezing coughing fit, worthy of a painful grimace, and took a deep sigh.
“Maybe she just wants to fit in.”
I nodded, that made sense, big note herself in front of
people who didn’t know her. “Do you think it’s something someone would do to
make someone jealous?” I asked, thinking if someone who had lived for seventy
years didn’t know, buggered if I could ever find the right answer.
Greg shrugged. “I guess.” Geez, a real pearl of wisdom.
I scoffed. “Typical; immature bloody game playing.”
At this point, with the usual daytime bar with few
stragglers I was starting to take Greg’s words as the Bible.
“Love trouble?” Greg croaked with his aged, raspy voice.
“What?! Oh God, no, no way,” I said a bit too quickly.
Greg looked at me as if he wasn’t buying it, or was it due
to the cataract operation he needed? It was hard to tell.
Ha! Love life. I don’t think so. It was Mel, my kid sister’s
friend, Bluey’s daughter. There was no way I would even think about acting on
it.
“Not gonna happen,” I voiced, mainly to myself.
Greg didn’t look so convinced. “So, are you going to call
her out, let her know you know … about the boyfriend caper?”
Ha! Old Greg was paying attention after all. Good on him.
I smirked, the cogs turning in my head. “Oh, I’m going to do
better than that.”
Greg’s white caterpillar eyebrows disappeared up beneath his
fuzzy, overly long hair.
“She likes to play games, I’ll play. I’ll make it so she
confesses the truth.”
“And how you going to do that?”
By morphing into her Prince fucking Charming.
“Oh, I’ll think of something, old mate, don’t you worry
about that.”
I would make Melanie Sheehan blush more fiercely before the
week was out; in fact, I bloody well looked forward to it.
Chapter
Nineteen
Mel
The pebbles under my thongs crunched as I ran along the
drive, horrified how late I was to start my shift.
Melba was going to kill me.
Amy didn’t seem too stressed, she didn’t have a strict start
time like me. I guess dating the owner gave her some leeway, she simply propped
herself on the picnic table out front, stretching her legs out to tan in the
sun, as if she had all the time in the world. I skipped every second step,
running along the porch and slamming my palms against the door and pushing into
the main bar, breathless, and my hair wild and tangled around my shoulders. I
grabbed for my elastic band around my wrist and worked on securing it into a
low ponytail, still quickstepping past the bar.
“Your boyfriend rang.”
I skidded to a halt, my head snapping around so fast to
where Max stood casually behind the bar, flicking the TV over. He didn’t look
at me; he simply just looked bored. Did he just say what I thought he did?
“S-sorry?”
Settling on the news he tossed the remote aside as he
deadpanned, “Your boyfriend called. Eric, is it? He said for you to give him a
call back.”
What the actual fuck.
Be cool, Mel. Just be cool.
I swallowed. “Oh, thanks, yeah, I’ll give him a call later
as I’m already late.”
Max shrugged, and as
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