like she cheated on me. I’m the one that ended it and while I would have liked it to have not been THE NEXT DAY she got back together with her ex, I can’t blame anyone but myself.
Tommy’s shoulder shifts as he cracks his neck.
She flashes a tenuous smile to me as she pours into three glasses. “I need one for myself,” she laughs, the sound strained and nervous.
“How’ve you been?” I mutter, feeling lame.
She glances my way, and stops pouring. “Okay. You?”
“Great,” I lie. “Really great.” She nods and starts pouring again, her eyes locked on the glass for focus. This is nuts. What are we doing?
She glances to both of us, lays the bottle on the counter, and hands Tommy a glass. He drinks without waiting for a toast. She and I both follow his lead, looking at each other awkwardly. Suddenly, I wish he wasn’t here. I want to talk about everything. I need to–
“What do you think of the patio?” she asks, flicking her eyes to it as she shifts her weight on her feet. Tommy and I both look.
“It’s good,” Tommy manages, which draws Annie’s smile his way.
“Yeah? Thank you, Tommy. Brendan, it was your idea, do you like how it turned out?”
I nod, relieved to have something neutral to focus on. “It looks great. Really great. I brought these for you.” I put the plans on the counter in between us, and slide them over. “I guess you don’t need them anymore, though.”
“That’s okay,” she offers, quickly. “I can keep them as a souvenir.”
I smile, loving that she said that; that we think alike. I stare, transfixed, aching for her as she pulls a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles up at me from underneath her eyelashes. Fuck. It’s like she glows.
Tommy and I both watch as she walks out from behind the bar, saying, “I’m sorry. I forgot to lock the door. Hang on.” She smiles apologetically, and jogs over. “It’s not like he’d come back a second time, but…better to be safe than sorry.”
Tommy leans his elbows on the counter, brings his glass to his lips and downs it. He holds the glass in both hands, his fingers tight. I glance over to him, surprised that he sucked that down so fast. It was a five-finger pour. The corners of my eyes tighten as I take in his face. He looks like he’s about to fight. Being a man, I know the look all too well. He’s got that look. I scan his body and it’s tight. If he were a rattlesnake, we’d hear the warning rattle.
Annie senses something, too. She’s walking back to us from the door, but she’s carefully glancing from him to me. We exchange a look.
“Tommy? You alright?” I ask, slowly.
Annie watches him put the glass down, and freezes, staring at his hand, her face turning white as her mouth falls open. “It was you!”
Chapter Eight
Annie
My Job: fill empty glasses. Habit: to look at said empty glasses. Heart: exploded into shattering bits as I look and see the ring.
I’m frozen, no more than three feet away from him. My eyes fly up to meet his, which are now tiny slits of evil.
With an eerily calm, low voice, he asks, “What’s me, Annie?” He’s poised and ready to pounce.
Brendan’s on the seat next to him, which is essentially behind Tommy from where I’m standing. “Annie, what’s wrong?”
My eyes flit to the register to where I’ve left my phone. I lick my lips, not moving.
Tommy sees me looking and knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I make a break for my phone to call 911, yelling, “Brendan, grab him! He’s the gunman!” but Tommy lunges for me and grabs me in a chokehold, turning to face us to Brendan who’s stunned and didn’t have time to react. Brendan jumps off the chair, his arms out in front of him as he squares off, ready to fight. “Tommy! Let her go!”
“It’s him,” I gasp to Brendan, my voice cracking under the pressure of his grip. “It’s him!”
“Fuck! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! I knew I shouldn’t have come here! FUCK!” Tommy yells, filled with rage. We know that sound well. His yelling sounds exactly like the gunman. “Brendan, back off or I’ll break her fucking neck!”
Brendan’s eyes cut from Tommy to me and he steps back. He’s got the same look he had the night of the shooting, when he was so angry he couldn’t get the money