work. On my orders of course. We’d crowned the winner of the band battle and named the Cherry Pies our new house band. They were surprisingly good, and I’d heard a rumor that a talent scout had even shown up at some point in the night.
All the bands asked the same thing on their way out. “When can we play at this venue again?”
I took their info and told them we’d do an open mic night every Tuesday and Wednesday when the house band wasn’t playing.
“We’re going to need to hire more people,” I told Ashton, bleary eyed as I closed down the kitchen and Richie made last call. Staff was way too low and service too slow tonight for my liking, but no one seemed to mind.
I started to help Richie wipe down tables when I noticed the chalk wall we’d painted on the far end of the bar had writing all over it.
‘Best nachos in town.’
‘Holy Avocado toast Batman.’
‘I lost my virginity tonight.’
Whoa, what?
“We carded everyone, right?” I asked Ashton as I read the chalkboard.
He grinned and nodded. “My buddy worked security, whole night was legit.”
This thing was thrown together so last minute it wasn’t even funny.
There were only about twenty people left in the bar when the clock struck 3 a.m.
Benjamin, leader of the Cherry Pies, grabbed the mic. “Alright, y’all, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
People booed, chugged their drinks and then started to walk out.
“Long Live Wayne’s Place!” A guy stumbled out with his fist raised in the air.
We all smiled and the band started to pack up. I finished wiping down the tables while Ashton did the bar top, and by the time we turned off the lights and got upstairs it was near 4 a.m. and my eyes were crossing.
I kicked off my shoes, faceplanted in Ashton’s bed, and didn’t bother brushing my teeth. Only when I felt the bed dip did I remember Ashton wanted to talk about the phone call. I peeled one eye open, praying against all odds that he was asleep next to me. He wasn’t. He sat fully clothed, looking down at me with a frown.
“You okay?” he asked.
My throat went dry, and I sighed, forcing myself to sit up. Taking a deep breath, I let it all out. “When you kicked me out of the hospital, I didn’t leave. I went downstairs and gave a sample with your Gran to be tested as a donor liver for your dad.”
His eyes went as wide as saucers but he didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“They called today and I’m a perfect match. Surgery is Monday.”
I could hear the crunch of his teeth when his jaw clenched; his nostrils flared and he got up, left the room and slammed the door.
Shit.
I heard him rustling around on the couch. I planned to give him a few minutes to cool off and go after him to talk but then I accidently fell asleep.
Ashton
Millie came out of the bedroom the next morning, puffy-eyed and hair tied in a top-knot. She still looked adorable but I was in no mood to tell her that. She was holding the papers I’d stayed up all night printing. The ones I’d left on the bed for her.
“Ashton.” She shook them at me, frowning.
“You wanna be a living transplant donor, you need to know the side effects,” I told her curtly.
The fact that she even thought her and my father’s lives were equal was laughable. If Millie died on the operating table and my father lived, I’d lose my fucking mind.
It was preposterous, the whole thing. But I didn’t want to push away the woman I’d just won back by yelling at her, so I decided to scare her instead.
“Have you ever had general anesthesia before?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I dunno. I got my wisdom teeth out…”
I scowled at her. “That’s not the same, and do you know how many people die from bleeding with the surgery? Did you know you have to give seventy percent of your right lobe? Or forty percent of your left depending what my dad needs?”
She nodded. “Yep. I researched it back when I was flying home, you know, right after you kicked me out of Tennessee.” She glared at me.
I flinched.
“It grows back in eight weeks, Ashton. I’m in the hospital for seven days and fully back to normal in only two months, and for that small amount of discomfort, I can save your dad’s