Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,40
feel like doin’ me a favor?” I ask before he can order another drink.
His buddy Earl leans into the conversation. “Whatchya need? I’d do anything to have you back instead of that moron you hired. Woulda called you back myself, but figured you needed some time to grieve for your old man.”
My jaw clenches.
“Shut up, Earl. The man’s doing the best he can without you bringing that up on his first day back,” Bill grumbles.
“It’s fine,” I interject before it gets out of hand, and those two start tearing into each other. They’ve both had their asses on a stool in this bar since the place opened, it seems like. I remember coming in here as a young teen with my dad, and they were always here. As much a fixture of the bar as the neon signs and liquor ads.
“I need you to go order a drink from the pretty girl I came in here with. She’s shy, and I’m trying to help her out.”
“I’ve seen a lot of women in my life, and that girl ain’t shy. She’s damaged,” Earl observes.
I glare at him. He holds up a hand to me while he takes a sip of his vodka soda. “Hey, I’m not trying to insult the girl.”
“I’ll do it,” Bill replies and starts to get off his stool.
“Make sure you don’t make her uncomfortable. No jokes. And don’t stare. I swear to God, I’ll rip your fuckin’ eyeballs out and shove ’em down your throat.”
The old man laughs. “You have my word.”
I grip the edge of the bar so tight that my knuckles blanch. I know why I’m doing this, why I’m pushing her, but that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier on me. If this goes wrong in any way, it’s going to gut me.
“Hey, loosen up. Bill will be a gentleman.”
“It’s not Bill I’m worried about,” I respond through gritted teeth.
“How long?” Earl asks cryptically.
“What?”
“How long have you had it this bad?”
I straighten and push away from the bar top. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
He takes a drink while eyeing me knowingly. “Never pegged you for a liar. Been a straight shooter for as long as I’ve known ya.”
“How ’bout you mind your own business and go back to drinking your vodka. You do that, and the next one’s on me.” Leaning a hip against the bar, I look toward Shelby. Bill’s just arrived, and he’s trying to gently get her attention.
“I’m not keen on taking your money, boy.”
I’d respond, but I’m too engrossed in watching the scenario with Shelby play out.
She’s gripping the rag tightly between her fingers as she turns to Bill. He’s leaning on the bar, but his body language isn’t threatening. The old man has a kind smile on his craggy face as he asks her for a drink. Her eyes grow wide, and she starts to look for me, so I turn back to Earl and busy myself with making another vodka.
“Bad,” he says on a grin.
“Shut the fuck up.”
After setting his drink in front of him, I turn back to Shelby.
My heart picks up in my chest as he says something else to her, and then she smiles. A genuine smile. She looks down at her fingers and finally drops the rag back into the bucket of water. Without looking at me, she walks to the chill chest, grabs a tall beer glass, and pours Bill a Sam Adams on tap.
There isn’t a word to describe the relief I feel. And the pride. An hour ago, this girl nearly had a panic attack because she was alone in the hallway to my apartment. Now, she’s standing behind a bar serving drinks and smiling while doing it.
Bill retakes his seat and slams the glass down. “This tastes like piss water. Grab me a bourbon, will you?”
For the second time tonight, I crack a smile. “Thank you,” I mutter as I place the drink in front of him.
“She’s something special there. Hang on tight to that one.”
“It isn’t like that.”
Bill just hums in response.
I walk away, back to Shelby, and before I get there, she steps up to the bar to help another man who’s ordering a drink. I let her do her thing, watching closely for any sign she’s uncomfortable. She says hi, asks if he’s having a good evening, and hands him a bottle of IPA. She freezes when he asks her to open a tab.
“I got it,” I step up next to her and murmur in