Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Had?” His face softens, and he puts down his burger he was about to take a bite out of.
“Ah-ah. It’s my turn.” I tease, reminding him of his own rules.
“That’s a hell of a cliffhanger.”
“She’s not dead. At least not that I’m aware of. The last time and only time I looked her up, she wasn’t singing, but she is working in the industry.” I try to keep any emotion out of my voice.
I know she got some notoriety because one time I heard her songs playing over the speakers at the grocery store. I knew her voice. She used to sing to me every night before I went to bed. I’d turned and walked out of the grocery store leaving my half-filled cart behind. The barrage of emotions I’d felt had been too much for me to handle.
When Dad passed, I don’t know why I did it, but I thought maybe I should tell her. After a quick search on the internet, I knew she didn’t give a shit about us. She has a whole new life.
“She left you. That’s fucked up. I don’t see how anyone can walk away from you.”
“You’re really good with your pickup lines.” I grab a fresh cup to get him another beer.
“It’s not a line.”
“Well—” I set his drink back down. “It wasn’t only me she left. It was this place and my dad. She never looked back. Not even when my dad passed.” My voice cracks. This time I can’t hide my emotions. I almost could forgive her for leaving me, but I will never be able to forgive her for hurting my dad.
“I’m sorry.” He reaches out and grabs my hand resting on the bar. “How long ago?”
“Almost nine months.” He gives my hand a squeeze. That same flash of heat from when he’d grabbed my hand earlier flows through me. “I miss him.”
When he first passed, it was all people wanted to talk to me about. I’d often end up in tears, so now the regulars never bring him up to me. It’s bittersweet. Some days I want to remember everything about him, and others I want to lock it away in the back of my mind.
“Your turn.” He doesn't let go of my hand.
“You’re not running away from a wife or girlfriend, are you?”
“Never had one, but things change.” Before I can ask him what that means, someone comes up to the bar to order a round.
“I’ll be back.” I pull my hand from his to go make their drinks.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I hear him say.
Liar. Everyone leaves. It’s the way of the world. Even if they don’t want to.
CHAPTER 5
DYLAN
The voice of an angel comment tickles some memory receptor in the back of my head, but I can’t quite bring it forward. There are a few singers that have the “angel” adjective used to describe their voices—Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, maybe Ariana Grande for everyone born after 2000. There’s someone else, but the name is escaping me.
I think about what I want to ask next. What is her type since she ruled me out? Or maybe what type of guy does she think I am? Other than someone who is into one-night stands. I wonder how I give that vibe off. Is it something I’m wearing?
She swings back into range.
“My turn,” I remind her.
She grabs a mug and flips one of the taps down. “Shoot.”
“Favorite memory.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Thought for sure you would go with a sex question.”
“Gotta keep you on your toes.” Inwardly I’m sighing with relief that I changed up the topic at the last minute.
She sets aside the mug and grabs another. “Favorite memory?” Her fingers dance along the top of the keg pull as if she’s sifting through, and discarding, memory cards in her brain.
“Halloween. Age ten. I dressed up as a Red Ranger, the OG power ranger, and my dad went as Magna Defender since he’s one of the canonically oldest power rangers. As we were out trick-or-treating, we ran into another dude dressed as the evil Green Ranger. Dad pretended to engage him in battle. As the two were fighting, the evil Green Ranger tripped on a rock or something and fell into some bushes. When he got up, his costume ripped, and his bare ass was hanging out.
“Dad tore his plastic pumpkin bucket in half, and then using his belt and some fabric from his own costume, somehow fixed the pumpkin halves over the guy’s ass. The other dude looked so funny with his butt covered in the plastic pumpkin that I nearly peed my pants laughing.” She arranges three full mugs on a tray and hoists it on top of her shoulder. “I’m going to deliver these, and when I come back, it’ll be my turn.”
I can’t wait. Her next question requires some nimbleness. She slides into the stool next to me and lays her tray on the bar. “What do you do for a living?”