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“Oh, it is? Who’s the bartender?”
“You are.”
“So it’s ready when I say it’s ready.”
“What’s your problem?”
“Whiny manbabies who don’t know what a gin and tonic looks like.”
“You suck.”
My eyes pointedly flicker from him to Dixon. “You want to repeat that again so he can hear you?”
"Who’s he? Your boyfriend?” He says, his arrogance dissipating with each syllable as he actually looks at Dixon and sees the fresh blood on him.
“Maybe he is. But he definitely wouldn’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me. So, are you going to speak up and start shit with my man over there, or are you going to take your cocktail like a good boy?”
I slide the glass across the bar to him. He slides back a twenty.
“Keep the change. Just… I’m sorry. Please don’t tell your boyfriend what I said.”
I pocket the twenty and give the man a nod, dismissing him with as much kindness as I can muster. There's a tightness in my chest, a coil of something warm and complicated that I don't want to unspool, not here, not now. It felt strangely right to call Dixon my boyfriend, and not just because it shut that asshole customer up and got me a decent tip out of it.
When I turn around, Reggie’s there. He gives me a smile that’s so gentle it’s disconcerting seeing it on the face of a man so large and intimidating.
"Bourbon, straight up," he says.
I grab a clean glass and pour the bourbon smoothly, watching it slosh gently against the sides. My hands are steady, but inside I'm anything but. Thinking about Dixon has my heart and mind in a tailspin.
"You know, that Dixon…" Reggie pauses as I slide his drink toward him. "He really cares about you, Alex."
"Sure he does," I say, sarcastically.
Reggie takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
"No joke. He didn't hesitate jumping into that fight because... Well, he told me it's because you mean something to him. He said he’d take on the world for you. Granted, didn’t seem the happiest about it, but I know when a man’s bullshitting, and he meant what he said."
My heart skips in my chest. The distress and confusion mix into an emotional cocktail that's more potent than anything I can make behind this bar. Feelings for Dixon? Of course, they’re there; swirled deep within me like an undercurrent I’ve been desperately trying to swim against. A smile tries to creep onto my lips at the thought of Dixon standing up for me, but my mind panics at the same time and reminds me that this is not simple — it’s messy and raw and could unravel my entire life if the road to the truth about who really killed my brother leads back to Dixon.
I can’t feel this way about him.
I can’t.
But I do.
Reggie leans forward. "Alex, don’t look like I’ve just told you the world's ending. It's OK to feel, you know? People care about each other. It’s part of life."
“It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated.” Reggie finishes his drink, and his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "How'd you meet him, anyway?"
I grab a rag and start wiping down the counter, looking for something to do with my hands. "He's helping me through the death of my brother."
He nods, his expression softening. "I'm sorry for your loss."
There's sincerity there, a depth that I hadn't expected from him.
"Yeah," I say, swallowing back the lump that forms in my throat. "My brother was everything to me, and then…"
