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JAY
Icontinue to go through the motions required of me, but I’m having trouble keeping my thoughts on the customers in The Rusty Oak.
Most of them are wet from the rain outside, and they huddle over their drinks, eyes darting around. The group that is out tonight isn’t our typical group of revelers. These people are looking for some comfort from the storm that’s heading toward us. It’s our job to cheer them up, make them feel like they’ll be safe riding it out here… as long as we keep a steady stream of drinks flowing, they’ll be fine.
With Violet gone, it’s just two cocktail waitresses—Fiona and Jewel—and myself. We are kept busy hopping from customer to customer.
I can’t stop thinking about the way Violet ended our conversation and walked out. She’s been so sensitive lately. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking when she won’t have a conversation with me without getting upset.
I don’t understand why she’s so hung up on me and Fiona. It’s not like we were even kissing. She just walked in, and we were standing close. I’ve also been clear that I care about Violet, even if it’s maybe not in the way Violet wants to be cared about.
I would never intentionally hurt Violet, and I hope she knows that. I’m not so sure, though.
“Jay, another round for table five,” Fiona calls over to me, pulling me back into the present.
“Got it.” I don’t have time to think about Violet right now. I mix the drinks quickly, focusing on the task at hand. I need to keep my customers happy, and that’s what matters.
Just as I hand the drinks over to Fiona, the front door swings open with a loud creak, and my sister storms into the bar. Her face is flushed, and she looks panicked.
Hannah rarely ever comes here because she’s not a big drinker. I can’t believe she’s braving the wind and rain to come here now.
I turn toward her, hoping she’ll be the welcome distraction I need. “Hey, Hannah, what?—”
“Jay, have you seen Violet?” she asks, her voice urgent.
“Yeah, she was here at the start of her shift, then she left. Why are you asking like that?” There’s panic in Hannah’s voice, and I don’t like it.
“I’ve been trying to get in contact with her, but she’s not answering her phone. I’m worried. We’ve been talking a lot, every day. I called her after the community center closed early so we could get home. And she’s not answering. Why wouldn’t she answer? She said she was working, but if she’s not here, then…”
Hannah is definitely panicked. She’s closer to hysterical right now. “Okay, calm down. Freaking out won’t help anything. When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“Two hours ago. She texted me and said she was going to work and we could talk later. But she usually texts me during her breaks. I didn’t think you’d have that many customers, and…”
I lay a hand on Hannah’s arm, trying to calm her down. “Hannah, breathe. The storm is bad, but it’s not that bad.” But even as the words leave my mouth, I imagine a hundred different scenarios of what could have happened to Violet. I imagine her car skidding off the road when she hits a huge puddle and starts hydroplaning. I imagine the wind flipping her car. I imagine something falling and trapping her in her car.
It’s hard not to let the panic start taking over me too.
“Call her,” I command.
Hannah shakes her head but pulls out her phone and presses Violet’s name. She puts it on speaker, and I hear it start to ring.
“Jay! Two Midnight Bashers!” Jewel, the other cocktail waitress, calls.
I wave at her to let her know I heard, but I don’t start moving. I need to hear Violet pick up. She’s going to answer and tell Hannah that she needs some time or… whatever. But she’s completely fine.
I don’t like the way Hannah’s panic is sinking into me. It’s like my skin is absorbing her panic, and now, I can only think of worst-case scenarios.
Finally, it goes to voicemail, and Hannah hangs up.
“Have you tried texting her?”
“About a hundred times.”
Jewel marches over to the bar, clearly annoyed that her order hasn’t been prepared yet. I want to snap at her that I’m dealing with something that’s actually urgent, but I don’t.
I make the drinks for her, then a couple for Fiona as well. I glance around at the customers nearby to check on their drink levels before reapproaching Hannah. She’s staring at the screen of her phone.
“Is it possible she went home and maybe fell asleep and her phone is on do not disturb?” I’m grasping at straws here.
