Page 37 of Trust Me

Chapter 11

Dean

I glanced up at the stylish sign as I approached the bar. It looked both professional and fun, like it had been designed with a real purpose. It was doing its job, judging by the crowd inside.

It was Saturday night, which was a stupid time to come here. Since I didn’t have Remi’s number and didn’t want to bother Oli at work, I just decided to take my chances. Confidence was like motivation—the act came before the actual feeling. So, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.

As I walked in the door, I was struck by how loud it was. Most of the people seemed like they were college-aged, and I was willing to bet the clientele was almost entirely made up of Harmon students. This place was only a couple miles from campus, so it was a prime spot for those looking to wind down or get into some shit at the end of the week. It’d probably be smarter to spend the time studying, but what did I know?

I shouldered my way through the crowd, not interested in waiting in the line. Most of the seats at the counter were free since everyone was in a group, so I snagged one. I spotted Remi behind the register, wearing a big, customer-service smile. Surprisingly, it didn’t look pasted on. While he took orders and slung drinks, he looked genuinely happy, like he did when he talked to Oli.

It took a while, but eventually, the line dwindled. Remi grabbed a rag and hurriedly wiped down the counter. As he passed me, he paused. Our eyes met, his hand frozen in place with the rag, and I forced myself to smile at him, even though I was on the defensive.

“Hey,” I said. “Busy in here.”

He grunted his agreement before he finished swiping the surface. He slung the rag over his shoulder, which almost made me wrinkle my nose.

When my brother was a senior, he’d gotten a job at the movie theater, even though my parents didn’t approve. He’d always come home smelling like popcorn. I imagined it was the same here with the scent of booze. Maybe vomit.

Did I really want this gig?

“Oliver said you have a spot to fill,” I went on when Remi continued to clean up without saying anything.

“Did he?”

“Said it’d be a good job for me.”

“Hm.”

Ah, hell.

With a huff, I got to my feet. This was going nowhere.

“I don’t know if you’re right for it,” he said as I began to turn around.

My hands fisted at my sides. “Oh yeah? Maybe you’ll enlighten me.”

He looked contemplative, but I was sure it was a show. I figured he’d known this was never going to happen as soon as Oli mentioned it.

“Forget it,” I muttered. “I kinda believed it when Oliver defended you, but I guess he’s not a great judge of character.”

“He’s the best judge of character, actually.”

Looking at him again, I found him pouring two shots. He pushed one over with two fingers, then picked up the other.

What was this, a freaking western movie?

Not wanting to back down, I put one hand on the counter and grabbed the glass with the other. After I knocked it back, I set it down cleanly, suppressing the urge to gag, then spun it while I took a second to consider his statement.

“You think so?” I finally asked.

He grabbed the glass from me, setting it behind the counter. “Always has been. Far better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Let me guess. You don’t trust anyone.”

The ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Eh, it’s complicated. But yeah.”

“If you know he’s a good judge of character, why don’t you trust his judgment?”