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And I couldn’t spot Sean anywhere. I mean, not that I was desperately looking for him. But he’d excused himself to use the bathroom and hadn’t come back. Whatever—it wasn’t my concern.
After a little time in the VIP room sipping my drink and trying to ignore the two way-too-cute couples on both sides of the space necking like crazy-in-love high-schoolers, a little leg-stretching was in order. But the plan proved to be less-than-ideal. The moment I stepped out of the VIP room I found myself deep in one of those moments when you’re surrounded by people but feel completely alone.
And then I started worrying about my problems. My lack of job and my still-on-the-ground-dreams and my ever-increasing brokenness and then, as if I needed anything else to worry about, the bullshit with James and his “offer.”
The worst part was that I kept it all to myself. Sure, I could’ve told any of my friends, but tonight was supposed to be about leaving all that outside. I was sure that if I were to mention the stunt that James had pulled, every one of the guys would be on the next flight to San Fran to whoop some billionaire ass. As nice as that sounded, the entire male half of the wedding party being in jail probably wouldn’t be the most conducive thing to a nice, wholesome wedding.
Nope, this was my battle to fight. And that was my style, anyway. It was good to have people who had your back, but at the end of the day who could you rely on but yourself, you know? And right at that moment, watching everyone around me seemingly paired off and having fun, I truly felt that there was no one for me but, well, me.
I needed a drink, but I didn’t want to go back to the make-out closet, so I headed up to the bar for a little something to take the edge off. It took some doing to work my way through the throngs of people, but eventually I was there at the long copper sweep of the bar, the staff about the coolest-of-the-cool LA types.
I grabbed a nearby menu and began going through what they had, my stomach dropping as my eyes moved over the prices. They were high, to say the least—two or three of them would be enough to cover my damn phone bill for the month. And that was the sort of thinking I had to be doing, since my money situation was getting direr by the day.
“Yeah?” called out one of the bartenders as he placed his hands on the counter and gave me a look that made it clear he wanted this process to go as quickly as possible.
I looked over the menu, trying to find the part where, you know, they had the cheap drinks listed—the kinds for broke-asses like me.
“Umm…,” I said, desperately scanning the menu for a Bud or something that was cheap and I could just sip on. “Do you have any, uh, beer?”
A look of mild annoyance flashed on the bartender’s face, as if he’d realized at that moment I was going to be one of “those” customers. He reached further down the bar and grabbed another menu, dropping it on the bar in front of me.
“Beer list is here,” he said. “All local.”
I picked up the menu and looked it over. Sure enough, they were all local beers I’d never heard of from breweries with names like “Five Havens” and “Gritty Cow” or whatever else. And, of course, a pint of these was only slightly less than the overpriced cocktails.
Shit—it was looking like I was about to spend way, way more than I needed to on a drink.
“Umm,” I said again, buying time.
“You need another minute?” The bartender barely masked the impatience in his voice.
Before either of us could say anything else, one of the other bartenders approached. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the first guy and said something in his ear I couldn’t hear. Then he gestured further down the bar toward…someone? I stood on my tiptoes and craned my neck to get a better look.
I saw him then. It was someone all right. It was Sean.
He saw that I’d seen him and gave a nod and another one of those smiles that turned me on as surely as if he’d put his hand between my legs.
The bartender turned his attention back to me. “They’re on him.”
I raised a finger. “One second, please.”
With that, I stepped away from the bar and headed over to where Sean was standing.
“The next part of this process is that you order a drink,” he said. “But if you want to cut to the ‘talking to the handsome stranger who treated you’ part, I’m not going to complain.” All easy smiles and charm, as always.
