A.K.A. Page 5

  Shawn Williams and Carl Layton are the brew masters. They both work part-time and usually during the day, so I don’t see them often.

  Vickie Parks, known as Vik, is a server like Kat and me. Vik has been with Mich since the beginning. She’s lived on the Oregon coast for most of her life. When her parents divorced, she moved to Seattle where she spent her high school years with her mom, then moved back to Oregon after graduation. Vik is one of those people I call an E. She thinks she knows everything and everybody. And she spreads her thighs for just about everyone.

  Mark Bell is a fellow bartender and the closest I have to a true friend. He’s originally from Seattle, and as he puts it, was unfortunate to have attended the same high school as Vik. He moved to the area three years ago with his former lover, who left him shortly after for a local bigwig contractor who was, and still is, in the closet. His former lover, Harry comes to the pub now and then. It’s clear that he still cares for Mark, but Mark has moved on. He tells me all the time he was and will never be a one-man man. I wanted to tell him I was never a one-man woman. But that was Morgan, not Bri.

  There’s one other reason I like Mark; he too shares a passion for sailing, owning a thirty-foot cruiser, the same size as the one I once had. He’s asked me to sail with him a few times. I’ve had to beg off. Telling him I get terribly seasick, a line in my script that I know Peter added to steer me away from my passion, one that could link me to my past.

  I like working at the pub. Hell, I like working period. And I like living in Pine Rock. However, small-town life does come with its challenges. Everyone from the butcher to the bank teller wants to know your business. When you give them nothing, it seems to encourage them, and the rumors begin to fly. So I give them just enough to keep the rumors from flying too high. Just enough to keep them disinterested.

  Despite the challenges of small-town living, and the limitations of my MO, I’ve found being Brianna Richards… freeing. She’s a friendlier, less complicated person than Morgan Steel ever was. Other than a divorce from an abusive husband, her life is transparent and simple. She’s a woman who wants nothing other than to work, kayak, and watch the sunset.

  It’s Saturday night and the bar is overflowing with college kids looking to get drunk and laid. Not necessarily in that order.

  Mich has taken a few days off to be with her sister, so I’m helping Mark behind the bar.

  Kat sets her tray down in front of me. I pull up her order on the computer screen and begin filling it.

  “Friggin’ college kids. They’re such cheap bastards,” she says as she tucks a dollar into the front pocket of her apron.

  I half smile her way.

  Mark steps over to help me. “They’re not cheap, they’re poor,” he tells her. “Hell, I’m thirty, and I’m still paying on my student loans.”

  “You’re not thirty. You’re thirty-eight.”

  “Whatever,” he says.

  She rolls her eyes at him and then looks my way. “Gary and some of the guys are coming in tonight.”

  “Lucky you.”

  She frowns at me. Gary is her most recent boyfriend. He’s a firefighter in Newport and seemingly has endless friends for him and Kat to set me up with. I’ve managed to put them off, despite their relentless matchmaking.

  I fill the last pint and nod toward her tray.

  She smiles.

  “What?”

  “Gary has a friend down from Portland.”

  I smile despite myself. “Well, that’s a new approach.”

  “Yes it’s new, but it’s also true. Don’t they always say honesty is the best policy?”

  “I think they say honesty sucks,” Mark tells her.

  “No, I think it’s honesty sucks big time,” I add.

  “Whatever. You two drive me crazy.”

  Mark and I chuckle.

  “He’s not a firefighter if it makes a difference.”

  “Nope. No difference,” I tell her.

  “Kat, let it go,” Mark says.

  She ignores him. “He’s… I’m not sure what he does now. He had an engineering firm, sold it a couple years ago.”

  I frown at her as I push the tray her way.

  “Gary said he’s worth millions,” she singsongs.

  Mark shakes his head and walks to the other side of the bar.

  I nod toward her full tray, again.

  “Just think, if you two hit it off, no more waiting on obnoxious college kids.”

  “And no more you.”

  Her smile fades.

  “Kat, I know you mean well, but I’m not ready.”

  “He’s super nice and cute,” she continues to singsong.

  “Kat,” I warn.

  “I know your ex-husband… Well, I really don’t know him, but I know he was and probably still is an asshole. But not all guys are assholes.”

  “I happen to love assholes,” Mark says as he rejoins us.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, gay man.”

  He laughs.

  She slaps him on the side of the head with a bar towel.

  He holds his head. “Hey, that hurt.”

  “You’re not helping here. What kind of a friend are you? Don’t you want Bri to be happy?”

  “Of course I do. But if she says she’s not ready, she’s not ready.”

  She rolls her eyes at him, again.

  I nod toward her full tray, again. “The natives are getting restless.”

  She frowns my way before leaving with her tray.

  I fill an order and ring it up. Before I can give the guy his change, she’s back in my face. “That was fast.”

  “He’s a nice guy. I think you’ll like him. Hit it off.”

  “Kat, I know you mean well, but—”

  “No buts. One date wouldn’t kill you.”

  One date could kill me.

  Vik steps up and hands me her order. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I tell her as I bring it up.

  She pouts and says, “Come on. Tell me.”

  “I want to set Bri up with a friend of Gary’s.” She counts off his attributes on her fingers. “He’s a nice guy. Not a mama’s boy. Has money. No kids. Never been married. He’s not hard on the eyes. And he loves to kayak and hike.”

  “What guy?” Vik asks. “Do I know him?”

  “No, you don’t know him.”

  “Is he from Seattle?”

  “Portland,” Kat tells her.

  “I know lots of guys from Portland.”

  “Yes, Vik, you know tons of guys. But I doubt you know this guy. You’re not his type.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I watch as Kat struggles to get herself out of this one without throwing herself under the bitch bus.

  “He… he doesn’t date woman over thirty-five.”

  “You just made that up,” Vik tells her.

  “I did not.”

  Vik huffs and takes her order.

  “You so just made that up,” I tell her.

  “It’s the best I could come up with. I gave Vik up for Lent.”

  “You what?”

  “I didn’t want to give up drinking or smoking pot, so I went for being nice to Vik.” She pauses as if thinking. “You know what? It would have been easier to give up the pot.”

  Her food order comes up, and I put it on her tray. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

  “I’m not. I just like giving myself an additional reason for self-improvement.”

  All I can do is smile.

  “Double date?”

  I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”

  She sighs and hustles to her table.

  Mark stands next to me. “Why don’t you tell her to fuck off?”

  “I have.”

  “Tell her you’re only into gay guys. There’s just somethin’ about us.”

  “I told her I was a lesbian. That didn’t work. I even told her I was into necrophilia.”

  He chuckles. “
Well, girlfriend, if that didn’t work, I can’t help you,” he says and returns to his end of the bar.

  “I just don’t get you. And don’t give me that gay bullshit.”

  I look at Kat’s empty tray. “That was super fast.”

  “You and I haven’t finished our conversation.”

  “Kat, I know you mean well.”

  “I do mean well.” She pauses to think on her words, I’m guessing. “I know we’ve only known each other for a couple of months. And I know you have issues with guys. But I really like you, and you seem, I don’t know, sad, I guess. And lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely. I choose to be alone. A big difference.”

  “Super lame.”

  “Kat, please drop it.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. If you go out with this guy once, I promise”—she crosses her heart—“hope to die and all of that, to leave you be.”

  I lift a brow. “You promise?”

  She crosses herself. “God and the Holy Spirit as my witness.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath as I struggle to not throw myself under the bitch bus.

  “We could make it a group date. He could come with us on our paddle this weekend.”

  “Okay, he can come. But only as a friend with no expectations.”

  She gives me a triumphant smile.

  I hold out my hand. “Shake on it.”

  We shake hands.

  Vik walks up to the bar and hands me her order. She looks over at Kat. “What are you smiling about?”

  “Bri agreed to a group date this weekend with Tad.”

  “His name is, Tad? As in pole? I’ve changed my mind.”

  “No. You can’t. You promised,” she whines.

  “I didn’t promise. You promised.”

  “Come on, Bri. We shook on it.”

  I laugh. “I’m just kidding. I’ll paddle along with the Tad Pole.”

  “Is Ethan going?” Vik asks her.

  She frowns. “Gary didn’t say.”

  “If he does, can I go?”

  “You hate the water,” Kat tells her.

  “I would unhate it for a piece of that hot man flesh.”

  Kat’s frown deepens.

  “What?”

  “Get in line, sister,” Kat tells her.

  “A long line,” I add.

  “I’m already in line, sister,” Vik says as if it’s a good thing.

  Ethan Black is the new guy on Gary’s crew. He unsettles me to say the least. He’s an arrogant asshole to say more.

  I told myself it was because his type was one I knew all too well. LA was drowning in his type. He’s a too guy. Too good-looking, too self-assured, too promiscuous, too… everything. And underneath all that too much is generally too little. Too little intellect, too little compassion, too little courage.

  Our first encounter was one of those cliché moments you read about but never believe. It had been an unusually busy Tuesday night at the pub. I was working a double shift, feeling as if the night would never end, when I looked up and scanned the crowd from behind the bar. As I was scanning, he turned around and our eyes meet. At that moment, everything and everybody around him seemed to fade. It was as if I were looking through a tube or down a tunnel. It made me dizzy, and I had to hold onto the bar to steady myself. As we stared at each other, something wonderful and beautiful seemed to creep inside my heart. But when he smiled, the warm fuzzies vanished, replaced by something raw, heavy, and… I just don’t know. I’ve tried to define it, put it into words, but how can you describe something you’ve never felt? How can you put into words something you never knew existed?

  Panic soon replaced wonder, and my head began to spin as a steady stream of sweat ran down my spine, pooling above the waistband of my panties. I couldn’t look away as questions began to come at me like punches. Why is he looking at me like that? Punch. Why does he look familiar? Punch. Have we met? Punch. Does he know me, the real me, Morgan Steel? Punch.

  Each time I answered, it felt like a slap. I was a curiosity, someone new. Slap. No, we had never met. Slap. I could never forget a face like his, a body like that. Slap.

  He broke our connection when the woman he was with turned to see what he was looking at. She looked pissed and gave me a dirty look. He turned her around, pulled her into his chest, and whispered into her ear. Whatever he said made her laugh and forget all about me. Thank you. Thank you, I chanted to the woman over and over in my head, so grateful she intervened when she did. He’d never laid a hand on me, but I’d never felt so battered and broken.

  I didn’t know who or what this man was, but I knew he was more than a too guy. Ethan Black was a mystery, one I would never get close enough to solve. I didn’t need to remind myself of this when, two hours later, Gary officially introduced us. Feet away, the energy between us was like static, raising the hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck. When he sat at the bar and leaned toward me, I felt every punch and slap all over again. I felt abused to the point I had to concentrate to form words.

  I didn’t shake his hand as he reached out. I continued to dry the glass in my hand, one I’d been drying for some time.

  He smirked, in a too guy manner, dropped his hand, and placed it on the bar. “Not into shaking hands?”

  “Something like that.”

  The right side of his smile turned up, revealing a hidden dimple. “So, Brianna Richards, are you a natural redhead?”

  Asshole! “So, Ethan Black, are you a thirteen-year-old in a man’s body?”

  He laughed. Its geniality surprised me.

  A couple more firefighters joined him at the bar. I filled their pints and placed their food orders. Nothing more was said between us.

  When I got off work that night, I called Peter and told him about this new too guy.

  “I don’t like him. He looked at me.”

  He chuckled. “Everyone looks at you.”

  “Not the way he was looking at me.”

  He stopped midchuckle. “Did you recognize him? Does he know you?”

  “No. I’m positive we’ve never met.”

  “Give me all you have on him, and I’ll check him out.”

  “Go deep. I want dirt.”

  A week later, Peter called and told me Ethan was no angel, but he checked out. He grew up in Seattle and attended the University of Washington. He married his college girlfriend a couple of months after graduation. After the honeymoon, he went to work at his father-in-law’s advertising firm. A year later, his wife gave birth to a daughter. When his daughter turned two, he left the firm and filed for divorce. On the decree, it says irreconcilable differences, which could mean just about anything. His ex-wife has full custody of their daughter; he has no visitation rights and pays no child support. I found that interesting but not unusual.

  After his divorce, he moved to Portland where he took on odd jobs before going into firefighting. After graduating from the academy, he worked as a floater, filling in for vacations, maternity leave, sick leave, that sort of thing. When a full-time position opened up in Newport, he took it.

  Ethan has been to the pub a few times, never with the same woman. Gary said he was making up for his committed-relationship college years. But Ethan isn’t fooling me with he’s casual detachment from woman and the world in general. I know he’s playing a game just as I am. I just don’t know if he’s a pawn like me, or a king hiding behind his many queens.

  An hour later, the crowd around the bar is three rows deep. Working my end of the bar, I hadn’t noticed when Gary, Ethan, and a tall blond man sat down at the other end, until I heard Gary’s deep baritone calling me.

  I turn, wave, and go about my business.

  A few minutes later, Mark walks to my side. “You’re being summoned.”

  “What?”

  He nods toward a waving Gary.

  “Shit.”

  Mark laughs. “Go get it over with.”

  “Trader,” I tell him before I walk away.

  He laug
hs.

  “Hey,” I say to Gary and Ethan.

  “Hey, Bri,” Gary replies.

  “Hey, beautiful,” Ethan says.

  I ignore him, and he grins dimples deep.

  I mentally roll my eyes as I look toward the blond guy.

  “Bri,” Gary says, “this is Tad Emerson.”

  I plant a smile and reach for his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He takes my hand, turns it over, and kisses my palm. “When Gary said you were beautiful, he wasn’t exaggerating.”

  With smile still planted, I detach my hand from his. Then I covertly remove a wet towel from underneath the bar and pretend to wipe up a spill. I look at their almost full pints. “Looks like you guys are set. Can I get you anything else?”

  Gary reaches for his pint. “All’s good.” He looks around the pub. “Where’s Kat?”

  I point to her side of the pub. “Over there.”

  He nods. “Sure is busy tonight.”

  “Sure is.”

  Gary stands and looks toward the back of the pub. “It looks as if our usual table is being vacated. Send Kat our way with menus when she gets a minute.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Gary nods, turns, and makes his way toward the table.

  “It was nice to meet you, Bri,” Tad says.

  “You too,” I say and wave at his retreating back.

  Ethan downs his pint and pushes his empty toward me.

  “Another?”

  He nods.

  I fill another pint and set it in front of him.

  “Thanks, beautiful.”

  I frown as I add it to his tab.

  I fill several other orders while he watches. I don’t like when he watches me. His gaze feels like a caress and a punch. It confuses me, and I don’t like to be confused.

  A few minutes later, the barstools next to him are filled by women. Ethan is human steel and they are magnets. They couldn’t help themselves even if they tried.

  I tell myself I’m immune to his charm, but I’m not. I’ve woken up a hot mess in tangled sheets on more than one occasion after dreaming about him.

  He ignores the women next to him and continues to look my way. “Not into Tad?”

  “What?”

  “I saw you wipe your palm after he kissed it.”

  “I did not.”

  He chuckles. “Whatever, beautiful.”