“Erm…yeah, thanks,” I mumble in reply.
He heads through a door marked “Staff Only” while I stand wondering if I really want to work here. I look around the room, taking in the large screen television mounted on the wall in the corner showing an old baseball game. There is a pool table along the back wall and dark wood tables littered haphazardly around the room with what look like the world's most uncomfortable wooden chairs. It's not as upscale as my previous job, but I can’t afford to be picky right now.
A sports bar like this usually attracts a mostly male customer base, but as long as they keep their hands to themselves, I’ll be fine. A job is a job. I’m certainly not in a position to complain.
“Here you go. Bring your identification, bank details, and whatnot tonight, and I’ll get you on the books. You’ll get paid at the end of each week and whatever tips you earn are yours to keep. Sound good?” Colin rattles off as he walks back through the door with a couple of T-shirts in his hand.
“Yes. And thank you. This is perfect,” I tell him, taking the shirts when he offers them to me.
He laughs at that. “We’ll see if you still think that tonight at closing. Be here at 7:00 p.m. and don't be late,” he replies dismissively as he smiles at an approaching customer.
I don't hang around. I walk out onto the street, feeling relieved that I won’t have to mooch off Delia and Tig for much longer, now that I’ll have a regular paycheck coming in. Making my way back to Tig’s, my relief at finding a job so quickly wanes when I see a familiar figure sitting on the floor in the hallway beside the front door once more.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper.
I’m so not ready to do this with him, but like with everything else, Asher just does what Asher wants. He sits there watching me approach, proving he couldn’t care less about what I want.
Well, if he thinks he can sweet talk me, he is out of his freaking mind.
Thirty-Two
Asher
I finally tracked her down to Tig’s, but the asshole wouldn't let me in to see her. Even so, I refused to leave. I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep until a pissed off Delia started shaking my arm telling me Linda had gone out and she didn’t know when she would be back.
I went home and grabbed a shower and forced myself to eat something, which ended up tasting like sawdust, before returning to wait for her to get back from wherever she’d gone.
I haven’t been here long before I hear the staccato noise of heels tap-tap-tapping over concrete as they draw closer to me. Lifting my head, my eyes clash with her angry blue ones.
“What are you doing here?” she spits out angrily before I can speak.
“I came to see you.”
“Well, I’m sorry you've wasted your time.” She steps around me and fumbles with her key in the lock. I wrap my hand around hers, freezing her movements before she yanks it away as if my touch burned her.
“Don’t touch me.” The anger is still clear in her voice, but beneath it, I can hear the hurt I caused, even as she tries to hide it from me.
“Please, Skittle, let me explain.” She whirls on me, poking my chest with her finger.
“I’m not your Skittle. Fuck, I’m not your anything. I’m certainly not your wife. You, Asher, are a liar and a user. I don’t want to see you again unless it’s to serve me with divorce papers,” she yells with tears running down her cheeks. Then she somehow manages to get the door open and shut herself inside while I stand there, reeling from her words.
I lean my head against the wood and plead with her. “I’m sorry, Skittle. I swear to god, the second I laid eyes on you behind the bar that day, my whole plan changed. I knew right at that moment that I wanted to keep you forever. Please, baby, give me a chance to explain,” I beg.
I hear a thump, which sounds like her banging her head against the opposite side of the door before she answers. “Please just go. If you ever loved me, even just a little bit, you’d leave,” she whispers on a sob.
“I’d give you anything, Skittle, but I can’t give you that,” I tell her honestly.
She doesn’t answer, and after ten minutes, I know she isn’t going to.
I sit in the same spot I did before, leaning my head back against the wall and close my eyes. How did I let everything spin so far out of control?
I must drift off again because the next thing I know, I’m being nudged awake less than gently by Tig’s giant foot.
“I usually like to keep the garbage on the curb,” he informs me with a scowl.
“I’m not leaving.”
“I could call the police and have you removed,” he says with a smug smile that I want to smack off his face.
“You could, but I’d just come back,” I reply in earnest.
He sighs and the smugness leaves his face as he looks toward the closed door.
“Look, the longer you stay out here, the longer she stays in there. She needs space to lick her wounds. You fucked up. This is the price you pay.” He holds up his hand to shut me up as I try to speak. “I’m not saying give up. I’m saying be smart. Sitting outside my door like the loser you are won’t win you any brownie points. How badly did you fuck up?”
“She didn’t tell you?” I ask, surprised.
“No, she didn’t really talk much at all. Just asked if she could crash here for a few nights.”
“I fucked up big,” I admit, not sugar-coating it.
“Then the apology needs to be bigger. Don’t say it, show it. This,” he waves at me, “is not showing it.” He turns and enters his apartment, leaving me to ponder what he said.
Fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but he’s right. I look at the door and sigh. As much as I don't want to leave, it's time to come up with a new plan of action. I call Davis and have him take me back to the penthouse, where I spend the rest of the day fielding calls and making plans. By the time I’m done, it's dark outside and my stomach is yelling for food.
I order some Chinese food, then decide to order food for Linda too, and get all her favorites delivered to Tig’s place. I send her a text, not surprised when I don't hear back from her and toss my phone onto the sofa only to rush back over to it when it rings.
Unfortunately, it's my father, not Linda. I let it go to voicemail, but he just calls again and again until I give in and answer. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here, Dad,” I tell him, frustrated.
“Charming,” he answers dryly. “I’m calling to invite you to dinner. Melody would like to meet you.” I shake my head, really not wanting to get into this right now.
Hell, if he had asked me what his wife's name was before he mentioned her, I wouldn’t have been able to give it.
“I have a lot going on at the moment, Dad. I’ll let you know when I’m free,” I lie easily.
He sighs like I’m the biggest pain in his ass. “Family is important, son. The sooner you figure that out, the better.”
My back goes straight at his words, my free hand fisting at my side. “You don’t need to tell me that. I know how important family is, and it's not because I learned it from you. It's because of my wife, a wife who at this moment in time doesn’t like me very much.”