spent an entire evening using furniture scratch cover-up to make it look decent. She’d been high as a kite by the time she finished thanks to the fact she forgot to open a window, but from a distance, her furnishings were quite nice for her small, moss-covered cottage in the woods.
When Michelle suggested a bar instead, Bailey inwardly groaned, but she had made Michelle miss the parade, so she ended up nodding, wondering just how much worse her afternoon of being a normal twenty-seven-year-old could get. She found out quickly it could definitely get worse.
He picked up his glare right where he’d left off at the parade the moment she and Michelle walked through the doors to the dingy old bar just on the edge of town. It was a watering hole type of joint, and Darren was playing a round of pool on the old retro seventies pool table. She watched as his lips mouthed, “What the fuck” at seeing her, and his expression was cold and pissed. Bailey recognized the two guys he was shooting pool with, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. Didn’t really matter. The moment they followed Darren’s glare to Bailey, their brows arched in that “oh, shit” sorta way.
Michelle sat at the end of the bar, only just taking in Darren and the other two guys at the pool table. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath before standing and walking over to them. Bailey stayed planted on her barstool, refusing to even look up. There was just no escaping him in this town, and he seemed to be everywhere. Bailey glanced up once to see Michelle speaking with the group of three, but only the two nameless men were actually looking at her. Darren’s eyes were glued to Bailey.
“Hey, let’s get a booth in the back.” Michelle was suddenly standing by Bailey’s side, looking expectantly at her. Darren had returned to his game, though his attention seemed to be constantly pulled toward her as though he was just as powerless to look away from her as she was to look away from him.
“Or we could just leave, Michelle.” Bailey knew she’d never go for that one, but she couldn’t help but hope.
“Come on. Just pretend he doesn’t exist, okay? For one night. You won’t even have to look at him in the back room. Please?”
“You think this is about my wanting to be away from him , but it’s not. Do you think for one second he wants me here? ’Cause I’m tellin’ ya, he doesn’t.”
“He didn’t say a thing to me when I was over there—”
“That’s ’cause he was busy glaring at me! That’s what he does. He hates me; he glares at me; he destroys my job; he glares at me some more.”
“Well, he can’t glare at you if you’re sittin’ in a booth in the back room. ’Sides, this place is gonna fill up after the parade gets over. You won’t be able to find him even if you want to in a while.”
She was right. Soon there was a flood of parade goers walking through the doors, decked out in their green—their ridiculous plastic green hats, green beads, green just about anything. But even the green people of Savoy weren’t enough to save her. In fact, they ended up being the catalyst for her misery.
“Aren’t you that girl?” Bailey looked up to the woman standing beside the booth she and Michelle were hiding in.
“Umm . . . I don’t—”
“You are! You’re her!” The sneer on her face meant she wasn’t asking if she was that girl who once broke the Savoy high school record when she swam the 200 freestyle. Nor was she asking if she was the girl who won the literary award for creative writing when she was only a sophomore in high school. She was asking a far more loaded question than that. Bailey had the odd reaction of looking behind her at the back of the booth she was sitting in—as though perhaps hopping over the back and bolting might be a good option.
Instead, she turned back slowly to the woman standing with her hand on her hip and the other holding a green beer in her hand. The
When Michelle suggested a bar instead, Bailey inwardly groaned, but she had made Michelle miss the parade, so she ended up nodding, wondering just how much worse her afternoon of being a normal twenty-seven-year-old could get. She found out quickly it could definitely get worse.
He picked up his glare right where he’d left off at the parade the moment she and Michelle walked through the doors to the dingy old bar just on the edge of town. It was a watering hole type of joint, and Darren was playing a round of pool on the old retro seventies pool table. She watched as his lips mouthed, “What the fuck” at seeing her, and his expression was cold and pissed. Bailey recognized the two guys he was shooting pool with, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. Didn’t really matter. The moment they followed Darren’s glare to Bailey, their brows arched in that “oh, shit” sorta way.
Michelle sat at the end of the bar, only just taking in Darren and the other two guys at the pool table. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath before standing and walking over to them. Bailey stayed planted on her barstool, refusing to even look up. There was just no escaping him in this town, and he seemed to be everywhere. Bailey glanced up once to see Michelle speaking with the group of three, but only the two nameless men were actually looking at her. Darren’s eyes were glued to Bailey.
“Hey, let’s get a booth in the back.” Michelle was suddenly standing by Bailey’s side, looking expectantly at her. Darren had returned to his game, though his attention seemed to be constantly pulled toward her as though he was just as powerless to look away from her as she was to look away from him.
“Or we could just leave, Michelle.” Bailey knew she’d never go for that one, but she couldn’t help but hope.
“Come on. Just pretend he doesn’t exist, okay? For one night. You won’t even have to look at him in the back room. Please?”
“You think this is about my wanting to be away from him , but it’s not. Do you think for one second he wants me here? ’Cause I’m tellin’ ya, he doesn’t.”
“He didn’t say a thing to me when I was over there—”
“That’s ’cause he was busy glaring at me! That’s what he does. He hates me; he glares at me; he destroys my job; he glares at me some more.”
“Well, he can’t glare at you if you’re sittin’ in a booth in the back room. ’Sides, this place is gonna fill up after the parade gets over. You won’t be able to find him even if you want to in a while.”
She was right. Soon there was a flood of parade goers walking through the doors, decked out in their green—their ridiculous plastic green hats, green beads, green just about anything. But even the green people of Savoy weren’t enough to save her. In fact, they ended up being the catalyst for her misery.
“Aren’t you that girl?” Bailey looked up to the woman standing beside the booth she and Michelle were hiding in.
“Umm . . . I don’t—”
“You are! You’re her!” The sneer on her face meant she wasn’t asking if she was that girl who once broke the Savoy high school record when she swam the 200 freestyle. Nor was she asking if she was the girl who won the literary award for creative writing when she was only a sophomore in high school. She was asking a far more loaded question than that. Bailey had the odd reaction of looking behind her at the back of the booth she was sitting in—as though perhaps hopping over the back and bolting might be a good option.
Instead, she turned back slowly to the woman standing with her hand on her hip and the other holding a green beer in her hand. The
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