14.🍸 Whiskey Sour 2.0

**KEKE**

Another week passes with Justice seemingly indifferent towards me as ever. That doesn’t stop me from entertaining nightly visions of he and I in a mass of tangled limbs on the floor.
On the couch.
On the kitchen table.
All hopeless flights of fancy.
Justice and I speak about work, the boys, and nothing else. I tried a few times to ask him about his cars and other businesses. All I received were “back off” looks and monosyllabic answers.
I stopped asking.
Unfortunately, I haven’t stopped wanting.
During the day, I keep my thoughts and feelings for him hidden by taking care of the kids and working hard. On our nightly walk to the apartment, we’re mostly silent.
That’s okay.
At the end of the day, I’m so tired, all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep.
My favorite time.
I love going to bed and closing my eyes. I don’t have to pretend then. Only there can I freely dream about the brawny man who fills my thoughts.
But not now. I need to get back to work.
I pick up a towel and start to rub down the bar. Sullenly, I wish I were anywhere else. My wound is throbbing, my feet are pinched in the news sneakers I have yet to break in, and the jukebox is playing some techno noise that’s grating on my nerves.
*At least the guys have fun plans.*
This evening, dinner for the kids is courtesy of Mrs. Nilsson, our across-the-hall neighbor who smells of rose water and is smaller than a twelve-year-old girl. She’s invited the kids over for a pizza party and a game of Rummikub. It uses domino like tiles players have to arrange in a sequenced order.
The first time I met Mrs. Nilsson, I thought she was sweet...until she challenged the kids and me to the game she played when she was young. Once I saw her setting up those tiles, I knew the gloves had come off. And damn if she didn’t thoroughly destroy us.
To be honest, I’d rather be sitting down, losing my ass to a senior Rummikub shark instead of at the bar. I’m so rushed off my feet, not even the sight of Justice makes me feel better.
Justice gave Sam two days off to celebrate his partner’s birthday. I’m selfish enough to wish he hadn’t. Since ten in the morning, I haven’t been able to do anything except stay busy. I swear, in all the years I’ve tended bar, I can’t remember pouring so many drinks.
And those damn peanuts.
I’ve slung two sacks from the storage room and will probably have to bring in two more before the evening ends.
I let out a long sigh, cutting it off when Justice comes over, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. Straightening from my slumped posture, I do my best to stop the flutter of butterflies in my stomach and the smile that widens my mouth.
Noting my look, Justice removes his hand to rake it through his hair. The gesture doesn’t mesh well with the stoic look on his face. “Keke, I need to take a call in my office. Can you bring this over to Joe?” He hands me a pint of dark lager and our fingers brush.
And not for the first time tonight.
I know I’m a big girl with plenty of ass, but there’s room enough behind the bar to where he doesn’t have to whisper behind me, so close we might as well bump.
Thump.
Hump.
I’m crazy for putting too much stock in it.
Justice, as he has ever since I started, has smiled at every woman who has ordered a drink from him, but nothing I could call suggestive. Nothing to lead them, or me, into thinking his friendliness is anything more than harmless.
It’s only when he talks to her, that Pippa, does his tone... change. It morphs from its usual gruff into something more... ethereal, like music from another dimension.
“He should like this brand, but if not, I have a few lagers he can try under the bar.” Without waiting for my reply, Justice leaves.
And I watch him, like an idiot. The ache in my heart overpowering the one in my thigh.
*Get a grip, Keke, and let him go.*
I repeat this mantra in my head as I walk over to Joe, chastising myself over and over to get the message to sink in.
Joe Volkov is a wiry man with buzzed blond hair and a florid, kind-looking face. He breaks off his conversation with Matt, another regular, to greet me. “Thanks, Keke,” Joe says, lifting his glass to sample his libation. Wiping the foam from his lips, he says, “This is a good one. Did Justice recommend it?”
Joe likes to come in most weekdays for a lager after work. He claims he needs to relax and unwind before going home to his wife and four teenaged boys.
“Yes, he did.” I pick up a towel and start to wipe up the bar. “He said there are more if you want to try them.”
“Just the one will do,” Joe says after a long sip. “Wouldn’t do to go home wasted. I won’t be able to stop all the fights between the kids... or those I get into with my wife.”
I laugh, and Joe gives me a fake grimace before joining in.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten to know Joe. He’s a pretty funny guy. Despite the jokes he makes about his home life, he’s devoted to his family. There’s no mistaking the pride in his eyes when he talks about them. I’ve learned so much about the kids, his wife, and his brother, I feel like I’ve known them forever.
“Too bad my brother Nico isn’t here to see what Justice has done with the place,” Joe says after another healthy swig of lager.
Confusion knits my brow until Joe winks at me. Smiling, I shake my head at his flirting on behalf of his brother whom he is always trying to upsell. I haven’t met the guy yet. Nico’s job at the IRS has him traveling a lot. According to Joe, his work keeps him from meeting the perfect girl.
Joe seems to think I could be a candidate.
“Seriously, Keke, I know Nico would love to meet you. He’s away at a training, but he’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring him in then.”
I’m prevented from answering as a woman with a wad of cash in her hand spouts off orders in a thick Jersey accent. By the time I’m finished with her and the five others behind her, Justice is back, and Joe has left.
I wish I could have talked Joe out of setting me up with his brother. Normally, I brush off all flirtation with a firm “no.”
Except for Justice, I’m not interested in being with anyone.