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"Look, man, I think you've had enough."
I glanced doubtfully across the bar at Taylor. "You think he's had enough? His pal
Jimmy's been holding him upright for the last half hour, Tails. He had enough before
the sun went down. Now he's just drowning in the excess."
"Come on, Diana! Be nice to me! You know I's your favorite customer..."
I smiled saccharinely
at the drunkard in front of me. "Not gonna work, Jason. I don't need a breathalyzer to know that you're way past the legal limit. Just hang here
and chill for a bit, okay? Throw a few quarters in that jukebox over there and
share some nachos with Jimmy."
Like a good drunk,
Jason's eyes widened at the thought of nachos. "Ooh, those sound good."
Taylor and I exchanged
a look, and I sucked in a deep breath. "I'll go back and get some.
Can you man the counter?"
Taylor winked at me and flipped a champagne bottle to entertain the newcomers that
had just appeared to our right. "What can I get you guys to drink?"
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and headed
into the kitchen area to assemble a plate of
nachos. Usually, we send orders to the waitresses, but when it gets closer to closing time, we prefer to fill the smaller orders ourselves. Besides, sometimes it's nice
to get a break from the regulars screaming for Taylor's cherry trick or a flashy
bottle toss.
Truth to tell, Taylor's a much more entertaining bartender than I am. Maybe she
went
to a flashier school than I did, but the girl can do just about anything. She
flips champagne, she ties cherry stems with her tongue, she juggles vodka, she makes card-style houses with bottles of Jack...
Essentially, her talents know no bounds. It's the only reason I leave
her alone out there. She's got a thousand and one ways to entertain
the drunks while I'm busy piling plates with nachos.
As a former waitress, I have no problem fixing food. Left to my own devices at the bar, however, I can only do the basic bottle flip once or twice before
I'm reduced to tucking multiple mini-bottles in my cleavage for the benefit of a few bored onlookers.
I'm not proud of it, but...a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
With a heavy sigh,
I bent down and fished the bag of Tostitos out of the cabinet. I
was
just beginning to fill a platter with the remaining tortilla wedges when my phone began singing "She Blinded Me With Science" from my back left pocket.
Taylor's talents know no bounds; my nerdiness
knows no bounds. I've had the ring for over a year,
and it still makes me smile every time I hear it.
"Diana Casseres," I deadpanned in what I hoped was a professional tone.
"You know, I hate to tell you this, chica,
but you're always going to be Bills Girl to
me."
I hated that the
sound of his raspy tenor voice brought a huge smile to my face. "Eh...there are worse things in the world."
"What, no hello? No 'hiya, Bucs boy, good to hear from you'? I'm hurt."
I rolled my eyes
in a vain attempt at annoyance. "First of all, answering the phone
with
'hello' isn't as professional and, secondly, I have never--nor will I ever--use 'hiya'
voluntarily in a conversation. My name is not Mr. Rogers."
He laughed on the other end, a raspy chuckle
that kept my smile firmly in place.
"Still full of sunshine, I see. Did I call
at a bad time?"
I
glanced down at the Tostitos and shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I'm at work, but I've got a few minutes to chat." Taylor could definitely keep the trashed twins entertained
for a few moments while I stalled the nacho production process. "What's up?"
"Not much," he sighed. "Busy day in the studio.
A few friends and I are laying down some
demos for the next solo CD while I wait for the Backstreet train to get up and chugging again. How about you?"
I'd be lying if I said that his inquiry didn't impress me. "I'm good."
"You said you were working, right? Are you
at the bar?"
I
frowned and began opening a can of refried beans with the manual opener. "Yeah...why?"
"Just curious," he chuckled. "I've been there once or twice since Taylor and AJ
hooked up. It always seems like a really cool place, but I can imagine that the drunk
people get old and demanding after awhile."
I was pleasantly surprised by his insight. "Sometimes, yeah."
"I'm surprised it's
not louder in there."
"I'm
in the back kitchen," I explained tersely. I didn't mean to be short with him, but his sudden need to focus the conversation on me was a little unsettling. As I dumped
the beans onto the chips, I decided to turn the tables. "What kinds of songs are you
working on?"
"Rock stuff," Nick answered with a smile in his voice. "The first album
had more of a rock-pop vibe, but we're trying to take it in a harder
direction this time around. All of the instruments are
live, too, so it's been really cool to get that kind of energy going. What're you doing in the kitchen?"
I blinked in surprise. He hadn't even paused for breath before the change in topic.
"Making nachos,"
I replied, relenting. "It's close to closing time, so everyone's completely hammered and in dire need of a few glasses of water and a cold shower.
Of course, they want to keep drinking and we need the money, so Taylor and I tend to
compromise by cutting their alcohol supply and offering food instead."
"That sounds like a good solution," he agreed.
"Isn't that the waitress's job, though?"
"If we wanted to, we could make the waitresses do it," I admitted, "but
nachos are an easy dish to fix, and the break from the noise is kind
of nice."
"I
bet," he chuckled. "Have you ever worked as a waitress before?"
"For a little while," I replied guardedly. The game of twenty questions
was starting to freak me out. "Do you play any instruments?"
He laughed. "You're
really not a Backstreet fan, are you?"
"Hey! We've been over this!"
"Yeah, yeah, you like 'I Want It That Way,'" he teased. "I'm going to have to send
you our last album, Bills girl. This lack of familiarity is starting to freak me out."
I arched an eyebrow
skeptically. "What, you think everyone should know and love
your
music?"
"Nah,
not everyone," he confessed with a giggle. "Just our friends."
"Your friends and a few million teenaged girls?"
I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
"Dude, I didn't choose our fan base. It kinda
chose us, and...that's cool, you know? I love our fans. They're loyal as hell, and...well, what guy doesn't want a hundred girls screaming at him?"
"The kind of guy who values his hearing?"
I offered jokingly. To my utmost surprise, he actually laughed.
"See, that's why
I like you, Bills girl. You've got a sense of humor."
I tried very hard to pretend like his compliment hadn't affected me. "You never
answered
my question. Do you play any instruments?"
"I play the guitar and the drums," he replied obediently. "I've been playing the
drums since I was fourteen, so I can keep a decent beat, but I've only been playing the
guitar for a few years, so I'm still learning how to tear it up like Hendrix. Why?
Do you play any instruments?"
"Cello," I answered automatically, carefully
pouring cheese and chilies over the
Mexican-style mixture.
"No way!" Nick cried
delightedly. "Dude! I didn't know you were musical. That's awesome! How long have you played cello? Do you own one?"
"Since I was really young, and yes," I laughed. "It's a rickety old instrument
that I
bought at an estate sale awhile back, but it's mine, and it works."
"That's so neat," he sighed. "I wish I played
a fancy instrument. I think I'd feel a lot smarter
if I knew how to play something like the cello."
"It's a really pretty instrument," I agreed quietly. It'd been ages since I'd thought
about
my cello.
"How
did you learn? Did you take lessons?"
"I joined the orchestra when I was younger and learned that way. When I got older,
I had private lessons with the orchestra director for awhile." I had to smile at the
thought of orchestra. "It was a lot of fun, playing with a group."
"I totally know
what you mean," he laughed. "I mean, singing solo is fun and all, but there's something about singing with the guys that makes it almost ten times more
rewarding. When you're doing something with a bunch of other musicians, and you're
all feeling the beat and hitting the notes, it's just an amazing feeling." He paused
for a moment, and I tried not to melt at the excitement in his voice. "I bet you're a good
cellist," he chuckled.
I arched an eyebrow doubtfully. "Oh? Why's that?"
"You're a scientist, right? By nature, you've got great attention to
detail. You're also hard to read, which makes
you a complex person, and complex people make the best musicians because they know how to communicate things in layers."
To say I was taken aback by the dead-on psychoanalysis would have been
an understatement.
"I had fun with it," I replied modestly. I wasn't sure what else to say. I was still
reeling from the effects of his rationalization. Truth to tell, he'd read me
like a book, and I'd never had anyone do that to me before. Not even Taylor.
"I'd love to hear
you play sometime," he continued lightly. "Do you still practice?"
"I haven't in awhile,"
I admitted. "Life gets in the way sometimes."
"Yeah," Nick agreed, "but I bet you're itching to play now."
He was right, and the fact that he knew me
so well already absolutely terrified me.
Thankfully, I was saved by Taylor's uncouth
entrance.
"Heads,
you know I love you, but it does not take twenty minutes to make a plate of nachos. I full support your need to ward off a headache in the face of closing time,
but this is bordering on ridiculous."
I looked up immediately, guilt etched across my exhausted features as I shoved the
plate into the microwave, and Taylor's eyes widened in shock.
"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were on the phone." She approached
me slowly, the back door banging shut behind her. "Who are you talking
to?"
I
almost corrected her preposition placement. After leaving her out with the drunks for half an hour, though, I knew I didn't have the right to harass her.
"Nick," I mouthed, listening to his laughter
on the other line. He had the most adorable laugh.
Seriously, men as
irresistible as the blonde Backstreet Boy should be outlawed. Their very existence is unfair to the female half of society. I mean, we haven't even achieved
that "equality in the workplace" thing yet. We can't afford to have beautiful Apollos
running rampant and distracting us from the worthwhile tasks at hand. That kind
of temptation is just cruel.
I bit my lip to avoid thinking about how
worthwhile Bucs boy could probably be.
Aross the room, Taylor's eyes widened even more before narrowing suspiciously in my direction. "I thought AJ told him not to call you..."
Thankfully, the
microwave beeped before I could formulate an appropriate response. On the other end, Nick chuckled. "It sounds like things are getting busy again. Do
I need to let you go?"
"Probably," I admitted sadly. "The nachos are done and they need my help up front
and..."
"Say
no more," he assured me. "Go ahead and get back to work, and drop me a line on your way home. I want to hear more about your sordid cellist past."
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, rock star. We
both know your ensemble stories could put mine to shame."
"Nah, you never
know until you share," he disagreed. "I'll talk to you later, Bills girl."
Before I could argue,
the line went dead. With a sigh of minor annoyance, I flipped my phone shut and whirled around to glare at Taylor.
"Nachos," I muttered, thrusting the plate into her waiting hands. "As
for the Backstreet Boy, it's none of your business."
After roughly five years of friendship, I
should know better than to use that line on
Taylor.
"Whatever," she
muttered, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "What did he have to say?"
"He said that he'd let me get back to work," I returned pointedly. "You should maybe
follow his example."
She rolled her eyes incredulously. "This from the girl who took thirty minutes to
make nachos. What are these, homemade chips?"
"I got distracted," I grumbled. "Not like it never happens to you."
"You got distracted
by a Backstreet Boy," Taylor pointed out.
"Again, not like it never happens to you."
"Touché," she retorted, a small smile playing on her face. "Come on,
Di, I want details. Alex told me what happened at that awards show."
It was my turn to
roll my eyes. I wasn't sure why it bothered me that AJ had told
Taylor
about the disaster of a date. It definitely should not have surprised me. AJ keeps secrets like Paris Hilton keeps her legs closed. And guys think women gossip...
"Public venue, Tails,"
I murmured as we exited the kitchen and re-entered the bar. "I'm not talking about this here."
"Suit yourself," Taylor agreed, "but don't think that I'm going to forget
to ask you
about this later. Remember, we both have to close tonight."
* * * *
*
True to her word, Taylor cornered me two hours later when the two of us were washing and drying the remainder of the
wine glasses. She waited until I was elbow-deep in soapy water, my fingers wrapped firmly around the stem of a glass and the
side of a sponge.
"So, about Nick..."
"Nolte?" I responded straight-faced. "I think he's amazing. I loved him
in Cape Fear."
Taylor arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm surprised you sat through Cape Fear."
"Are
you kidding? Robert DeNiro with tattoos and a southern accent?"
Taylor set down the glass she'd been drying and stared
pointedly at me. "Heads, he took a chunk of some woman's cheek off with his teeth."
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Some people are into that..."
Taylor heaved an exasperated sigh, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from smiling.
"Stop
trying to change the subject. Seriously, Heads, I thought it was the date from hell?" She shook her head in amazement. "Lord
knows it inspired the guilt trip from hell..."
"I was a little bitter," I admitted, blushing guiltily. "I'm not exactly
the biggest fan of Paris Hilton."
"Exactly. So why are you still taking calls from her ex-boyfriend?"
I sighed
heavily. I wasn't sure even I had an appropriate answer to that question. "He's..." I trailed off, trying to come up with
an adequate adjective. "Funny," I finished lamely. "He's funny."
Taylor leveled me with a doubtful look. "So is Robin
Williams, and you can see him every night without the emotional attachment."
"Yeah, but Robin Williams isn't calling
my cell phone," I answered pointedly. "He's off starring in creepy movies like One Hour Photo."
Taylor's
brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it with you and horror flicks tonight?"
I shrugged. "I have a chem test this week.
My brain is preaching doom and destruction."
"Are you going to have a snappy comeback for everything I ask you tonight?"
I opened my mouth to respond, and Taylor flinched. "Never mind. I already know the answer to that."
I smiled into the
sink.
"Seriously, though. I know you, Diana. If you're in the mood for something funny, you turn on a comedy special.
You don't voluntarily interact with men who have the possibility of hurting you."
I flinched. The girl had a point.
"I'm
not saying you shouldn't. I just don't understand why you're willing to put yourself in the line of fire for this one. Especially
after Alex made a point to keep you guys away from each other."
Rather than offer a serious, solemn, thoroughly prepared
explanation, I bought myself a little bit of time and answered her question with another question.
"Why did AJ tell
Nick not to call me back?"
Taylor glanced up from the glass she'd been drying with a look that was far too serious
for my liking. "Honestly?"
I gave Taylor a look of disbelief. "No, I want you to lie to me," I retorted sarcastically.
Taylor
rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You know, in some countries, people have serious conversations that aren't interrupted every
five minutes by unnecessary quips."
I mumbled an apology and went back to sponging the last dirty wine glass.
"Honestly,
Alex worries about you. I know he teases you mercilessly about all the
sexual favors, but he really does admire you for
your academic dedication. He also hates that there are men in the world that would treat a woman the way your clients do.
He thinks you deserve someone who can show you how good guys can be, and I do too. Both of us thought Nick could be
that guy, but the fact that he spent the whole evening turning you into his counselor made both of us wonder if he's stable
enough to be that guy right now." She heaved a sigh. "I know you, Heads, and the last thing you need or deserve is emotional
instability from a guy in which you're interested. And, much as you deny it, I know you were interested in Nick."
For
what might be the first time in the history of...well, ever, I didn't try to contradict her.
As my silence registered,
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back against the counter. "Look, Di, Nick's a nice guy. He's well-mannered, and
all of his years with Kevin have taught him to treat women with a great deal of respect. However, he's also been burned recently.
I know you know this, but Paris did a big number on him, and he's still kind of reeling from the effects." She glanced over
at me with a pointedly arched eyebrow. "The fact that he still won't talk about it with anyone says that much. He told Alex
that he really likes you, but that he knows that what he really needs right now is a friend. The way Alex tells it, Nick thought
you were perfect for the 'friend who nurses him back to mental health' job."
It was time to play hardball with Taylor.
With an apprehensive breath, I turned to face her, handing her the final wine glass as an excuse to look her in the eye. "What's
so bad about that? Isn't that what you were for AJ?"
Taylor smiled in concession. "Yes...but I don't have your past.
And remember, when AJ and I first became 'friends,' I wasn't attracted to him at all. He was just another customer."
I
dipped my chin doubtfully. "That might be debatable."
"Not really," Taylor admitted. "For the first few conversations,
AJ was just another drunk guy behind the counter."
"This could be the same kind of thing!"
"Right," Taylor snorted.
"Except that Nick wasn't drunk when you met him, and the conversations you've had have been extremely lucid. Look, Heads,
I know Nick. I know he's charming and funny and a lot more intelligent than people give him credit for. He cares about
his friends a lot, and he makes very good conversation, but he's also really broken right now, and I don't want you getting
yourself into a situation where he accidentally ends up screwing you over."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. He's still in
love with Paris, and he needs someone to whom he can pour his heart out, not someone whom he could love instead. I get that,
okay? And believe me, I don't think I'm the best person for the job. I actually think I might be the worst person for the
job, but he seems to disagree. It's not just a one-way conversation, either. He challenges me, and...and I kind of like that
he's starting to prove me wrong." I paused for a moment and leveled Taylor with the most meaningful look I could muster. "About
a lot of things," I added quietly, poignantly.
"I know," Taylor sighed. "I just...I worry about you, Heads. I know
how tough you are and I love you for it, but I also know how vulnerable you could let yourself be if you wanted to, and I
want to make sure you're going to be okay if he suddenly screws up and proves you right."
"He hasn't yet," I pointed
out.
"Yeah, but don't you wonder why you want to give him the benefit of the doubt? No offense, but you aren't
exactly that generous with the rest of the world."
I sighed. "He asked if we could be friends, Taylor. He asked if
we could be friends, and it was the most vulnerable, honest, disarming request anyone has ever made of me. He's everything
I'm not, right? Maybe I could learn something from him."
"Something you're not going to regurgitate on a test later?"
she teased, the corners of her mouth curving slightly.
"Cute," I muttered. "Seriously, he baffles me. He's, like, mister
heart-on-his-sleeve...and it doesn't seem to be an act."
Suddenly, Taylor started giggling beside me. I was almost
offended.
"What?"
"It's just funny," she chuckled.
"What's funny?"
"You really have absolutely
no faith in humanity, do you?"
"I do too!" I protested, only half-joking. "I have faith in you, and AJ, and..."
"And
Nick..."
I understood the challenge immediately.
"I don't know," I said quietly. "I guess we'll see."
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