Page 1 of Good For Me

River

The girl on the other side of the bar is batting her eyelashes at me, and I can’t look away.

Not because I find the eyelash batting attractive, mind you, but because I’m trying to figure out how, exactly, she manages to blink at all with the weight of those things on her eyelids.

Are eyelashes supposed to be that thick? Or…crumbly looking? Because these things are dotted with black chunks and they’re practically long enough to touch her nose when she closes her eyes.

They also remind me of something, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“My friends and I are allsohappy you’re working tonight,” she coos.Blink, blink, blink.“You’re definitely our favorite bartender.”Giggle. Blink, blink.

Spiders,I think, failing to suppress a shudder. That’s what those things on her eyes remind me of. Big, long-legged, black spiders.

I freaking hate spiders.

“Riv,” one of the waitresses calls, snapping me out of my slightly horrified trance. “I need three Moscow mules.”

“Got it,” I shout. I give spider-eye girl a smile and a wink—terrifying makeup or not, I do have a reputation to uphold—then slide down the bar to get started on the drinks for Kim.

“Hey, are we out of Stella?” Brad, the other bartender, asks.

“I think there’s a case in the store room.”

He frowns. “I looked. Didn’t see it.”

Translation:The storeroom creeps me out and I’m a little bitch who can’t deal.

I slide the copper glasses to him. “You finish these for Kim, I’ll get the Stella.”

His relieved expression tells me I’m right. “Thanks, man.”

I try to slide past Kim on my way to the back hallway and she stops me with a sharp jab of her finger to my chest. “Where are my drinks?”

I point back to our co-worker. “Brad is making them. I’m grabbing something from the storeroom.”

Her eyes narrow. “You better not be meeting that blond chick back there. I saw the way she was eye-fucking you.” Another jab of her finger. “No banging customers when we’re slammed, Riv.”

I snort. “I most definitely am not meeting anyone back there.” I imagine what the face spiders might look like up close if I was making out with that chick and shudder again. “Besides, her eyelashes freak me out. She keeps blinking at me and all I can see is tarantulas wiggling around her eyes.”

Kim barks out a laugh. “Go get the beer Brad is too afraid to look for and get back here before he screws up half my orders.”

I spread my arms wide as I walk backwards down the hallway, grinning at her. “I’m glad you’re finally recognizing how indispensable I am to your life, baby.”

She rolls her eyes, but she still looks amused. “And I’m glad to see your ego is as healthy as ever.”

It takes me about three seconds to find the case of Stella. Brad is still juicing limes for the mules when I get back to the bar, Kim shooting him death glares for his glacial pace as she fills her tray with pints of IPA. I smirk to myself. This place really would fall apart without me.

I get back to work making drinks and flirting with customers. Kim wasn’t exaggerating about how slammed we are. Friday night at Davie’s Pub is always like this, which means it’s my favorite night to work. The tips are great, but it’s more than that. There are few things I love better than the energy of a packed bar on the weekend. The noise and excitement. The flirting girls. The bursts of laughter. The music. The general sense of a good time that permeates around the room.

There’s nothing like it.

Until the music from the jukebox changes, shifting from an old Red Hot Chili Peppers tune to a much more modern song. A very familiar modern song. Sung by a very familiar voice.

I suppress a sigh as roughly half of the female patrons—and a few of the guys, too—look my way.

What exactly do they expect me to do? Get all excited about a song that I’ve heard approximately a million times? Jump up onto the bar and start singing? Open a secret door to reveal my father in all his glory?

Ding, ding, ding,I think bitterly.That’s the one.