Too Broken(15)

Tom and Wilson have spent a great deal of time flirting with me. I'm  still exhausted and the ego boost these two give me always makes me feel  better.

"Kelli, you look so ravishing tonight there is only one thing that could  make you look better," Tom says, daring me to take the bait.

"Oh, and what's that?" I play along.

"A pearl necklace  …  made especially for you, by me," he said with a sinister gleam in his eye.

"PIG!" I shout and flick my rag at him. Seriously, the man has no grace.

Wilson, on the other hand, ever the gentleman, comes to my rescue.

"A beauty like yours needs no adornment, Kelli," he says endearingly.

I swing by, placing a kiss on his cheek, and Tom huffs, "Whatever,  Romeo!" Turning to the others he asks, "Who the hell talks like that?"

"Seriously," says Ian, shaking his head and looking slightly annoyed.  That look gives me a little thrill. Is he jealous of Wilson? In my  dreams.

"Mock him all you want," I sing, "but I'd put money on him getting laid  before any of you clowns! And if I have to do it myself to win that bet,  so be it!"

Whistles and cat calls erupt from the crew. Tom throws up his hands in  mock defeat, and Wilson leans back, arms crossed behind his head looking  smugger than I thought him capable of looking. Sweet, sweet Wilson. In  the looks department he didn't hold a candle to Tom, but his flattery  held just the right amount of sincerity, while Tom's was calculated,  designed to get a woman into bed. Definitely not my type. Then again,  there was only one man in this bar I had any interest in, and he had  busied himself in the kitchen, effectively ignoring us all.

"Hey," I say, suddenly struck by something. "How is it you all know each other? I realize I've never asked."

"We've all slept with Abby, of course," Jaye says.

"And of course they bonded over the brilliance of the experience," Abby crows.

"We formed a support group to try and help each other past the trauma of  the event," Jaye offers with a straight face. This gets a laugh from  the crew.                       
       
           



       

"Ha ha ha," Abby bites out. Turning to me, she says," Alright, you may  need to take notes, but I'll try and break it down for you.

First, Jaye and I used to work together, just down the street. I still work there, but Jaye's over in Culver City now."

"But I live just a few blocks away," Jaye throws in. "It really sucks  going from zero commute to 30 minutes, but the job's great, so I deal."

"Anyway," Abby says, returning the attention to her, "Jaye and I decided  to join one of those singles recreational groups  –  Vavi or whatever it  is. We signed up for beach volleyball and the courts are just down the  street. After the games, we'd get our drink on.

One day we played against Tom and Wilson's team and they wanted to join  us for drinks. Tom had slept with the Saturday bartender of the place we  normally went  –  surprise, surprise  –  so Jaye suggested we head here."

"I'd been in a time or two. I like bars I can walk home from," Jaye  explains. "And I knew the bartenders were dudes, so I figured we'd be  safe."

"Ian is a very pretty man though," I can't help but tease.

"Not pretty enough to tempt me," Tom says.

"You say that, but I haven't been able to get you out of my pub ever  since!" Ian says, having returned from the kitchen unnoticed. "I'm not  really complaining though, you keep my Saturday afternoon sales up,  that's for damn sure."

Abby continues, "It became a routine to head here after the games, but  not too long after we started, Jaye met his woman and dropped the sports  club. The rest of us pretty quickly came to the conclusion that we  hated beach volleyball and were really only playing so we could drink  afterwards. We decided to cut out the middle man and head straight to  the drinking. Jaye's woman works weekends, so he was able to still hang  out with us."

"And Ben?" I ask.

"He was just here," Jaye says with a laugh.

Ben raises his pint in response.

"Ben and I actually went to UCLA together. It took us about four months  to realize it, but we had even done a play together," Abby says.

"We had both blocked the memory," Ben quips.

"I'm sure your audience members did as well," Tom says, and everyone laughs.

"What play?" I ask.

"The Merchant of Venice," Ben responds.

"I love Shakespeare," I say enthusiastically.

Ben looks mildly interested. "What's your favorite play?"

"Well, it depends on the genre. I can't pick just one," I reply.

"It's always a qualified answer with you. Favorite position, it depends. Favorite play, it depends," Tom mumbles.

Abby, Ben and I launch into the merits of Shakespeare's various plays  while Jaye, Tom and Wilson discuss the Dodgers post-season chances.  Closing time rolls around, and Hal and I kick the crew out, grabbing  Wilson and Abby's phones to connect them with Uber rides, and watching  Jaye, Ben, and Tom sway down the street. We make quick work of wiping  down the bar and booths, and are prepping to mop when Ian emerges from  the office.

"You two can hit it. Hal, walk her home?" he asks. "Thanks for  everything, see you tomorrow," he says as he retreats back to the  office.

Hal grabs his stuff, then looks at me expectantly.

"Go ahead  –  I want to talk to Ian," I say to Hal, who quickly leaves  through the back. Hearing the door close, Ian returns to the kitchen. He  looks startled when he sees me.

"I thought you went home," he says.

"I told Hal to go along without me," I say.

He blinks at me for a moment and then begins prepping the left over stew  without a word. He portions the stew into plastic bags and tapes  plastic spoons to them. He'll put these into the fridge, along with any  leftover rolls, and spend an hour tomorrow morning hand delivering them  to the homeless in Anderson Park. I know this because Pappy told me; Ian  would never offer up such information.

He finally looks up and catches me staring. I think he's gotten used to  it - catching me staring at him. He rarely reacts anymore, even though  he probably finds me doing it about 20 times a shift.

"You going to stand there and stare, or would you care to make yourself  useful?" he asks, nodding his head towards his one-man assembly line.

"Hmm, tough choice," I say as a small blush tints my cheeks, but I make my way to his side, picking up the tape and a spoon.

We work in companionable silence for a few minutes, focusing on the task  at hand. Although my chore is merely taping a spoon to a bag, I'm  finding it difficult to accomplish with his body so near. He smells  incredible - faded aftershave, the tang of spilled spirits, and a hint  of sweat. I'm quite certain that on a different man I'd find the scent  repugnant, as I'm very sensitive to smells. On him, it reminds me of  getting drunk, taking a shower, and having hot sweaty sex. Yeah, on him,  I could smell it all day, and even better, all night.                       
       
           



       

"You were quite the little flirt tonight," he said, shooting me a sly  side smile that makes my heart palpitate. "I wouldn't be surprised if  Wilson shows up with a ring next week," he laughs quietly.

"Ha ha ha, yeah, right." I laugh back, shaking my head at the absurdity of the thought.

"I joke, but you should be careful, Kelli," he says.

"Why? What do you mean? Be careful of what? Wilson?" I ask, truly perplexed.

"Of leading Wilson on," he replies seriously. "I know you think it's all  fun and games, but you are a beautiful woman," he pauses a moment,  contemplating how to continue. "You make a man feel like he's the only  guy in the room when you smile at him. It's powerful. Someone like  Wilson, well, he could easily convince himself your flirting was based  on true affection. I'm sure it'd be wishful thinking, but a guy couldn't  blame him for living in that fantasy world."

I'm taken aback, and I turn and stare at him, mouth gaping. He just said  I was beautiful. He just admitted that he felt special when I smiled at  him. Right? That's what just happened?

What …  how …  what's my next move? My brain is screaming at me to not screw this up.

I decide it's now or never.

"I don't think Wilson will confuse my flirting for anything more. Pretty  much anyone who enters the pub can see that I only have eyes for you," I  confess and then hold my breath.

Holy crap! I just did that! Shit!

He stills, and then turns to bring the now empty stew pot to the sink  behind us. I turn to watch him as he fills it with water. A minute has  passed and he has neither spoken nor looked at me. Yep, guess I fucked  this up. Go me!