I lower my beer when I realize where this train of thought has taken me.
It doesn't matter what I want or don't want for Ripley. All that matters is what she wants. And if she wants to run with this, I'll support her every step of the way and make sure she has every advantage.
15
Ripley
The crowd gets thicker as the night goes on, instead of thinning out like I hoped. I should be happy the tips are flowing, so I focus on that instead of the fact that my ankle is aching something fierce. Of course I forgot to grab some Advil to shove in my bag, and the first aid kit is out, so I'm gritting my teeth against the pain.
The bands booked for tonight weren't bad, but they also weren't great. Regardless, I've been thinking all night about what it would be like to be onstage instead of behind the bar. Standing up there gives you a completely different perspective. The crowd was so into the music, and when I let myself get sucked into the lyrics, it went so fast. Only a few minutes, but for each second, I was transported somewhere else. Away from the constant grind that has become my life.
Maybe everyone's right. Maybe this is my one shot, and I'd be a fool not to take it.
I move down the bar, taking orders and making drinks until I come face-to-face with my cousin.
"I'd order a double shot of revenge, but I hear that's best served cold." Brandy's tone carries a sharp edge of malice.
I wish I'd asked Boone what the hell had happened before I got out of the truck.
"You brought it on yourself."
The corners of her mouth turn down in a scowl. "You betrayed your own family. Who does that?"
I want to scream you do for all the times Brandy has screwed me over, but there are too many people watching for me to lose my shit.
"Say your piece and kindly leave. I'm working."
"Say my piece? Okay, I'll get right on that, Ripley." My name sounds like a curse on her lips. "How could you turn your back on the people who did so much for you? Me, your pop, my mom-"
Her twisted view of things makes me want to throw up. "Are you serious? Pop fired me and threw me out. You've been stealing from the bar. You're the reason I installed the stupid cameras to begin with. Then you sold me out to the media after one freaking night! And I haven't done a damn thing to your mom-"
Brandy laughs. "Wasn't my fault you weren't more careful with him. You're lucky I didn't do worse. Now I wish I'd taped all that grunting and moaning. I could've made a million off a sex tape. Easy."
Oh. My. God.
"You didn't," I breathe in horror, thinking what an absolute disaster that would be.
"No, but I should have. Now I've got no job, and they're saying if I can't pay the fine, they'll send me to jail for thirty days for filing a false report. This is all your fault!"
Her logic makes absolutely no sense to me, but then again, it never did. But one part surprises me.
"What do you mean, you don't have a job?"
"Fire marshal came back and shut us down for not taking care of the fire extinguishers and shit. Said it was a public safety issue and we didn't fix it fast enough. Mama argued with him every which way, but it didn't do any good. The Fishbowl is closed until further notice, and that's all your fault too."
I squeeze my eyes shut as a pang goes through me. I shouldn't care because it's part of my past now, but the Fishbowl has played such a big role in my life, so tied up with all my memories of my mama, it hurts to think of it being over.
Where will Earl and Pearl and Jim go? And when did Aunt Laurelyn get back?
And . . . shit. What about the ring I hid in the bar? How am I going to get that back to Boone?
Shit.
"Hey, I need a drink, if you're still workin', lady." A man waves a twenty in the air next to Brandy.
"Sorry, of course. What can I get you?"
"We're not done here. You can't just brush me off. You owe me. I need money. You should have to pay that fine, not us!" Brandy's voice rises over the din, and the customer backs away from the bar.
Great. Just great.
Hope steps up beside me and crosses her arms over her chest. "She doesn't owe you shit, Brandy, and you ain't getting a dime from her. Now, get the hell out of my bar before I have security drag you out."
"You're a dried-up old cunt, Hope. You two deserve each other."
Brandy shoves away from the bar and knocks over the drink of the person next to her-on purpose-before disappearing into the crowd.
Hope lays a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"
My hands tremble, but there's nothing I can do except lie and throw myself back into work. At least if I stay busy, I won't have time to think about any of this.