Vanished: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance (5 page)

              “Can you just…give me some time?” I say, looking up, my eyes pleading with him. “We could talk tomorrow?”

              It takes him a moment, but he nods. “Okay.”             

              “Thank you.”

              “I love you, Mia. And I’m not going to stop fighting for you.”

              With that, he turns quickly and takes the steps down to the yard. I watch as he gets into his car, pulls out of the driveway and drives off. The breeze feels suddenly cold on my skin. I shut the door.

              I crash down on the couch, head in my hands, feeling terrible, but also feeling like a heavy load has been suddenly lifted. This is the right choice. I’ve made the right choice. But as I look around the apartment, I feel claustrophobic. I need to get out. I grab my cell and dial Gina.

              “Hey, Gina? Hey, yeah do you need an extra hand tonight? No, I know I’m not scheduled, I could just use the extra money, and I really need to get out of the house. Yeah? Okay, see you in ten.”

              I grab my keys, and with one quick glance at Joey’s statue, I’m out the door.

              Gina’s is the bar I’ve been working at for the last three years. It’s a bit of a dive, and I could make more money if I worked in Portsmouth, but it’s quite a commute, and I have my regulars here. It’s just more convenient. As I pull out, I see there’s quite a crowd tonight. There’s some sort of show going on out back, probably some local band trying to get their start. I park and hop out, skirting the crowd at the door to the employees-only entrance.

              The place is thick with sweat and smoke as I step inside and set my bag down. The music inside is blaring, and I can practically taste the beer in the air as I make my way to the bar. Gina’s there, as always, handling the swarm of customers all by herself.

              “Where’s your help?” I shout at her over the roar of the bar.

              “You know me, girl,” she says, popping a beer and sliding it to a big bear of a man with a long beard. “Always picking up the slack for other people.”

              “Isn’t Carrie on tonight?”
              “She bailed,” she says, pouring shots for a couple of bikers, probably stopping over on their way up from Boston. “Something about her friend having a breakdown or something. Who knows. Hey, grab a couple of beers for me, would ya?”

              I chuckle and pull a few bottles from the fridge behind her. I set them on the counter, grab a bottle opener, and as soon as I pop the top off the first one, I hear a voice directed at me.

              “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

              I look up to see a nice looking businessman smiling at me, obviously about to put his best moves on me.

              “You must not come in much then,” I say, popping the top off the last beer.

              “Got time for a break? I’ll buy you a drink.”

              “Thanks,” I say nicely. “But no thanks. Not a good night for me.”

              I give him a polite smile and head down the bar to take some more orders. This is just what I need. The roar of the music, the barrage of aimless chatter assaulting my ears. It’s busy enough that I’m always doing something, and it helps keep my mind off Ian…and Joey.

              I have to keep telling myself that what I did was for the best. I’ve seen so many people in this town get married when everyone knew they shouldn’t, and then end up living together for a while, maybe even having kids, and then waking up one day and realizing they’re not in love. I don’t want that to be me.

              Gina married her high school sweetheart, even though they fought all the time, and no one really thought they were right for each other. But they couldn’t stay away. They took countless breaks, broke up many times, but eventually ended up getting married. Rumor has it Gina’s brothers almost stepped in and had some sort of intervention, but they chickened out.

              And everything ended up crashing down around her. They argued non stop, fell out of love, and both started seeing other people, until they finally got divorced. She’d told me after that she knew she wasn’t in love with him when they got married, but she was so afraid of being without him that she couldn’t say no. Neither of them knew any differently, so they just went with it, and it ended up being the wrong decision.

              As I’m handing a couple their whiskeys, a drunk kid wearing a Patriots jersey crashes into the bar and spills his beer all over my top.

              “Oh, come on!” I shout, brushing beer off my arms and hands, trying my best not to let it ruin my shirt.

              “Hey!” I hear Gina yell to Derek the bouncer. “Get him out of here!”

              “Naw, I’m fine, man!” he protests, but Derek already has him by the arm and is taking him out the side door.

              “Be right back,” I tell Gina as I make my way to the back room. I always bring a spare shirt for reasons such as this. These are the kind of things you learn in my line of work. I strip out of my wet shirt and do my best to clean myself off with a rag. What a night. I slide into my fresh shirt and head back out there.

              A couple leaves, and I head over and pick up their bill. Ten dollar tip, that’s nice. I go to turn away, but something in the back of the room catches my eye. I peer through the crowd for a better view, but a new couple moves up to the bar in front of me.

              “Hey, could we get two vodka tonics?” the guy says to me, flashing me a charming try-hard smile.

              “Yeah, sure…” I say, standing on my tip toes to get a look over him. But the crowd is too thick, and I can’t see. I turn around to make his drinks and I look casually up at the mirror above the bar.

              Then I see it.

              The reflection…a man in the back.

             
It couldn’t be…could it?

              My mind is just playing tricks on me. It’s been a hard night already, and I’m stressed out and probably just going slightly bonkers. I calm myself down, reminding myself that I’m here to take my mind
off
things, not make them worse. But just as I finish mixing the drinks for the guy at the bar, and I’m ready to turn around, I see him.

              There, just behind the pool tables, sitting at the corner table…

              It’s Joey.

              I drop the glasses and feel the drinks splash all over my feet. I whirl around, but I can’t see him from here, so I step up onto one of the shelves behind the bar so I can get above the crowd. I peer through the bobbing heads and smoky air, and there he is.

              It’s definitely Joey, sitting in the shadows, trying not to be noticed.

             
Does he see me? He has to see me…

              He has his head down, obviously trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. His hair is much longer now, and he has a short beard. He looks somehow worn, like the last six years have been hard on him. But I can’t see his eyes. They’re hidden in shadow behind the lamp hanging above his table.              

              I feel like I’m going to throw up.

              This
isn’t
happening.

              This can’t be happening. I feel like I’ve entered a dream world. After all that’s already happened tonight, this is just too much. What is he doing here? Why isn’t he over here right now, talking to me?              

              Six years of feelings I’d tried to suppress come swarming back over me, and I feel like I might pass out. My legs start to feel soft, so I step down and brace myself against the bar, my head spinning, the roar of the crowd suddenly feeling like fists pounding my skull. I need a drink.

              Feeling weak, I turn to the bar and grab a shot glass. I slam it down and grab the Tequila bottle. I fill it completely and toss it back, feeling it burn as it goes down. Instantly, I fill another glass and knock it back, hoping it will do something to dull the feelings now storming inside me. I don’t even bother chasing them with anything. Somehow the burning in my throat helps distract me from the reality of what’s going on.

              I’m usually not a big drinker, and I can’t even remember the last time I ate today, so these should start working soon. The stuff is like a fire burning inside me, warming me from the inside out. Taking a moment, I brace myself against the back wall, trying to get my breath.

              But the bar is overflowing with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. If my heart pounds any harder, my chest might explode like that guy in that movie with the alien. I can almost feel his eyes on my back, watching me from his little alcove at the back of the room. Why is he here?!

              I feel the anger growing inside me. All these years I’ve been trying to put him out of my mind, trying to convince myself he’s not coming back so I can move on. I tried to have real relationships, but they never worked out. I turn down a man’s proposal, holding on to some stupid hope that the man I love will return and sweep me off my feet, and now here he is, and he won’t even talk to me.

              The back door almost breaks as I boot it open and step out into the cold night, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air, the dull roar of the bar fading into the background as I pace around the parking lot.

              “Hey, baby.” I hear a voice behind me. I whirl around to face the person, but it’s only Brad, drunk off his ass as usual. It turns out, Mr. Star Hockey Player didn’t amount to much after high school. Our team won the state championship, but Brad didn’t get the big college sports scholarship he was hoping for. He ended up coaching some and then working at a store in town that sold used sports gear.

              It wasn’t long before he was hitting the bottle and he and his friends were being a general nuisance around town. They’re mostly harmless, and the girls who work here and I have learned to ignore them when they get too obnoxious.

              “Go away, Brad,” I say, turning my back on him. “You’re drunk.”

              “Yeah, baby! It’s Friday night, come on!”

              He saunters up to me, beer in hand, dancing awkwardly to the music from the show going on out back. I know he still resents me for turning him down all those years ago, and he just can’t let it go. Some people are just stuck in the past. Well…I guess I’m not one to talk, am I?

              He stinks, and I can smell his b.o. as he gets closer. I hear him take a big swig of his beer.

              “What do you say? How about a dance?”

              He slides an arm around my waist and I just snap.

              “Ugh, get away from me!” I spin around and shove him off me, hearing him crash to the ground as I tear the door open and head back inside. I make my way back behind the bar and do another shot. The first two are starting to have an effect, and the night’s starting to feel like something I can handle. I turn around and look back to Joey’s booth, but he’s not there.

              My heart skips a beat, and I scan the crowd, searching for him. But the place is packed, and I can’t find him anymore.

              “Hey, can I get a couple beers, babe,” Johnny, the owner of the local body shop, says to me with a smile. He has this older guy crush on me that he knows I don’t reciprocate, but he likes to flirt. Normally it’s not a big deal, but right now I’m not in the mood.

              “No! No you can’t, Johnny!” I shout at him. He looks shocked, then frowns at me as I move down the bar to look for Joey. I get up on my tippy toes for a better look, and then finally, I spot him. Head down, pushing through the bodies. He’s on his way out.

              He’s just going to
leave
?! He’s going to sit there staring at me and
leave
?!

              I feel the anger rising inside me. My fists clench at my side and my heartbeat goes into overdrive. Unable to control myself, I race out from behind the bar, almost knocking Gina over on the way, and start pushing my way through the crowd.

              “Excuse me! Can I get through here?!” I shout aimlessly at the people in my way. It hasn’t been this packed in here for weeks. It’s so bad it’s almost claustrophobic, and I feel like time is running out for me, like if I don’t see him now I’ll lose my chance.

              Finally I reach the door, but he’s already gone. I shoulder the door open, feeling suddenly light headed, my throat still on fire from the shots. I burst outside and see him walking away.

              “Hey!” I scream at him. He stops, frozen in place. “You’re just gonna leave?!”

              He doesn’t move for a long time. I feel the contents of my stomach swirling, and it’s not just the alcohol. Finally he turns around. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t prepare me for what I see.

              Joey’s face. Right there in front of me, clear and plain in the pale moonlight. Those mysterious eyes piercing through me just like six years ago. And then he smiles…that smile.

              “Joey…”

              “Hey, Mia,” he says.

              I almost hate him. I hate that he’s smiling at me. I hate how good he looks. I hate that he looks completely unaffected by this. He’s taller than he used to be, and his shoulders are more broad. He has a hint of stubble on his face and a head of messy dark hair that he obviously doesn’t maintain but is still devastatingly sexy. It’s the same as before; Joey doesn’t look like he belongs in this town, in this world, but it’s the rest of the world that needs to change, not him.

              “What—“ I cough, my throat so dry I can barely speak. “What are you doing here?!”

              I don’t know what else to ask. There’s so much to say, and I’m freaking out, but he seems so cool, so composed, just like always. My palms start to sweat, and I want to wipe them against my jeans, but I’m paralyzed. I can just feel myself unraveling before him. How can this be?

              It’s obvious I’ve missed him more than he missed me. He doesn’t look the least bit excited or worked up. He just stands there, a look on his face I can’t read. I feel like I’m going to explode if he doesn’t do something, say something. Just when I think I can’t bare the silence any longer, he speaks.