Lauren Blakely - Night After Night

But there it was – in his sent messages, mocking his traitorous heart.

Julia brushed some sugar crystals along the rim of a martini glass, and handed her signature cocktail to a woman in a standard, boring, black business suit who’d wandered in a few minutes ago rolling a large black case on wheels – the kind that was usually full of pharmaceuticals. Julia guessed she was a sales rep for one of the big drug companies and had been pitching docs all day with little success. The woman, quite simply, looked worn down.

She sighed heavily, resting her chin in her palm. Julia felt for her, without even knowing her woes. Life could be a cruel mistress. Sometimes the days wrung you dry. The nights did too, those lonely nights when all she wanted was a note, a moment, a sweet reminder that she wasn’t woman against the world, tackling everything solo.

“Enjoy,” Julia said, sliding the purple snow globe in front of the woman. “I hope it makes the day a little better.”

The woman flashed a smile. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“This one is my specialty, but if it doesn’t fit the bill, you let me know and I’ll mix up something else for you instead.”

The woman took her first sip, and her tired eyes lit up. Julia swore a switch had been flipped and they’d gone from muted to bright blue. “This is divine.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, and for now, this was enough to make Julia’s shit week a bit better. She might not have won her game, she might have lost her man, but at least she could do one thing right – mix a drink, and lift the spirits temporarily of the weary.

She moved to the tap, filling a pale ale for a regular customer, a skinny guy who always stopped by after work. She liked him; he’d never once tried to hit on her. He was only here for the drinks. “The usual,” she said, handing him the glass. He doffed an imaginary hat, and took his first swallow. She gathered up tips from other patrons and returned to the register, tucking some bills in the drawer.

“Can I pretty please have your most special, awesomest diet coke?”

Julia grinned widely, and turned around to see her favorite person ever. Her sister McKenna, decked out in a vintage emerald green dress with a white petticoat peeking out from the skirt’s hem. On her shoulders she wore a faux white fur cape – 100% pure retro fashionista. Next to her was her fiancé Chris, wearing a plaid button-down and jeans, dress-up attire for the most casual California surfer guy that he was. They were the happiest couple she knew, and yet another reason why Julia was never going to burst their bubble of bliss with her troubles. Seeing her sister happy was a singular joy, and she’d go to the ends of the earth to protect her sister’s heart from any more hurt.

“Always for you,” Julia said and leaned across the bar to give her big sister a hug. “And hello handsome,” she said to Chris, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Hey, Julia. How’s business tonight?”

“Always good at Cubic Z,” she said, beaming and glad for the chance to talk about the bar business. She was proud of her tiny little patch of land in SoMa; yet another reason why she desperately wanted to get out from under Charlie’s thumb. She didn’t want him to take over this place. The thought of him running his illegal operations from her bar, threatening other patsies with his knife that wasn’t dangerous in and of itself, but symbolized all he could do, made her stomach restless. He could turn it to rubble too, leaving her, Kim and Kim’s family high and dry. The thought curled her stomach. She poured McKenna a Diet Coke, then asked Chris for his poison.

“Whatever’s on tap,” he said, and she winced inside at the words. Granted, she heard that phrase a few times a night, but it reminded her of Clay, of what he’d said the first night they met here. After she handed Chris his glass, she looked from McKenna to her man and back. “What’s up with the fancy attire? You going to a ball or something?”

Chris smiled and shook his head. “Nope, but my network is having some shindig to celebrate our record-high ratings, so this is me dressing up,” he said, fingering the collar of his shirt.

“You clean up mighty fine,” she said, and once again her mind wandered back to Clay, to how delicious he looked in everything and nothing. She loved his sharp style, his power ties and crisp shirts, the cuffs and how he rolled them up revealing those forearms, so thick and strong.

A sharp pang of longing lodged in her chest. She wasn’t only yearning for his arms; she was longing for the whole man, inside and out, from the way he held her to how he talked to her. He always wanted to know more about her, and she felt one hundred percent the same about him. He fascinated her, with his mix of down and dirty, loving and tender. Though it seemed insane to miss someone she’d only spent a few nights with, she’d never met anyone like him who captivated her mind and her body.

She shook her head, as if she could shake off thoughts of him. She reached for the tap to pour a beer for another customer.

“Speaking of record ratings,” McKenna began in that voice that hinted at something up her sleeve, “Chris is about to renegotiate his contract, and is looking for a new lawyer, so I was thinking about your guy…”

Julia’s hand froze on the tap and the beer started to overflow the glass.

Your guy . Oh, how she wanted him to be her guy , and all that title allowed – the nights, the days, the moments, the tangling up in each other’s arms.

“Oh crap,” she said when she realized the liquid had frothed over. Grabbing a towel, she wiped down the side of the glass, cleaned it up and handed it to a customer.

“What do you think about that?” McKenna asked when she returned.

“He’s pretty kickass at his job, right?” Chris said, chiming in. “I was talking to my sister the other day and she said he’s worked out all kinds of perks for Davis.”

Julia straightened her spine. “I don’t have any business dealings with him, but from what I’ve heard his clients rave about him.”

“Can you do an intro or something? Or do you want us to ask Jill to ask Davis?” McKenna asked, then something flashed in her eyes. Realization, maybe. Julia had been home from her trip for more than ten days and hadn’t said much about it to McKenna, other than a few texts that it went well, and she was home and busy, busy, busy. She hadn’t told her sister that she’d bolted. Her sister leaned across the bar and narrowed her eyes. “Are you still into him?”

She was about to fashion an answer when she heard a customer call out. “Oh excuse me!” The woman in the suit waggled her fingers.

Julia walked over to her. “How was it?”

The woman tapped the glass. “Never had anything like it. It’s amazing.”

“I’m so glad you liked it.”

“Listen. I have a friend – his name is Glen Mills – whose magazine is running a search for the best cocktail ever,” the woman continued. “I’m going to tell him about this.”

“That’d be nice of you,” she said, though she knew patrons said stuff like this all the time, so she didn’t put any stock in it. No more, at least, than simple pride in a job well done.

“What’s your name?”

“Julia,” she told her, as the woman handed her a twenty.

“Keep the change, Julia.”

Then she left, rolling her bag on the way out, only this time her pace was upbeat and energetic. Julia returned to her sister, eager to avoid any more talk of Clay. She didn’t need to feel that empty ache for him all evening, especially since she was sure to feel it all night long alone in her bed. “Hey, it’s about to get crowded here.”