PART
One
Prologue
October 31, 2015
Afew stray hairshad escaped my braid and were sticking to the back of my neck. I hummed in annoyance as I flicked them away, accidentally brushing elbows with one of three Princess Elsas in the room. Even with the ancient AC cranking valiantly in the window, the heat in the bar had risen to just a few degrees below the surface of the sun. Sweaty bodies slid against me as I maneuvered through the crowd.
Ugh. That better be an arm.
I desperately needed to wipe away the hastily drawn whiskers melting down my cheeks. It was going to be rough making it until closing. Watching customers drink and flirt drained me on my best nights—and that was without disguises and props and inexplicably sexy Sponge Bobs.
Zach had texted this morning to remind me staff costumes were mandatory, clarifying that “harried bartender” didn’t count. I’d very elegantly flipped off my phone when that message came through, wondering how he’d guessed my plan. But I knew how stressed he’d been lately, and since he was my best friend, I forgave him for forcing me to play dress-up.
After tugging on a black full-body leotard I used for running in cold weather, I’d swung by the nearest drugstore, intent on finding something to make it costume-worthy. Since it was Halloween night, options were slim. I’d grabbed a black eyeliner pencil and a headband with furry ears. The finished product was ambiguous. The whiskers said “kitty,” but the circular ears were more “teddy bear.” Whatever.
At nine o’clock, I finally grabbed a bar towel and wiped my face. This smeared the pencil marks but decreased the likelihood I would sweat into someone’s drink. At least the customers looked like they were having fun, hopefully in the mood to tip well. Fanning my overheated body with a menu, I resigned myself to dealing with the discomfort.
But as I handed over a drink to a pony-tailed Indiana Jones, I noticed some customers giving me side-eye. A quick check in the mirror behind the bar revealed that my makeup looked beyond terrible. There wasn’t enough left to appear as though I was attempting a real costume—it just looked like I had a dirty face. Shaking my hands in the universalcome heremotion beneath the counter, I tried letting Zach know I had to go to the restroom to clean my “whiskers” off properly.
“Zach! Hey, Zach!” Stupid Zach. Making me figure out a stupid costume.
But the customers were relentless and I couldn’t catch his eye. We were already down a bartender since one had quit two weeks ago, and Zach had been killing himself every night since. I felt slightly guilty because I’d cut back my shifts, focusing on my schedule-friendly coffee shop gig. I was glad I’d agreed to sub tonight since Zach could never have gotten through it without an extra set of hands. This was the busiest he’d been in months, possibly years.
Annoyed as I was, I had to admit it had been genius of Zach to advertise Hal’s as a costumed Halloween party for the night. All we’d had to do was put up a bunch of orange and purple string lights and charge an insane amount at the door, as well as offer one-night-only cocktails of Vampire’s Blood—sangria with plastic novelty teeth floating in it—and Ghostly Apparition—white Russian with a color-changing electric ice cube. It was a win for Zach, who had bought the bar earlier this year after being its star employee for a decade.
But my face makeup fiasco was of imminent concern. I didn’t want looking like I’d just crawled out of a dumpster to affect my tips. Tuition was due soon. Still failing to catch Zach’s eye, I looked up to find the next best option taking a seat on the stool in front of me.
“Busy tonight.” Zach’s live-in boyfriend, Teddy, exuded elegant calm.
I pounced. “Teddy! Thank God you’re here! I need you to tell your man to come over to my side of the bar so I can get a break.”
Teddy raised an eyebrow. “He’s like thirty feet away. Can’t you just ask him?”
“I swear I’ve tried, but we’ve been slammed. He can’t even hear me when I’m right behind him. I just need two seconds to wipe my fucking face.”
“Oh, doll.” He tsked at me as he realized my dilemma, and as luck would have it, his pin-striped gangster costume came with a white pocket square, which he dipped in a glass of water and used to mop up around my scowl. I checked his handiwork in the mirror. There was still some smeariness, but it would have to do.
Teddy got up from his stool a few minutes later, immediately replaced by someone else needing an elaborate cocktail or twelve. Couldn’t anyone just order a beer anymore?
Around eleven, Zach finally came over to check on me. Of course, his Jack Sparrow costume was in perfect order, including flawless black eyeliner, still evenly applied.
“Teddy said you needed me.”
“Dude, that was like two hours ago. I just wanted to use the restroom since my makeup was sweating off my skull.”
“Yeah, I see there’s something going on here.” He raised a hand toward my face and made a circular motion with his wrist. “Good God, woman, haven’t you heard of setting spray?”
“I know. I warned you I wasn’t a Halloween person. Or a makeup person. On the upside, it doesn’t seem to be affecting my tips, or the number of customers asking for my number. Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong and the reason I’m single is that I haven’t been streaking my face with finger paint.”
Zach chuckled, but then eyed me seriously. “Sadie, don’t come at me with that bullshit. You and I both know that you arenotsingle. It’s just a fun story you tell yourself because you’re afraid of what your heart wants.” At that, the traitorous organ constricted powerfully in my chest. The pain must have been apparent because Zach relented. “Don’t worry, doll, I’m not going to force you to talk about you-know-who.” He winked and added, “Besides, I’d guess the number of customers hitting on you has nothing to do with your face and everything to do with how fantastic you look in that catsuit. All that running…meow.”
I smiled, grateful he’d left the messy subject of my love life in favor of my jogging routine. Zach knew better than anyone that me getting back into running these past few years had been more mental therapy than exercise, but it was a nice bonus that my clearer state of mind had resulted in a much higher ass.
“Okay, go away now, Zach. You were too late to save me. Let’s just make it through last call.”
Closing the bartook a lot longer than usual. It was almost three a.m. when I finally coaxed the last mermaid and Super Mario outside. After shutting the door behind them, I leaned against it. I needed to start sweeping and wiping down tables, but I just wanted a minute. I felt every one of my thirty-five years as I closed my eyes and tried to will away the fatigue. Zach had said goodbye to Teddy an hour ago and was in the back office taking care of the registers, retreating after I caught him making some mysterious Twitter posts he wouldn’t let me see. I rallied to get started cleaning so we would have a chance of being home before dawn—especially since I’d already told him I’d come back at noon to pull the Sunday shift.
