Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(43)

“Sure.”

“Why do you walk away every time Reece comes up to the bar?”

She pulled off her huge glasses for what had to be the first time since I’d met her and wiped the lenses off with the hem of her tank top. Without the glasses, I got a good look at her face. The girl was literally as cute as a pile of kittens sleeping together. Tiny, pert nose and baby-doll-looking lips, paired with big brown eyes. Those bow-shaped lips pursed.

“I don’t serve him,” she said as she placed her glasses back on.

Before I could further explore that statement, the words “Calla-freaking-Fritz?” were shouted from the door of the bar. “You really are working here!”

What the?

I spun to where the sound traveled from, and at first I had no idea what I was seeing standing there.

It was a life-sized Barbie.

Kind of.

If Barbie had smaller boobs and dressed like a stripper.

The female prancing toward the bar was wearing some kind of skintight Lycra dress that covered her from her butt cheeks to her boobs, and nothing else. It looked like someone had taken a bedazzler to the dress. She was as sparkly as a disco ball on New Year’s Eve.

Her blond hair was blown out and large and as she hurried toward me on sky-high shoes that had see-through heels in them; her hair flowed like she was strutting down the runway.

As she got closer and her big smile spread, I started to see past the glitter on her cheekbones and eyelids. I recognized her.

“Katie?” I placed my hands on the bar, stunned.

“You recognized me!” She stopped and then did something in those heels that I’d break my neck doing. She jumped, bouncing as she clapped excitedly. “No one recognizes me!”

I could see how. Katie Barbara had been a quiet girl in high school. Some would’ve called her different. She’d always brought her lunch in a Hello Kitty lunchbox, straight through senior year. She always had her nose in a book and always wore floppy hats that at some point during the day a teacher always made her take off. I vaguely remembered her giving a speech in English class in the third person. Throughout school, her hair had been a multitude of colors—blond, brown, black, purple, and fire engine red. Pink had been a favorite, though, and still was, because now I could see that the ends of her hair were dipped pink, matching her dress.

“You do look . . . different,” I said, at a loss for what to say.

“Of course I do. I got one with my body.” She slid her hands down the sides of said body as she did a little shimmy. “Did a little makeover.”

Roxy giggled from somewhere behind me.

“You look great.” Disco ball dresses weren’t my thing, but Katie did look hot. Hot in a way that probably had guys doing stupid things just to get close to her. Very different from high school, and I wondered what our classmates thought of her now.

“You look the same. The scar has faded a lot. You can barely see it with makeup on,” Katie said, and Roxy sucked in a breath as Katie popped down on the empty seat in front of me.

I realized she hadn’t changed completely. She was still painfully blunt. Not rude. Just had no filter whatsoever. I smiled instead of letting the comment get to me, because I knew it wasn’t coming from a bad place. “Yeah.”

She popped her tan elbows on the bar and rested her chin in her palm. “I can’t believe you’re back in town, working at your mom’s bar. I thought you were off doing bigger and better things.”

Well, this was awkward. It was like the kid who partied so hard they failed at college coming home with their tail between their legs. “I’m here for the summer.”

“Visiting Mom of the Year?”

Roxy sucked in another sharp breath and whispered, “Daaammmn.”

Again, Katie was as blunt as my fingernail. “I was planning on it, but she hasn’t been around.”

“That’s probably a blessing in disguise, girl.” Her blue eyes rolled. “I think it’s cool you’re back.”

“Thanks.” I bit down on my lip as I glanced at Roxy. She was grinning at Katie. “So what have you been doing?”

Katie leaned back on the stool as she waved her hands around her body. “Um, what does it look like? Not working in an office.”

I thought she looked like she was a stripper, but if that wasn’t the case, then I really didn’t want to throw that out there.

“She works across the street,” Roxy explained, leaning against the counter. “At the club.”

Oh. Double oh. So she was a stripper.

Katie giggled as she batted thick and long lashes at me. “I absolutely love it.”

Triple oh.

“Let me tell you, most girls do. This whole you only strip because you have daddy issues?” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “I strip because dumbass guys pay me to flash some skin when they can get that shit for free at home, and I make damn good money doing it.”

Well, if she was happy doing it, then whatever. I smiled. “Sounds good.”

“But you?” Those lashes batted again. “Working at a bar? I didn’t think you drank at all,” she stated, her glossy pink lips turning down at the corners in confusion. “Have you ever been drunk?”

I didn’t get drunk. Well, because of Mom. I could feel Roxy’s eyes on me. “I will drink a beer or two, but I’ve never been drunk.”