Confess(15)

“It’s okay,” I say.

She stands up and glances toward the bathroom. She’s about to suggest that it’s time to change her clothes and go home. I’m scared if she does that, I’ll never see her again.

We have the same middle name. That could be fate, you know.

“I have a tradition,” I tell her. I’m lying, but she seems like the type of girl who wouldn’t want to break a guy’s tradition. “My best friend is the bartender across the street. I always go have a drink with him after my showings are over. I want you to come with me.”

She glances at the bathroom once more. Based on her hesitation, I can only conclude that either she doesn’t frequent bars or she’s just not sure if she wants to go to one with me.

“They also serve food,” I say, attempting to downplay the fact that I just asked her to a bar for a drink. “Appetizers mostly, but they’re pretty good and I’m starving.”

She must be hungry because her eyes light up when I mention appetizers. “Do they have cheese sticks?” she asks.

I’m not sure if they have cheese sticks, but I’ll say anything at this point just to spend a few more minutes with her. “The best in town.”

Again, her expression is hesitant. She glances down at the phone in her hands and then looks back up at me. “I . . .” She bites her bottom lip, embarrassed. “I should probably call my roommate first. Just to let her know where I am. I’m usually home by now.”

“Of course.”

She looks down at her phone and dials a number. She waits for the other person to pick up.

“Hey,” she says into the phone. “It’s me.” She smiles at me reassuringly. “I’ll be late tonight, I’m having drinks with someone.” She pauses for a second and then looks up at me with a twisted expression. “Um . . . yeah, I guess. He’s right here.”

She holds the phone out toward me. “She wants to talk to you.”

I step toward her and take the phone.

“Hello?”

“What’s your name?” a girl on the other end of the line says.

“Owen Gentry.”

“Where are you taking my roommate?”

She’s grilling me in a monotone, authoritative voice. “To Harrison’s Bar.”

“What time will she be home?”

“I don’t know. A couple of hours from now, maybe?” I look to Auburn for confirmation, but she just shrugs her shoulders.

“Take care of her,” she says. “I’m giving her a secret phrase to use if she needs to call me for help. And if she doesn’t call me at midnight to let me know she’s home safe, I’m calling the police and reporting her murder.”

“Um . . . okay,” I say with a laugh.

“Let me talk to Auburn again,” she says.

I hand the phone back to Auburn, a little more nervous than before. I can tell by the confused expression on her face that she’s hearing about the secret-phrase rule for the first time. I’m guessing either she and this roommate haven’t been living together for very long, or Auburn never goes out.

“What?!” Auburn says into the phone. “What kind of secret phrase is ‘pencil dick’?”

She slaps her hand over her mouth and says, “Sorry,” after accidentally blurting it out. She’s quiet for a bit and then her face contorts into confusion. “Seriously? Why can’t you choose normal words, like raisin or rainbow?” She shakes her head with a quiet laugh. “Okay. I’ll call you at midnight.”

She ends the call and smiles. “Emory. She’s a little strange.”

I nod, agreeing with the strange part. She points to the bathroom. “Can I change first?”

I tell her to go ahead, relieved that she’ll be back in the clothes I found her in. When she disappears into the bathroom, I pull out my phone to text Harrison.

Me: I’m coming for a drink. Do you serve cheese sticks?

Harrison: Nope.

Me: Do me a favor. When I order cheese sticks, don’t say you don’t serve them. Just say you ran out.

Harrison: Okay. Random request, but whatever.





CHAPTER THREE



Auburn

Life is strange.

I have no idea how I went from working at the salon this morning, to an appointment at a law office this afternoon, to working at an art studio tonight, to walking into a bar for the first time in my life.