Drive(14)

“I hope it was memorable.”

Unable to not flirt with Nathan Butler, I lifted my eyes. “It could have been better.”

A sinful smiled crossed his lips. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

I paused at the door. “I really wish I had something epic to say right about now, but I’ve got nothing. Don’t take this out on Sierra. Don’t fire her, okay? I forced my way in here.”

“You didn’t force anything. I let it happen. And I won’t fire her. She’s my cousin.”

“Oh.”

Standing at the door, I felt the full disappointment. The first being a piece of my dream had been stripped, and the second was I wanted to see Nate Butler again. He was easily the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. But the first outweighed the latter. No matter how well prepared I was for the rejection, it still stung. But it was a crapshoot from the start.

Nate stood and splayed his fingers on his desk. “Even though your writing is a little indulgent for someone completely unknown and whose opinions don’t matter, you really have something. You should know that.”

“I do.”

He gave me another flash of teeth. “Good, stay confident. You’ll need that.”

“As much good as it did me. Thanks again.” I walked out of Austin Speak jobless, but I still had twenty bucks and a kickass T-shirt.





Bittersweet Symphony

The Verve



After hours of walking up and down 6th Street, Austin’s famous strip filled with endless clubs, and filling out applications, I’d decided I’d earned a beer at the very least. Paige’s shift would end soon, and I didn’t want to use her money, but I’d failed my mission. I was still jobless, and I needed to numb the sting. The kicker to applying for a job at every place on 6th Street was that I couldn’t use my fake ID there in the immediate future. I ended up retracing my steps back toward Speak and found a bar called Louie’s around the corner. A flash thunderstorm had drenched me to the point of no return, and Samuel was pissed. And so was I. Pissed and disheartened, I finally let my shitty mood win. I sat down at the bar and tossed my ID that read Juanita Sanchez. She was my cousin and was only a year older than me. Her hair and skin were far darker, and she had brown eyes, but the ID had never been called into question. Ever. “I’ll take whatever draft you have for happy hour.”

“This one is on me.” Only a small part of me was happy about the fact that the man who just crushed my hopes had just bought me my consolation beer. Still, I couldn’t help the little dance my insides agreed to on their own accord at the sound of his voice.

“Mr. Butler, thank you.”

“Nate.”

“Nate. Thank you.”

“I really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, reminding me he knew my age.

“Well, then don’t.” I set the twenty on the bar, and he pushed it toward me.

“Be nice. I’m trying here.”

“Sorry,” I said as I took the money away and put it in my pocket. I felt like a wet dog as he looked down at me with something close to pity.

He stood close enough for inspection, so I finally let my eyes appraise him while he unbuttoned his jacket, hooked it on the bar chair, and dusted his glistening hair before he took the stool next to mine. I could see the outline of his undershirt beneath his damp, starched shirt, and under that nuisance of material, I saw a sculpted man. He was intensely beautiful, blunt, and a little cocky. But the half of me that was Latina knew I had already won the second he sat down.

He may have been arrogant, but I’d been battling machismo my whole life. I had more cousins my age than I knew what to do with, and I learned their tricks early. Which really did make me a dumbass for going after a toddler in a band called Meat.

Nate took a long pull of his beer. “No luck anywhere else?”

“Yeah, I can bus tables if I so desire. Pure progress.”

“Ouch, sorry.”

“It’s just one day,” I said, taking a long tug of beer. “There are more. And I’ll bus tables if I must. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“Wrong. You want to work your way up from the bottom, but you don’t want to dig to get there. I think we know you’re capable of doing more.”

“But indulgent and unimportant. You might want to find better company, fair warning,” I said as I drained my beer and lifted my finger for another.

“I’m good here. And I think you know what I meant.”

I looked around the dark bar. There were exactly five people in it including Nate, the bartender, and me. “This doesn’t strike me as your type of place.”

“It’s close, quiet, convenient.”

“Deserted.”

He redirected, “What are you doing here?”

It was a loaded question. “Waiting.”

“On?”

“My sister. She’s working a few blocks away at The Plate Bar.” I chuckled to myself as he furrowed his brows at me. The question on my tongue, I took a sip of my fresh beer and asked what was on the forefront of my mind the second I entered his office.

“How did you get there? You can’t be more than twenty-four?”

“Twenty-six, and it’s my paper. You obviously didn’t do much homework.”