AN: Let me know what you think. Enjoy!
Three
Grey was at the far end of the bar going through his invoices. He was crossing 'I's and dotting his 't's to make sure he had everything in order. He was meticulous because he didn't want the bar to fail in its first year over something stupid like a missed comma or decimal in the finances, or a skimped order.
When people came and went, he'd glance up. He was perfectly positioned so that he could see everything, which meant he noticed Des when she arrived for her shift. He did a double-take because, as any normal person would, he expected her to arrive wearing what she had earlier in the day. He expected to see her wearing jeans, a black shirt beneath an oversized men's button-up, and a jacket. He expected her to look like Dex, basically. What walked through the door was not the typical Portland-Casual.
Her hair was still tied up in a messy bun, but her entire outfit was black –black leather-like pants, black boots, and a black tank top that hung loosely off her shoulders. He could even see hints of a black lace bra that peeked out from beneath the wide, open arm holes of her top. A bevy of necklaces hung around her neck and reached the middle of her chest, and a hint of silver in her nose rounded out her jewelry. He couldn't remember seeing a nose ring before.
When her eyes landed on Grey, she smiled and approached him.
"Hi," She smiled.
"Hey," He looked her over again and wasn't certain he managed to remove his surprise. "You ready for your shift?"
The stupid question was forced, but Grey felt compelled to add something beyond the greeting. Des didn't reply on it, however. She simply smiled.
Grey decided to move on as though nothing had happened. He told her she could put her things away in the back, but Des informed him that she left everything but her keys and phone in the car. He nodded, and after a short conversation, Des went to work.
It was almost midnight and Grey knew he should either go home, or at least leave the bar, but he didn't. While he did have a bit of work to finish, he moved through it slowly on purpose. He wanted to keep an eye on Des. He wanted to see how she interacted with the customers, how efficiently she worked, and how quickly she picked up on things like the layout of his bar, and the prices. The bartenders were his face, the thing customers saw when they bought drinks, so he was overly cautious about new hires.
She seemed to be doing well, slipping into the way of things with relative ease, but one thing bothered him. Bartenders flirted with customers. That was simply how it went. It was all to garner larger tips, and to get the customer to buy more alcohol. One thing they weren't supposed to do was drink.
Before she started, Grey was sure to tell Des that, along with how tips were distributed, but it didn't seem to matter. From his spot at the end of the bar, Grey watched as Des, smiling wide and happy, poured a middle-aged man a shot and then one for herself. He watched them toast and her down the liquid before she promptly chased it with a beer. That was the third time. Once, Grey could forgive, maybe even twice, but three was deliberate and now he ran the risk of her becoming too drunk to do her job. He knew he had to intervene.
Grey stood and called Des over. She finished taking the money for the drinks, put it in the register, and met him. She still beamed and smiled at him.
"Yeah?" She asked in a bubbly tone.
"You can't keep drinking on the job." He told her bluntly. Des's smile began to falter. "If you're gonna keep it up, I'll have to send you home."
He must have sounded more judging than he meant, but he couldn't help it. That was simply how Grey's "boss voice" sounded, but Des clearly didn't appreciate it.
"I'm not." She said plainly.
Grey took a deep breath and sighed. He didn't want to be a dick to Dex's little sister, but he may have to be.
"I just saw you take a shot and chase it with a beer."
She scoffed and shook her head. "You saw me take a shot and spit it back out into an empty beer bottle." Grey's brows creased curiously. "Someone offers to buy you a shot and you say no, chances are they'll shut down, maybe buy one more drink, then that's it. Someone offers a shot and you take it, they get more comfortable and spend even more money, not to mention they usually tip." Within the blue of her eyes, Grey saw something that looked strangely like disappointment, but he couldn't tell if it was in him, or the situation. "I know how to do my job."
And with that, she returned to it.
Grey chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about the brief interaction. She wasn't wrong. Flat-out refusal of anything tended to turn people off, which made them spend less, but he would have liked to have a heads-up about her plan. It would have saved him the awkward confrontation.
Arching his brow at her, Grey returned to his work. Jesus, she was just like Dex. They both had a way of making a person feel like an asshole with very little effort.
When two o'clock came around, Des was the last one in the bar. The others had left when she said she would wipe everything down. She didn't have a problem doing the cleanup and since the new girl offered, they happily obliged. You'd have thought the building was on fire with how fast they ran out.
She went through the floor plan, dusting off tables and spreading crumbs and crap all over the floor before she put the chairs up, too. Des had finished with roughly half the tables when she heard heavy feet from behind. It was Grey, emerging from his cave in the back office.
"Hey," He greeted her.
"Hey," Des continued putting up the chairs.
"How was your first night?"
"Fine, but I don't know about my boss." When she finished with the final chair of the four that belonged to the table she was at, she turned to face him. "He's kind of a dick."
Grey grinned at her obvious teasing. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'm pretty protective of this place."
"It's fine," She replied, because it was. She didn't mind because she understood entirely, she just wished he hadn't sounded so accusatory when he confronted her.
"Well," Grey dug into his back pocket and produced a folded bit of cash. "Your tips for the night."
"Thanks." Des took it and stuck it into her bra because she didn't have pockets. After giving him another kind smile, she went back to work.
"You don't have to stick around. I can take care of this."
"No, it's fine. It keeps me busy."
"Afraid to go home?" He chuckled.
"Not afraid, but I know what's waiting for me when I get there." She said with a light sigh. "Look, I love Dex, I really do. You need someone to have your back in a fight, someone to help you out, she'll do everything she can, but you need forgiveness or someone who can let shit go?" Des let out a low whistle and shook her head. She gave Grey her attention again. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree with that one."
"Come on, it can't be that bad. Families, right?"
"I'll give you an example," Des leaned against the back of a booth seat and crossed her arms. With a small smile, she went on. "When I was ten, Dex had a paper route." Grey chuckled and stared at her with disbelief. She expected it. A paper route was a cute kind of job no one could see Dex having. "She was sick one day, so Grams had me take over. No problem, Dex only had a couple streets. So, I do the route, but I got fancy with it. I thought it'd be cool to throw the papers instead of dropping them on the step."
Grey grimaced with a smile. "I think I know where this is goin'. Broken window?"
"Oh, I broke it good." She joked. "Five AM, broken window, dogs start barking, the whole deal. So, I ran."
"Of course,"
"I dumped the papers off in a ditch, went home, never said a word. Later that day, her boss calls and chews her out. Didn't matter how many times she tried to tell him it was my fault, he fired her right then and there. She's livid, right, 'cuz it's her first job," he nodded. "But I refuse to take responsibility. To this day she brings it up. Almost twenty years later, and it's still one of her favorite stories to use to point out how irresponsible I am."
Grey seemed to muse over the fact, but given how long he'd known her sister, Des highly doubted that he was surprised by it. Surely, by now, Grey had experienced Dex's inability to let things go at least once through the years.
"Well, look, regardless," He said, "You can head out. I'll finish up."
She eyed him curiously. "You sure?"
"Yeah," He nodded. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay," She was a little apprehensive, but gave him a nod. "I'll see you later."
With a soft smile and a wave, Des headed out. Grey followed her to the door and locked it behind her.
The street was nearly abandoned. There were a few people here and there, probably employees like her just ending their shifts, but for the most part, Des was alone. It was a bit cold outside, which made her wish she had a jacket, but thankfully, her car was close by.
As she walked, her rental now in sight, Des felt a chill creep up the back of her neck -a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air. Her pace slowed until, eventually, she stopped entirely. With her brows pulled together, Des looked around. Something was wrong, but she couldn't tell what it was. There was a nagging that wouldn't leave her.
And then she grasped what the feeling was. Des felt like she was being watched. The realization hit her hard, hard enough that breathing suddenly became difficult. Within seconds, Des had gone from being slightly uncomfortable to near full panic in seconds. Maybe it was irrational, maybe it wasn't. Either way, Des jogged quickly to her car, practically dove inside, and locked every door.
As her key slid into the ignition, she kept her eyes on the distance, but nothing emerged. No monster, no creeper –nothing. From what she could see, Des was alone, but the feeling of being watched persisted.
Unwilling to remain behind any longer, Des drove off as quickly as she could without drawing the attention of the cops she knew were probably hidden around corners looking for drunks.
The house was maybe twenty minutes from Old Town, thirty if you hit every light or there was traffic. It took Des an hour. No matter how far from Bad Alibi she got, Des still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of being watched.
When she made it inside, Des locked up the house tight and fell onto the couch. She was in the process of yanking off her boots when, from seemingly nowhere, Dex emerged from the hall. The elder sister glanced over her.
"Well?" She asked bluntly.
Des's brows creased slightly. "Well, what?" She asked as she tugged off her Docs.
Dex arched a brow in that irritating way that always made Desi want to smack her.
"Are you wondering if I burned the bar down, or what?"
"Did you?"
Des scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No, obviously." She peeled off her socks. "It was a nice night, okay? Everything's fine. Grey's not going bankrupt, the police weren't called, everything's fine."
Dex didn't reply. Instead, she continued to stare at her little sister. It was pretty clear that she was doing her best to figure out if Des was lying or not.
Eventually, Dex mumbled something about goodnight and left to, presumably, go to bed. When she had, Des rolled her eyes again and with a groan, laid down on the couch.
Des had been in town for nearly a week and slipped into life in Portland about as well as she assumed she could in a week. She might have been born and raised within the borders of Stumptown, it hadn't been "home" in a long time, and during that absence, everyone else moved right along. As a result, Des was the one that had to adapt. She had to slowly but surely insert herself back into the way of things.
With Dex off doing whatever it was she did (maybe making babies cry?) Des took Ansel to work. Apparently he did a little bit of everything, which he enjoyed. Des was glad he loved his job.
While he was doing something for Grey, Des sat at one of the tables off to herself. He said she could hang out for a while before they opened and she happily did. Today, Des had to return her rental, so a car was on the list of priorities.
Deep into Craig's List and scanning the thousandth ad for a cheap car, a drink slid into her view -brown, bubbling, and with a couple of cherries floating beneath the ice. The sudden appearance surprised her enough that it brought her back into reality. She looked up to see Grey smiling kindly, but there was a strange expression on his face.
"Thanks," She said.
"Ansel said it was your favorite." He said, still sounding oddly confused.
She narrowed her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. "What's the face for?"
"Root beer with cherries?" He asked. "Is that a thing?"
Still smiling, this time slyly, Des pushed the glass toward him.
"Try some."
"No thanks," he chuckled.
"Scared I have cooties?"
"I don't like root beer."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"Sorry," He shrugged a shoulder. "Can't stand it."
"Oh my god," Des exaggerated her shock, but there was a genuine surprise there underneath it. "I… I don't think we can be friends anymore." He eyed her, a grin curling the corner of his lips. "Don't worry, sweetheart." Des said to her soda as she pulled it back to her side. "He's clearly a commie."
The laughter that burst from Grey was instant and filled with a level of surprise that made her laugh, too. He clearly wasn't expecting such a random statement.
"Seriously?"
Des's response was nothing more than looking up at him with big, innocent eyes as she sipped on her drink. Grey shook his head to himself, still apparently musing over her comment as he turned to walk away.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" She suddenly called out. Grey turned and eyed her curiously. "Hey, so, do you know if there are any cheap tote-the-note places around here?"
"Tote-the-note?" He asked as he approached her once more.
"Yeah, those little wonky car dealerships. You know of any that are nice and cheap?"
His brows tugged together briefly. "Looking for a car?" She nodded. "How much are you wanting to spend?"
"A grand at the most."
He scowled slightly. "Oh, come on. You can't be that cheap."
She arched a brow. "Excuse me?"
"No, it's just…" He fumbled briefly when he realized what he'd said, and how it sounded. "You need something more reliable."
"I'm not worried about it." She said. And, if she was right, Des could've sworn a little of his soul died when she said that.
Grey sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly. He looked so disappointed, as though she broke his heart when she said she wanted something cheap to drive. Did he think she was going to get something as terrible as Dex's Mustang?
Defeated, he finally said, "Yeah, I know a place." Grey turned and spotted Ansel filling the salt shakers. "Hey, bud." He walked towards her brother. "You wanna come with us, or hang out here for an hour or so?"
"Come where?" he asked.
Des leaned back so she could see him around Grey. "I'm going to go buy a piece of shit car."
Ansel chuckled and shook his head. "No thanks." His gaze shifted back to Grey. "Can I stay here?"
"Of course, man." Grey nodded. "You got my number and everything in case you need me?" Ansel nodded. "Okay, then we'll be back in a little while."
Grey gave Ansel a high five before he turned back to Des. "You wanna a to-go cup or something?" He asked a bit sarcastically.
Whether she just wanted to show off, or because of the teasing way he'd asked the question, Des did something she hadn't done since she was a teenager. Without a word, she lifted the drink to her lips and proceeded to drain the pint-sized glass much faster than someone should have drunk root beer. She chugged it, basically, and knew she'd regret it later, but she wanted to prove a point (or something else equally ridiculous).
When she'd finished, Des set the glass down and struggled not to belch like a caveman. She might make herself sick, but the surprised look on Grey's face made it worth it. For now. If she threw up root beer later, she might change her mind.
"No," the word sounded a little forced. Des had to clear her throat before she continued on. "I'm good."
Grey nodded slightly, "Sure."
With a small, albeit arrogant smile, she stood, stepped around him, and gave Ansel a hug. "Be back soon, man."
"Okay," He squeezed her hard. "Love you."
"Love you more." She said as they parted.
With a smile, Ansel replied, "Love you most."
Des smiled, too –wide and happily. "Impossible."
As she and Grey left, Des was sure to wave goodbye to Ansel. He waved back.
Outside, Grey walked with her to the parking lot. "Wanna take your car or mine?"
"We can take mine. If I find anything, I have to return it, anyway."
"Rental?"
She nodded.
The selection was… subpar, to say the least. The only good thing Grey could say was at least Des didn't seem as distracted by the color of the car as her sister had been. He still couldn't believe that she thought the vomit-orange Mustang was a good look.
As they wandered the small lot with the car dealer close behind, Des spotted something that seemed to finally hold her attention. Grey followed her line of sight. Off to the side and a little further back than the others was an busted-looking Chevy Blazer.
Please don't, please, don't, please don't, he thought repeatedly to himself.
The Blazer looked awful. It was supposed to be black, but whoever painted it did a horrible job because through the chips, Grey could see that the original color was shit-brown. But no worries! Shit-brown was accentuated by a couple patches of surface rust, visible metal body, and clear coat that had bubbled away from the paint. It was missing three after-market hubcaps, the grill was dented in a way that told him it had become best friends with a deer, and there was a crack straight down the center of the windshield.
Goddamn it he grumbled when Des, of course, approached it.
"You can't be serious." He said disapprovingly.
"I like old cars." She said.
"Yeah, well, this isn't supposed to be antiquing."
From her stance near the driver's side door, Grey noticed her smirk, but her interest in the old Blazer didn't seem to be wavering.
"Pretty sure this thing's older than you."
Des drew back and glanced at the huge '84 painted on the windshield. "By a few years, yeah." She nodded. Des looked at the car dealer. "What's wrong with it?"
A slimy smile immediately spread across the guy's face. "Absolutely nothing!" he beamed. "Original interior, original transmission, and original motor."
Grey scowled as he looked at the man to his side. "That's not a good thing."
"Yeah," Des agreed. "You really shouldn't brag about that with a thirty-five-year-old truck."
Mr. Slimy's smile faltered just a bit, but he wasn't dissuaded. "But they're so reliable."
Grey shook his head openly and Des rolled her eyes. At least she wasn't fooled by his pitch. Unfortunately, she wasn't walking away from the turd-on-wheels.
And then she said something that made his heart sink.
"I need the keys."