Lasting Damage Page 3

  Chloe stared at her for a moment before giving her a sweet smile and turning back to Lily who, at the moment, seemed to be hanging on her every word. “Very pretty face, not too boyish and she had great skin.”

  “And this is your ‘details free’ description?” Jane shook her head and stuffed a crab Rangoon in her mouth.

  “I didn’t get eye color but she had a good set of lips.” Chloe said between bites of food. “Very kissable-”

  “This part of the conversation needs to be over.” Jane interrupted them with a nasty scowl.

  “Why?” Lily asked.

  “Because it’s a waste of time.” Jane reached into her skirt pocket, pulled out the napkin with Harper’s number on it and tossed it onto the coffee table. “I’m not calling or texting and she’s not sitting around waiting for me to call or text so you can speculate to your heart’s content but none of it matters.”

  “What’s her name?” Lily picked up the napkin and examined it before setting it back on the table between them.

  “Harper.” Chloe announced with less enthusiasm than she had when talking about the girl’s physical attributes.

  “Oh, Nice” Lily grinned. “Very bookish.”

  “We have more interesting things to talk about.” Jane tried one more time to distract her friends with less than stellar results. “Like, what kinds of drugs Lily has in her purse tonight?”

  “Fine,” Chloe sighed, “but she's totally hot and totally into you and you could really use a hot girl who's totally into you.”

  “And you use the word ‘totally’ way too much.” Jane reveled in her ability to point out the obvious as wall her natural flair for changing the subject.

  “You’re being an idiot,” Lily said as she picked up her oversized Berkin bag and set it in her lap.

  “Well, maybe I enjoy being an idiot.” Jane shot back.

  “Well, maybe you do.” Lily smiled as she produced two large bottles of pills and set them on the table. “And maybe you're just an insolent brat who needs to get laid.”

  “I'm not a brat.”

  “So you're sticking with insolent and needing to get laid?” Lily nodded as though she’d suddenly been given proof that the depths of Jane’s soul didn’t run much deeper than a muddy puddle on a hot day in July.

  “Why don’t we contemplate my sad, pathetic existence after you get those pills crushed up and ready to go?”

  “Don’t crush mine.” Chloe made a stink face. “I hate snorting anything.”

  “Did it ever occur to you, Jane, that all I’m trying to do is to encourage you to engage in a healthy human interaction every once in a while.” Lily popped open both bottles and started making three small piles of pills. “No crushing, it’s Valium and Xanax and I’d like all of us to wake up tomorrow.”

  “Why on earth would you encourage more human interaction when I work in a bar?” Jane rolled her eyes. “Seriously, I get all the human interaction I can stand.”

  “I notice you didn't call it healthy interaction,” Chloe laughed and poured a healthy dose of shrimp fried rice on her plate.

  “Oh, come on,” Jane huffed. “You, of all people, know that the average Saturday night at work means dealing with wall to wall stupidity, hormones and alcohol. I dare you to find a speck of meaningful or healthy human interaction in that fucked up mess.”

  “That's a sweeping statement.” Lily looked up from her pills and smiled.

  “Yes it is. It's a broad, sweeping pronouncement on the state of my existence at work right now and I'm standing by it.” Jane set her chopsticks down on her plate and crossed her arms over her chest. “And can you please explain to me why I’m friends with either one of you? I'm starting to forget.”

  “Because we’re the only people who put up with your stupid crap?” Chloe reminded her.

  Jane had to press her lips together to keep from saying something snarky. Her mood wasn’t going to take a sudden, miraculous turn for the better because she’d unleashed her inner demon upon her friends so she decided to do something productive. “You’re roots are showing. You want me to clean that up for you?”

  “Is that a peace offering?” Lily asked.

  “Yes.” She admitted freely. “Am I doing it right?”

  “Not really, but I'll order a fresh bottle of Manic Panic and a bleach kit. You can do my whole head.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jane agreed. “When we get the bleach processing I'll try out a few new drinks on you.”

  “Oh, hell.” Chloe’s voice was flush with anxiety since they’d had their share of bad things happen when the two of them mixed hair dye with cocktails.

  “Oh, come one.” Jane reassured her. “It's not like I'm going to get out the clippers and shave the back of your head,”

  “I'd rather we didn't repeat that one.” Chloe lets out a long, mournful sigh. “I still can't look at gin and not miss that chunk of hair.”

  “Hair grows back.” Jane snapped. “And that bottle of Hendrick’s was amazeballs and you know it.”

  “Why is it Chloe never gets to do anything to your hair?” Lily asked.

  “Because there's nothing to do with my hair. It's straight. It's brown. End of story. Chloe’s hair, on the other hand, requires a lot of upkeep and since she refuses to spend any real money on getting it taken care of properly she’s stuck with me.”

  “If you were a real friend you’d offer to pay for her to go to a salon.” Lily gave her customary eye roll as reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of bills. “So? You gonna text that girl or what?”

  3.

  It was half past ten when Jane caught sight of Harper standing at the far end of the bar. She was wearing a faded Sex Pistols tee-shirt and a pair of those hipster glasses Lily mentioned.

  The band was in full swing and the place was packed. As profitable at the night was going to be for everyone it wasn’t the good for socializing unless you were drunk and horny and didn’t give a crap what people were talking about.

  “You up for a bit of the hard stuff tonight?” She shouted over the noise.

  “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” Harper pulls out a crisp hundred and holds it out for her to take.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re not talking about drinks,” she teased and slipped the cash into the front of her apron before hopping up on the stepladder. There was a bottle of Midleton Irish Whiskey she’d been dying to crack open for the longest time and Harper seemed like the kind of customer who would appreciate it.

  “Three bartenders?” Harper motioned to the two other women working behind the counter. “Band must be pretty good.”

  “I wouldn’t say there were good, but it's Saturday night and people need somewhere to go.” Jane answered. “Seems like you’re out of luck again.”

  “I got your text.” Harper shook her head.

  “What are you talking about?” Jane broke the seal on the bottle and grabbed a clean glass.

  “The text you sent me.” Harper reached into her pocket, pulled out her iPhone and hit the message icon before holding it up for Jane to read:

  ‘Good band tonight.

  Come check them out.

  Jane’

  Jane’s face went hot and her skin felt like she’d been dipped in scalding water. It was a miserable feeling and she wanted it to go away. “I didn't send that to you.” Her hands shook just enough for her to notice but she’d be damned if she was going to spill alcohol on the clean bar top with Harper watching.

  “You're the only one who has my number.” Harper stated as Jane slid the drink in front of her.

  “In the entire world?” Jane put the screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it on the counter behind the bar. She’d already been up the ladder once tonight, she figured she’d play it safe and assume Harper would want another drink before too long.

  “Just you and my mom.” Harper stated as downed her drink.

  “Maybe the text was from your mom?” Jane suggests with a laugh befor
e filling up the glass one more time. “Maybe ‘Jane’ is her secret spy name?”

  “My mother’s name is Feather and she doesn't believe in having a cell phone. Or a computer or a television.” She informed Jane. “She also doesn’t believe in having a microwave or electricity or eating anything that didn’t grow out of the ground and I seriously doubt she’s got a secret spy name.”

  “Sweet mother of god,” Jane laughed. “She's a hippie.”

  “No.” Harper shook her head, pressed the glass to her lips and took the drink. “My grandparents were hippies. She and my dad were raised on a commune, and crunchy habits die hard.”

  Jane took a breath to clear her head but it felt like an impossible task., the air is thick and all around her people were screaming and the band was playing at the loudest possible volume. As much as she wanted to blame her growing anxiety on external distractions she had to admit to that the real problem was the overwhelming desire to stand in one spot and feed Harper whiskey till the sun came up.

  Jane reached out, took the iPhone from Harper’s hand and stared at the screen as her brain ran the phone number through its memory banks. It’s wasn’t a long process since she’d been dialing that exact number for years.

  Fucking Lily

  “That's my roommate’s number.” She told Harper after handing back the phone. “I didn't text you. She did.”

  “You gave her my number?” Instead of looking sad and forlorn Harper shot her a look that said she wasn’t buying what Jane was trying to sell.

  “Calm down, Hotshot,” Jane replied. “I didn’t hand your number over to anyone. I put the napkin on the coffee table while we were eating dinner and Lily picked it up. She probably had it memorized before she put it back down. She’s sneaky like that.”

  “So, you guys were talking about me?” Harper’s expression transitioned from suspicious to smug in an instant.

  “It’s no biggie.” She topped off her little lie with a casual shrug, and started cleaning up the empty, abandoned glasses before Charlie had a chance to get in her way. “We talk about people from this place all the time.”

  “And then you’re roommate just decided to text me?”

  “You’re making a big deal over nothing,” Jane said as she took an order for a vodka gimlet.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and you need a drink.”

  “You're the mixologist. What do you recommend?”

  “Mixologist?” She scoffed at Harper’s blatant attempt to blow rainbow colored, unicorn smoke up her ass. “Where's you hear that line of bullshit?”

  “Portland Magazine.” Harper replied. “They did a spread on local bartenders a few years ago. You were on the cover.”

  “Were you creeping on me?” She laughed as she filled an order for a round of tequila shots.

  “No. But I checked out the club’s website and it had a link to the article. Apparently you're one of the best bartenders in the city.”

  “It's a small city” she chuckled. “The pool is pretty limited.”

  “Wow.” Harper ran a hand through her hair and looked a little dismayed that her sweet talk had fallen flat. “You just do not know how to take a compliment, do you?”

  Jane took an order for a mojito and gave her a sour face. “How about a Rusty Nail?”

  “For my coffin?”

  “For your gut,” answered Jane. “It's a drink. Scotch and Drambuie.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Jane could feel Harper watching as she took more orders. In her head she knew she should be angry at Lily but pretending she wasn’t interested in Harper was getting difficult.

  She saved Harper’s drink for last even though she took the order first. She figured it was the only way to carve out a little space for thirty seconds worth of small talk with the girl she was starting to like.

  “You still haven’t told me about the band?” She asked when Jane set the honey colored drink in front of her. “Good or bad?”

  “If you were really here for the band you'd be over by the stage and not over here making googly-eyes at me.” Jane made one more attempt at playing hard to get before giving up and admitting she was sweet on her new favorite customer.

  Harper smiled and for a brief second Jane was certain she was about to lean across the bar and kiss her. Instead Harper picked up her drink, moved off the barstool and disappeared into the crowd, and Jane was left alone to wonder if she’d managed to completely fuck things up.

  *****

  The band was halfway through its second set when Harper decided it was time to head back to Riley’s. The night turned out to be a complete bust; the band was as lifeless as overcooked macaroni, she’d had way too many sweaty male bodies ‘accidently’ pressed against her and she wasn’t in the mood to withstand one more verbal go-round a girl who clearly wasn’t interested.

  Setting her empty glass on the nearest available table she was heading toward the exit when a familiar looking redhead, with a serving tray tucked under her arm, placed a firm hand on her arm.

  “Can I help you?” Harper asked as she tried to pull away.

  “Your name is Harper? Right?” The redhead eyed her carefully for a moment before a smile spread over her face.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Okay, cool. Hold this.” The waitress shoved the tray into Harper’s hands and pulled a set of keys from the front pocket of her apron. “You need to come with me.”

  “No, I don’t.” Harper answered back.

  “Look, this is important.” The waitress gave her a push against the wall and opened a large set of doors that Harper hadn’t noticed before. “It’s about Jane.”

  Harper held still as the waitress gave a quick look down the hallway and then motioned for her to follow her past the doors. Harper had seen enough horror movies to know that this was usually when the axe murder showed up and started chopping people into tiny pieces.

  “Come on,” the waitress said as she popped her head back through the doorway and grabbed a handful of Harper’s shirt.

  Harper dug in her heels but holding firm wasn’t an easy task. The girl might’ve been several inches shorter but she had both the element of surprise and brute strength on her side.

  “Stop it,” Harper hissed as she tried to pry the waitress’s fingers from her shirt.

  “Jesus fuck,” the waitress grumbled as she manhandled Harper past the doors. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “How is this helping me?” Harper struggled to pull away from her but it was wasted effort since the girl pushed her up against the wall and held her steady.

  “Charlie’s just told me he was taking over for Jane. She’s about to go on break and she always comes out here to drink her soda in peace.” The waitress announced conspiratorially. “All you have to do is be in here waiting for her, and then it’s all about you turning on the charm.”

  Harper felt her breath hitch in her chest as she realized she probably wasn’t about to be robbed or beaten to death with a serving tray. “I don’t really think she’s all that interested in-”

  “Yes, she is.” The waitress interrupted before loosening her grip on Harper’s shirt. “It’s just that she’s the kind of person who needs to be cornered every once in a while.”

  “What if I’m not very good at doing the cornering?” Harper let out a breath as she found her footing and tried to make for the door.

  It wasn’t much of an escape attempt since all the waitress had to do was give her another push up against the wall and Harper was instantly paralyzed. She assumed it was the result of a childhood spent among pacifists and stoners.

  “Improvise,” the waitress said as she opened the door and slipped back out.

  Harper stood in stunned silence, unable to move, while the door clicked shut, and the unmistakable sound of a lock turning echoed in the empty courtyard. She wasn’t sure how things had gotten so weird so fast, all she’d been trying to do was leave before she could get tangled up in another attempt
at making friends with Jane.

  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and took stock of their contents before pulling out her phone. Getting reception wasn’t a problem but Riley was the only person she knew in town and he was in Boston so he wasn’t going to be able to help her get out of the situation gracefully. Harper shoved the phone back into her pocket. It seemed like pounding on the door until someone let her out was her only option if she wanted to make it out before Jane showed up.

  Harper was moving toward the door when make a run for it because she figured that it was only going to make things worse but it was difficult to think straight with the heavy pounding of blood in her ears.

  “Jane?” She asked as the unmistakable figure of a woman came into view. “Is that you?”

  “Harper?” Jane held the door open for a second before crossing the threshold and closing it behind her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m not sure,” she stammered nervously. “I got lost.”

  “Lost?” Jane reached for the wall directly to the right of the door and flipped on the lights and everything came into view. She wasn’t standing in an empty courtyard like she’d assumed. It was an abandoned eating area fitted with tables and chairs and a high fence with lattice roof covered in green vines and fairy lights.

  And there was Jane.

  Harper held her breath for a moment and stopped hating the crazy waitress who’d stuffed her through the doors.

  “I was headed to the bathroom and must’ve gotten turned around,” she stammered like a nervous teenager, obviously, lying and improvising were not her strong suits.

  “But how did you get in here?” Jane turned the handle on the door and closed it shut before setting her can of soda on the hostess stand and crossing her arms over her chest. “The door’s always locked.”

  “I’m not really sure,” Harper said with a sigh. “I was trying to leave and I got stuffed in here and that girl told me to improvise.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jane narrowed her eyes for a second before tilting her head to the side as if she were trying to remember something.