Lasting Damage Page 4

  “The waitress with the red hair-”

  “Oh god.” She interrupted with a deep groan and placed a hand on her stomach like she was trying to keep from throwing up. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”

  “I’m not even really sure what is happening,” Harper laughter was nervous and short as she realized she was going to throw the waitress under the bus and come clean about the whole thing. “I was trying to leave and she dragged me in here.”

  “You let a stranger lock you in the courtyard?” Jane pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and shook her head. “Didn’t your mother warn you against trusting strangers?”

  “My family had an open door policy when I was growing up so I have a difficult time distinguishing strangers from people I forgot that I already met.” She shrugged.

  Jane popped the top of her soda and took a sip. “It still doesn’t explain why you let Chloe lock you in here.”

  “That’s her name?” Harper asked.

  “Don’t try deflecting attention away from yourself.” Jane took another sip but kept her eyes fixed on Harper. “Just answer my question.”

  “I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to answer your question.” Harper admitted.

  “Starting at the beginning and ending with the truth is always a decent plan.” Jane’s voice was stony and unreadable and made Harper exceptionally nervous.

  “Like I said,” she paused. “I was leaving and the waitress asked me my name and I told her and then she’s opened the door and pulled me in here. That’s pretty much the entire story from start to finish.”

  “If you say so.” Jane sounded unconvinced but her expression was loosening up a bit. “Why were you leaving so early?”

  Harper looked down at the ground and dug the toe of her Converse sneakers between two rust colored bricks and decided she really didn’t have it in her to keep the conversation going in the direction it was presently going. “Look, I know that humiliation is a powerful teacher but I’m not in the mood to have my nose rubbed in the dirt tonight and I’d really appreciate maintaining a small shred of my personal dignity. Now, can you please unlock the door so I can go home?”

  Jane took another sip of her soda before putting it down. “And you think that I’m planning on humiliating you and rubbing your nose in the dirt?”

  “It’s not a very huge leap to make.” Harper admitted as she picked another spot to dig into.

  “And why is that?” Jane asked

  “You’re just very difficult to read.”

  “Being difficult to read is my defense strategy against assholes.” Jane ran a hand over the top of her head and let out a deep sigh. “I deal with a lot of drunk guys who think that they have the right to say or do whatever they want because they’ve been raised with a bloated ego and sense of entitlement.” She shrugged.

  “Why don’t you work somewhere else?” Harper asked the most obvious questions she could come up with for the lesbian who worked in a straight nightclub.

  “Because I don't like being anyone's drunken regret.” She answered.

  Harper had that familiar feeling of being punched in the chest by someone else’s admission of self-loathing and she immediately wanted to rush in a fix it. “I doubt you've ever been anyone's regret.”

  “What were you saying about humiliation?” Jane’s laugher sounded as sad as her eyes looked at that moment. “If you're just looking for some quick fuck-buddy action you need to tell me straight out. There’s no reason to pretty it up with promises that you don’t intent to keep.”

  “You really like to cut to the chase, don't you?” Harper swallowed back the sharp cough the stuck in her lungs at the rawness of Jane’s words.

  “I just think you need to understand that I don't like playing bullshit games with people. I'm a firm believer in everybody being on the same page.” Jane shifted her weight before leaning back against the brick wall.

  “And this means? What?” Harper wasn’t about to throw aside her need for clarification just because Jane was showing some interest in her.

  “I'm not the kind of girl who enjoys being strung along.”

  “I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not the kind of person who enjoys stringing people along.” Harper replied.

  Jane looked away for a long moment before nodding her head and meeting Harper’s gaze again. “You meet me at Sammi's on Exchange Street at eleven tomorrow morning and I'll let you buy me brunch.”

  “I can do that,” Harper said with as much calm as she could muster.

  “I am not a cheap date.” Jane informed her.

  “Not a problem.”

  “And If you're looking for one of those girls who spends an entire meal pushing her food around with her fork while she giggles at your lame-ass jokes you need to find someone else, because I’m not going to be catering to your ego.”

  “Got it.” Harper nodded as she moved closer to the door. Jane looked as if she was contemplating locking her in for the night so she figured she’d better move fast if she was ever going to see the outside world again. “If you want to give me any more instructions you can always have one of your friends shoot me a text.”

  “You better not stand me up tomorrow.” Jane held the door open for Harper to pass and shot her a sideways glance before letting out an irritated sigh. “I’m not a big fan of handing out second chances.”

  “I understand completely.” Harper stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and forced herself to keep from doing a happy dance.

  “Go back in and I’ll mix you up another drink,” Jane said as she fished a set of keys from the pocket of her apron. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you sit at the bar and sweet talk me till the lights come back on.”

  4.

  Harper pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and straightened her shoulders. Both actions were nervous holdovers from childhood and she had about as much control over them as she had over the anxiety that twisted her stomach into tight knots.

  She was going to have to come clean to Jane before things went any further. Her friendship and business with Riley weren’t all that big of a deal as long as she told Jane before she found out on her own.

  Harper checked the time on her phone.

  Jane was late.

  Not terribly late, just enough to make her jump to the conclusion that she was being stood up.

  Or Jane had called Riley, to discuss family things, and he’d mentioned her name and now Jane hated her and Harper was going to be standing out on the sidewalk for the rest of the day. Sliding her phone back into her pocket she told herself that it was better to get stood up now than dumped later.

  Harper stared across the street and watched people as they milled in and out of shops and restaurants. There was enough foot traffic around the Old Port to lose someone in a crowd from time to time but after twenty minutes of waiting Jane would have noticed her standing here like an idiot.

  Her brain told it was time to stop gaping at strangers and go back home. Jane wasn’t coming and that was that. There would be no dark haired beauty breaking away from the shoppers as they milled around the streets. No girl, dressed in a cut off shorts and black, spaghetti strap, shirt crossing the street with dark glasses covering her eyes and cherry colored lipstick coating her lips.

  Harper stood still and kept her eyes on the young woman moving in her direction. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she recognized the smile and the pretty face with the matching dimples.

  “Hey.” Jane stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and slid the sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “Hey,” Harper stammered. “I wasn't sure if you were going to make it.” She didn’t know why Jane’s appearance floored her, maybe it was the realizing how perfect her skin was or that her hair had auburn highlights and thick waves that flowed down her back or maybe it was the shade of red she wore on her lips that made Harper want to kiss her right out there on the street. Whichever it was Har
per knew better than to examine it too closely

  “Been here long I take it?” Jane adjusted her sunglasses with one hand as she ran the other one through her dark hair.

  “Only long enough to discover which bench is the most comfortable.” Harper teased. “Nothing a little ass cushion won’t cure.”

  “Oh, come on. I'm not that late,” Jane tilted her head back and let out a small laugh. “It's Sunday afternoon, I'm supposed to be lounging around my apartment in my pajamas having deep conversations with my television and eating ice cream out of the container.”

  Harper wanted to tell her it sounded like a perfect way to spend a Sunday morning and she would’ve been more than happy to be a join her, but she figured she was already pushing her luck. “I’m impressed you’re this perky after working until two in the morning.”

  “How can I not be perky when I’m about to go into my favorite house of brunching?”

  “House of brunching?” Harper repeated as she followed Jane into the restaurant. “Is that a technical term or did you just make it up to impress me.”

  She looked back at Harper with a smile. “What can I say? I have a creative grasp of the English language.”

  “You certainly do.” Harper agreed enthusiastically.

  “Hey, if you think I've got issues with the language, you should meet my parents. My dad's from Denmark and my mom's from Scotland. I'm impressed I can string two sensible words together some days.” Jane gave a nod to the pink haired woman behind the hostess stand and kept on walking until she reached the far end of the room.

  “How international.” Harper pulled out her chair and sat down across from Jane. “How did you end up in Portland, Maine?”

  “My parents thought it was a good place to raise kids. So they packed us up when I was around five and moved here.”

  Harper watched her for a moment before deciding it wasn’t the right time to tell her that she already knew most of the story from the time Riley tried to explain his complicated citizenship situation. “Where were you living?”

  “Copenhagen,” Jane replied. “It's in Denmark.”

  “I know where Copenhagen is.” Harper picked up the menu in front of her and flipped it open.

  “Really? People usually think I'm talking about Amsterdam. I get a lot of questions about hash bars and prostitutes,” she said with a small laugh.

  “I also know the difference between The Netherlands and Denmark.” Harper peered up over the top of the menu to see Jane staring at her intently.

  “I'm impressed. Points to you for paying attention to your geography lessons.” Jane sat back and smiled. “I like a person who’s not afraid to show their intelligence. It’s very refreshing.”

  “What can I say?” she shrugged. “I was homeschooled on a commune.”

  “Ah, yes.” Jane nodded “Smart hippies teaching you all about the world. I should have known you'd be brighter than the average bear.”

  “Are you actually giving me a compliment?” Harper asked with a little good natured sarcasm.

  “You can call it whatever you want,” she said as a tall waitress with dimple piercings and Betty Page bangs sidled up to their table.

  “Hey there, Queen Jane,” The waitress said knowing wink. “You want to start off with a drink or do you want to go behind the bar and play mad scientist?”

  “Why don't you me start off with a Paloma?” Jane gave the waitress a swat on the butt before turning back to Harper. “What are you drinkin' Champ?”

  “Whatever you suggest.”

  “Aren’t you a brave soul?” The waitress laughed.

  “My friend here will have a Chavela with a shot of Cabo Uno. You a fan of Bloody Marys?”

  “Only on Sunday mornings.”

  “And you got the cash to cover that shot, Jane?” She chuckled.

  “I've got it covered.” Harper interjected. “Jane’s off the hook for this meal.”

  “You hear that Nat?” Jane cocked and eyebrow and smiled. “The pretty girl says I’m off the hook for this meal.”

  “I’ll assume you’re planning on bleeding her dry,” Nat, the waitress, gave them a dramatic eye-roll. “Appetizers to start?”

  “Chile relleno?” Jane stares across the table until Harper nods her consent with the ordering situation. “Yam fries with tamarind ketchup? Empanada of the day?”

  “I see you've got the menu memorized,” Harper mused out loud.

  “She should. She eats here every single Sunday.” Nat announced.

  Harper closed the menu and handed it back to Nat. “I guess I'll have to leave the ordering to Jane.”

  “Sweet,” Jane responded. “We'll have all the really good stuff.”

  “You mean all your favorites?” Nat's shook her head.

  “Yep.” Jane answered proudly. “I want all of it.”

  “You sure you don't want to make any special requests?” Nat laughed. “Champagne brunch or Lobster-”

  “Don't you have a drink order to place?” Jane interrupted, handing over her menu with a smug grin.

  Nat laughed again before heading for the kitchen.

  “Queen Jane?” Harper asked. “What's that about?”

  “It's from a Bob Dylan song.”

  “Queen Jane Approximately. It’s from Highway 81 Revisited.” Harper replied with the specifics gleaned from a childhood spent surrounded with her parent’s record collection and no internet to distract her. “Why not Sweet Jane?”

  “No one calls me ‘Sweet Jane’.” She announced firmly. “No one. Ever.”

  “How come?” Harper asked.

  “Have you met me? I'm not the Sweet Jane type.” She folded her hands on the table and leaned in closer. “Can we change the subject now?”

  “Just trying to get you figured out.” Harper held her hands up in mock defeat and sighed. “You're not exactly giving me anything concrete to go on.”

  “Tell me about your hippie parents and life on the commune.” She replied, swiftly deflecting the focus back to Harper. “Were you named after Harper Lee?”

  Harper sat back and stared at the brick wall just past Jane’s shoulders. It felt fitting that she should be sitting there as she seemed determined to present herself as being as impenetrable as a brick wall. “So, we're not going to talk about you?”

  “No, not really.” She shook her head and smiled sweetly. “We could always talk about sex?”

  “Excuse me?” Harper coughed.

  Jane fixed her gaze on Harper and pressed the forefinger to her chin. “Everyone wants to talk about sex.” She stated as though it were plain, simple fact.

  “I’m starting to think I really like how completely insane you are.” Harper set her elbows on the table, leaning in a little so she could hear every word that came out of Jane’s pretty mouth.

  “Thank god for small miracles.”

  “And you're opinionated.” Harper teased.

  “I am highly opinionated.” Jane stated. “Painfully opinionated. I'm also obstinate and impossible and people usually end up with a splitting headache after talking to me for more than a few minutes.”

  Before either one of them can add a single word to Jane’s statement Nat returned with drinks and a tray full of appetizers.

  “That was fast.” Jane rubbed her hands together. She had a hungry glint in her bright eyes. “You must’ve put a fire under someone's ass.”

  Nat laughed as she set the drinks on the table. “Not exactly, but they are motivated.”

  “Looking to get me the hell out of here?” Jane asked

  “Something like that.” She nodded. “Sammi's back in the kitchen asking why don't you quit working at that shithole club and come work for her?”

  “Tell her to make me an offer I can’t refuse,” Jane sighed. “These days it wouldn’t take much to tempt me away.”

  “Job got you crapped out?” Harper asked as she picked up her drink and inspected it from all sides.

  “My job officially blows goats.” Jane pic
ked up her fork and stabbed at the bundle of fries in the middle of the platter. “Big fucking goat cocks.”

  “Sammi’s wondering if you’d come in tomorrow and have a chat?” Nat asked. “She’s got a business proposition for you.”

  “Sure, but tell her to make it the day after tomorrow and she needs to keep it under her had. No use getting people all riled up.” Jane wrapped her hand around the glass and brought it to her cherry red lips.

  “This conversation never happened,” said Nat before turning around and heading for the kitchen.

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “What?”

  “You getting job offers?” Harper asked. “Does it happen every time you walk into a bar or restaurant in this town?”

  Jane looked around the room for a moment before replying. “Not really.”

  “Do you think you'll take the job?” Harper wasn’t all that capable at making small talk in the best of situations. Most of the time she felt as though her efforts at communicating with members of her own species was about as easy as stuffing an octopus into a mayonnaise jar.

  “I wouldn't mind tending bar here. It's a nice relaxed atmosphere. The customers are a little older. They're probably a whole lot braver about trying drinks that aren't loaded with fruit juice and peach liqueur.”

  Harper picked up her shot of tequila and felt her stomach clench in response as she brought the drink to her lips and tipped her head back.

  “I'm so sick of making the same fucking drinks over and over. I can tell who's gonna order what and how much they'll consume just by the thickness of their spray tan.” She shook her head as she deposited food onto her plate. “One of these days I’m going to make up my own drink and call it ‘sweaty nut sack’.”

  “Don’t be offended if I don’t drink it.” Harper laughed so hard she was worried the tequila was going to fly up into her sinuses and burn a hole in her brain.

  “I won’t be,” she chuckled.

  “Sounds like you’re burnt out.” She gasped as she reached for the small bowl of lemon wedges and stuffed one between her teeth.

  “Not by bartending. I love bartending. It's the people in the club that make me crazy.” Jane said before taking another sip of her drink. “Did you know that there's a bar in New York that's hosting a tiny penis competition?”