So Garrett had been pissed and maybe I had called him an “unwashed waste of space.” Sue me; I don’t like being yelled at.
Then there was the time I had gotten drunk at one of their shows and I walked into the girls’ bathroom, only to find Garrett screwing some girl in a stall, with the door open. I mean, who does that? It’s completely gross!
Drunken Riley has zero filter (well less than zero because sober Riley’s filter was deficient enough) and I had kind of made a nasty comment about herpes. Well, I alluded to Garrett having herpes and maybe the girl should think before letting him stick his diseased penis in any of her orifices.
I don’t know why I had said that. I was ignorant of any venereal diseases where Garrett was concerned and that was a really shitty thing to say about someone I didn’t even know. All I can say in my defense is I was rendered blind by the sight and spewed out the first thing that came to mind to make it stop.
Come on! They were having sex. On top of a toilet. That is beyond nasty.
So you can see why I was not Garrett Bellows’ favorite person. And my thoughts about him were anything but pleasant. I don’t think I was unjustified in my feelings of overall disgust.
Looking at him standing in front of me, I couldn’t see past the blood shot eyes, messy shirt, and torn jeans. And I didn’t want to either. Garrett was who he was and I knew without a doubt that we were never destined to mix. Not that he would give a crap what I thought about him anyway.
So I cocked my head to the side and regarded him coldly before replying.
“Not fast enough, apparently,” I quipped, turning my back on him as I headed back to my section to clock myself out.
“You really should give the poor guy a break. I think he’ll need stitches from your particular brand of razor sharp bitchiness,” Maysie said. She had followed me to my section and was now lounging with her feet propped up on one of the chairs.
I glanced over to the bar to where Garrett was now schmoozing it up with a couple of girls I recognized from their honorary barfly status at Barton’s. “I think he’s over it,” I smirked, nodding his direction.
As if he could feel the weight of my stare, Garrett’s eyes met mine over the shoulder of the girl straddling his lap. I should have looked away. The whole thing was horribly embarrassing. But I voyeuristically watched as Garrett gripped her hips and ground the girl onto his groin.
My cheeks felt hot and I forced myself to look away. I swallowed thickly and turned back to Maysie who was watching me with a puzzled look on her face. I smiled thinly and wiped down the last table.
“I think you should come with me to the after party. It would do you good,” Maysie commented. I fell down into a chair beside my roommate. A refusal was on the tip of my tongue. I had a million and one instant excuses ready. I’m tired. I’ve got a killer headache. I have an early shift tomorrow.
But then I noticed Jaz and Damien talking in a corner. I knew body language and there was an uncomfortable amount of sexual awareness between the two. My heart hurt in my chest and I felt dangerously close to crying again.
Then I looked back at the bar and was startled to find Garrett still watching me. The girl who had been dry humping his crotch was gone and he was slowly nursing a beer. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink, his eyebrow cocking as he looked at me. He lowered the drink and an annoying smirk lifted his mouth.
Damn, I wanted to punch that smirk off his obnoxious mouth.
I straightened my back and got to my feet, picking up the rag from the table and bunching it in my clenched hand. “You know what, I think I will come,” I said firmly. Maysie blinked a few times in surprise.
“Wow, I was expecting to have to argue with you a bit more than that. What’s gotten into you?” she teased. I noticed Garrett, Jordan, and the other guys were starting to get ready for their set. This would have normally been my cue to run for the hills.
But not tonight.
Tonight I felt like being unpredictable.
I turned and grinned at Maysie. “I feel like being a bit of a bad girl,” I said and Maysie laughed.
“Riley Walker a bad girl? Now that I got to see.”
Well, just maybe she would.
3
An hour later I had changed into my favorite jeans and shirt that I had hand stitched myself. Yes, I, on occasion, liked to make my own clothes. And I didn’t care what anyone thought about it. I was proud of my pretty, patchwork shirt, and it made me feel good to wear it. It really was all about the small stuff at this point.
So here I was once again sat beside Maysie at the bar, trying not to stare at Damien and Jaz as they laughed in a booth five feet away. Generation Rejects were three songs in and the place was packed.
I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to grin and bear it. I wanted to go home but Mays insisted that I needed to make a point. Show the world that Riley Walker wasn’t down for the count.
“Total ass**les. She’s off my Christmas card list,” Maysie yelled in my ear while I purposefully looked anywhere but in the direction of my ex-boyfriend. I grit my teeth, trying really hard not to give into the almost overwhelming urge to channel my inner Incredible Hulk and start flipping tables.
“Do you even have a Christmas card list?” I asked her. Maysie snorted.
“Well, no, but bitch wouldn’t be on it,” she muttered, finishing off her third Long Island Iced Tea. I saw the telltale signs of inebriation overtake her. Maysie was a drinker. A partier by nature. Miss Social Butterfly. Which was perfect for the lifestyle she now found herself in, being the card carrying girlfriend of one hot-astic drummer of the crazily popular Generation Rejects. But the truth was I just couldn’t keep up. When it came to boozing and doing it up crazy style, I was still on the first lap.
“I appreciate you going all vengeful she-beast, but it’s unnecessary. This girl can fight her own battles,” I assured her chugging my soda before slamming the glass down on the bar top. I grabbed my apron and order pad. “I think I’m going to head home. I’m exhausted,” I said, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and the huge bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups sitting in the pantry.
Maysie grabbed my upper arm and gave me a yank. For such a scrawny girl, she had some serious upper body strength. “Excuse me? Is there a reason you’re digging your nails into my flesh?” I pinched my lips together, trying not to get annoyed.
“You’re not going anywhere. You promised you’d come to Garrett’s with me. Don’t you dare puss out on me! What happened to unleashing your inner bad girl?” she asked, though she wisely loosened her grip.