Bad Impressions (Revive Me #1) (18 page)

I pushed through the door into
Miller’s Tavern.
The owner, Jeff Miller, had called me in at the goddamn crack of dawn for a
meeting
. Tiff and I had already had our monthly meeting with him three weeks ago, so I had no idea what the hell he needed to talk about, because we’d already been over everything during
that
meeting. Jeff was very hands-off. He had his fingers in a lot of pies and
Miller’s Tavern
was just one of his many businesses—likely, his least profitable one. He had no experience running a bar, so he left the management in the hands of Tiff and I and checked in with us once every month or two.

“Brad.”

I turned towards a booth in the far corner of the bar to see him waving me over. I was surprised that Tiff wasn’t there. I was close to ten minutes late thanks to my truck giving me shit and being a little bitch about starting in the morning’s sub-zero temperature.

“Morning. Sorry I’m late. The truck gave me some trouble.”

He ignored my apology. “Have a seat, Brad. We need to talk.”

We need to talk?
That phrase never boded well in any situation. What the hell was going on?

As I approached, I was very aware that he wouldn’t look me in the eye. That had me tensing up right away.
Shit.
It’d just become clear that it wasn’t a normal meeting he’d called me to. Wanting to confirm that, I asked, “Tiff’s not coming?”

He shook his head and fiddled nervously with a wad of papers on the table as I slid into the booth opposite him. “No. Just you and me.”

I was fast becoming agitated with his cryptic bullshit. I hated people beating around the bush and Jeff was very much that kind of guy. He took ages to get to the damn point. The fact that he was so obviously ill at ease didn’t sit well with me either and it was putting me on edge.

“What’s going on, Jeff?” I pressed, leaning back against the booth as I snuck a discreet glance at the papers that his intense stare was threatening to bore a hole right through. Profit and loss statements. The nosedive of the graph on one of the pages didn’t escape my notice.
Fuck. This isn’t good at all.

He drew in a breath and finally had the goddamn decency to actually look me in the fucking eyes.
Pussy.

He scrubbed his hand over the rough stubble on his jaw and then scratched his way-too-long dirty blonde hair. Wearing holey jeans and a faded t-shirt, he didn’t look like a typical businessman at all. In all the time I’d known him, I’d never once seen him wearing a suit, or even giving any kind of fuck about his appearance. He’d never left the 90’s grunge era. It seemed like he’d settled on that look and never looked back—or forward.

“We’ve taken a massive hit over these last couple of weeks,” he finally spoke.

“It
has
been quiet, yeah.”

“Quiet? We’ve had
no
business, Brad.”

Before I could get another word out, he went on, “Because of your personal life.”

Excuse me?
“What?”

His gaze hardened; his uncompromising
business
glare. “The town is boycotting the bar.”

“It’ll blow over. You know how this town gets, overreacting over every little thing.”

“I do. But I can’t take the risk.”

My stomach lurched at his words and the look in his eyes. It was then that I realized exactly where he was going. But I had to ask anyway, mostly because he didn’t have the balls to say anything more. “What are you saying?”

He cleared his throat, struggling to step up to the plate. “I have to let you go, Brad.”

“Jeff—”

“Believe me; I didn’t want it to come to this. You’re my best employee; always have been. That’s why I tried to wait it out these last couple of weeks. But the bar is losing too much money. I’m sorry. Maybe when this blows over, we can—”

I shot to my feet, incensed. “Forget it.”

“Brad, I really am sorry.”

I slammed my hands down on the table. “Years, Jeff. That’s what I’ve given this place.”

I needed to get out of there ASAP, because I could feel my blood boiling; my temper kicking into overdrive. I was right on the edge of doing something I knew I’d regret.

And so, without another word, I stormed to the exit, slamming the door loudly for good measure on my way out.

I couldn’t believe it.

I’d always known that Jeff was a businessman first. He’d always been ruthless when making decisions, but I’d just never imagined he’d screw me over like that.

I’d given the bar so much. I’d killed myself stepping up for him by working double shifts, taking on management duties and shit.
And this is how he repays me?
He couldn’t even wait out the town boycott on the bar. It wouldn’t last forever and I knew the bar’s books as well as he did. It could survive it.

Even walking the few feet across the road to my truck, I could feel judgmental eyes on me, watching me and disapproving of me.
Fuck! That’s it!

I couldn’t hold back. I returned their glares tenfold, forcing them to look away.

Before I could stop myself, I slammed my fist into the side of my truck and let out an irate roar that had a couple of well-known busybodies hurrying past me.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’d had my fill of this shit show.

It was destroying my life.

I’d just been fired.

Fortunately, I had enough savings to survive for a while, but still. That wouldn’t last forever.

Didn’t Ollie get it? It was my fucking life, not some fucking childish game!

He’d actually made it impossible for me to remain in Marsden.

Fuck. It’s over for me. I’m done here.

Chapter 25

~Sophie~

I rubbed my gloved hands together as I walked into
Miller’s Tavern.

I was grateful for the immediate warmth.
Brr!
It was bitterly cold outside and the weather report had warned of a full-on snow storm coming Marsden’s way.

As I made my way to the bar, I was surprised to see that the place was packed. It was weird, considering how quiet it had been lately. I pulled off my gloves and stuffed them in the pockets of my baby-blue wool coat. I unbuttoned it, already feeling stifled by the heat from the busy bar, and settled myself onto one of the wooden stools.

I spotted Tiff frantically rushing to serve the crowds of people, some up at the bar around me and the rest seated at their tables, waiting on their drinks and food. I decided to wait until she was done, before I announced my presence. She didn’t need the distraction. She was already run off her feet as it was.

Where is Brad?
He’d told me he was working a double shift. I’d been working at the bookstore all day and then I’d headed to mine and Ollie’s place to shower and to pick up a change of clothes, knowing that Ollie would still be at work, so I wouldn’t have to worry about running into his judgmental ass.

It was about an hour and a half until closing and I’d come in to surprise Brad, figuring I’d take him out afterwards to cheer him up.

Despite his attempts to hide it, I’d seen how stressed he’d been lately over all the crap with Ollie. I planned to take his mind off it, even for a little while.

Tiff handed a couple of rowdy guys their drinks and then stomped to the back, her heels clacking angrily on the floor. She was unusually stressed out. Normally, her and Brad were a well-oiled machine. It didn’t matter how busy it got, they never freaked out.
What the hell is going on?

“The top shelf!” she yelled through the open door that led to the back stock room.

A second later, someone emerged.

I was shocked to see that it wasn’t Brad.

Instead, Roy Williams hurried out after Tiff, trailing after her like a confused puppy, clutching a bottle of vodka in his right hand. Tiff slammed a couple of glasses onto the countertop and hissed something at him. Instructions, I assumed. I couldn’t hear over the noise of the busy bar. He ran his fingers anxiously through his spiky gelled hair as he took her words in. I caught her gaze lingering on his impressive biceps that were straining against his snug ribbed white t-shirt. His black jeans were an equally snug fit. Roy knew he had the goods and he reveled in showing off the fruits of his labor. The guy had always worked out in high school when he’d been the star quarterback on the football team and that clearly hadn’t changed.

But, as far as I was concerned, he had nothing on
my
guy. Brad beat him on all counts: muscle-tone, size and good looks. Roy was too much of a straight-up pretty boy.
Like Jake
, I mused with distaste. While Brad had that rough-around-the-edges all man thing going for him.
Mmm.
Just the thought of him was turning me on.
Wow
. I needed to get a grip. Yeah…a grip of
him
. Where the hell was he?

I waited for God knew how long until things calmed down.

“Hey babe,” Tiff said, suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts that had kept me occupied. Mostly dirty scenarios of me and Brad together. “How long have you been here?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “A little under half an hour.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry. It’s crazy in here tonight. What can I get you?”

“Just the usual.”

She nodded and a few seconds later, I was sipping at a pint of the house beer.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, leaning against the bar tiredly.

“Just waiting on Brad. I came here to surprise him.”

Her brow furrowed. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

She looked really uncomfortable and she hesitated.

“What, Tiff?” I pressed, my adrenaline spiking from the look in her eyes.
Oh my God. What is it?

“Jeff…uh…he fired Brad this morning.”

I choked on my beer. “What?” I managed between coughs. “I don’t understand. Brad is his rock. Why would he…how could he fire him?”

“Because of the boycott.”

“Boycott? It’s just a few people being ridiculous.”

“I agree, but I guess Jeff didn’t see it that way. You know he just sees dollar signs.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed, pushing my stool back.

She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Jeff’s losing his fucking mind, firing Brad on a Friday—one of the busiest nights—and then hiring Roy to replace him without giving me a chance to train him properly first. The guy is running around like a chicken who’s lost its damn head.”

“This is all my fault. I need to go. I have to—” I mumbled in a panic.

She gripped my arm suddenly. “No. This is your fucking brother’s fault.”

The animosity in her tone surprised me. That, combined with her checking Roy out so blatantly, told me that something was wrong between her and Ollie. “I thought you two were—”

“What? Together?” She scoffed. “That’s done with, babe.”

“What?”

Pain flickered in her eyes briefly, before she managed to collect herself and fake a smile in typical Tiff fashion. She never liked to let anyone see her emotion. Not even me, her best friend. “I can’t be with someone who looks down on me all the time.”

I blinked hard at her words. “Looks down on you? How?”

She breathed a heavy sigh. “Because I’ve…been around. He thinks I’m a slut and he won’t…never mind…forget it.”

“Tiff, you can talk to me.”

She smiled. “I will. I
need
to.” She gestured to the packed bar. “Just not here, you know? I’m trying to keep my shit together.”

“You guys ended it today, huh?”

She nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. We’ll talk later, babe.”

“Okay.”

Before I could say another word, she headed over to Roy who was struggling to mix a couple of drinks.

I had to find Brad. I could only imagine what a state he was in. He’d worked at the bar for years. How the hell was he gonna make ends meet? With the heat he was taking from the town, it wasn’t like anyone else would be willing to hire him. Even Brad’s biggest fans, Doris and Gloria, who were usually always on his side, hadn’t backed him.

No one would go against my brother.

If it came down to a choice between Ollie and
anyone
else in town, Ollie would always win. He was revered for being the responsible, dependable guy, for raising his little sister and taking the weight of his parents’ death on his shoulders. He could do no wrong.

The thing was, he
was
wrong doing what he was to Brad.

Brad had treated me so well. He’d been so sweet, so kind, and so gentle with me. I’d tried so hard to explain that to Ollie that night when he’d found out. But he’d just seen red. All he kept seeing was his best friend being with his little sister—the betrayal there.
Urgh.
It was such ridiculous
guy
mentality.