Page 15 of Obsessed Daddy
“No one.”
“Wow.” He shakes his head. “Must be serious or seriously fucked up if you won’t tell your best buddy.”
“There’s no woman,” I lie for the second time today. “Just got a lot of work to do.”
“Bullshit! I know that face! You’ve got it bad! Who is she?”
I roll my eyes and wet some mud for the sheetrock with the hose on the front porch. “Appreciate you, man, but I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Okay, so you’re fucking some girl you shouldn’t be, aren’t you?” Rhett laughs as he brushes something off his hand. “You’re a fucking mess, dude. Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not a thing,” I say, flicking on the drill to mix the mud before I carry it inside.
“Okay… keeping your secrets from your best buddy? Not cool, man.” He throws up his hands as though he’s frustrated, but we both know the truth. He’s nosier than an old woman.
I can see his damn eyebrow twitching from here, he’s so invested. He really needs something better to do with his time.
“If you feel like talking, why don’t you tell me about this thing with Nathan and the wedding you’re stressing out about?”
He laughs under his breath and turns toward the door, shaking his head slowly. “The guy is an ass, and he doesn’t deserve the girl he’s marrying. They were never right for eachother, and it frustrates me so fucking much.” Rhett waves without looking back. “Let me know what you decide for tonight. The guys and I will be at the bar.”
“You got it,” I groan, knowing full well that would shut him up. “Talk to you later.”
He leaves, though I barely notice it. I’m too focused on the mud, watching the scraper drag down the wall. This is something I can fix. I show up, I do the work, the job gets done. The whole thing makes a hell of a lot more sense than the urges boiling inside of me for Bella. Urges or not, I need to get fucking control of myself.
*****
Main Street is busier than usual tonight. Trucks are stacked along both sides of the road, some half-parked in the ditch, others idling with dogs hanging out the windows. Odds are it’s because there are live bands playing at both the bars tonight.
I have no idea where my buddies have landed, but I figure I’ll look for them first at Mullet’s place. It’s an old redneck bar where the floorboards creak, the beer’s cold, and the regulars usually end up. If they aren’t here, I’ll check the distillery. It’s a newer place, but they’ve got an old moonshine kind of vibe that draws people in.
Music echoes out into the street as I pass by folks wearing late-season flannel and into the brick façade bar that has a scent all its own. It’s a cross between leather and hot wings, with a side note of hops. It’s unmistakable, and as I lean against the polished wood counter, I feel at home.
Considering I’ve been leaning against this very bar for the better part of my life, Ishouldfeel at home. My buddies and I have made more memories here than anywhere else in town. When we’d go on leave, this bar was always the first stop we’d make.
Those days were the best. We’d pile back to the mountain like heroes. The whole town would throw a massive party, and we couldn’t pass a street corner without a nod of thanks or an offer for a homecooked meal. The accolades were nice, but the purpose meant more.
I always knew when we came home from a tour, we’d be out in the field again soon. While on a mission, I knew what I was doing every time we went out. I felt needed, purposeful, essential to the mission. If it weren’t for this damn eye thing, I’d have been out there longer, at least that’s what I thought until yesterday when I saw Bella.
Now, I’m thinking of chapters to my story that were never part of the plan before. Kids, a steady home, and big, family Christmases with an eight-foot pine in the front window, twinkling with colored lights.
You’ve lost it, man. That’s never going to happen.
I need this beer fast or I might start believing some of this shit!
The bartender recognizes my face, gives me a nod of recognition, and slides me a beer like we’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe we have. I’ve forgotten more faces than I remember these days.
Years ago, Mullet the bartender was always the one passing out the drinks. Life was more simple then, easy to predict. There was a comfort in knowing who you were going to talk to every time you came in. Now that he’s retired and only comes back a handful of nights a month, it could be just about anyone behind this bar, and I don’t have the patience to learn the whole staff’s names and personalities.
Hand me my beer and tell me to enjoy the rest of my night. That’s all the interaction we need.
I wrap my hand around the cold bottle and head for the back corner where the lights are lower and the room is quieter soI can scan the room for my buddies. They’re probably in a corner of their own, sucking down hot wings and beer like someone’s going to take them away.
I’m halfway through my sweep of the area, when I see her.
A curvy blonde in a pink dress that looks painted on. She’s talking to some guy who thinks leaning in close counts as charm. She’s even smiling, though I’d gather it’s the polite type given I know what it looks like when she’sactuallysmiling.
Who the fuck is this guy and why is she with him?
