Without the Love

If Jack asked her one more time about the menu, the lighting, or the soda water nozzle she was going to punch him in the throat.

When she had told him, a half an hour before anyone was supposed to arrive, he had laughed before seeing the seriousness in her eyes. He then had retreated into the back office, slamming the door behind him, and leaving her to finish organizing the staff. When he came back out it was with an apology and a promise to relax. Something they could both only do after three a.m. the next morning, when the bar was officially closed for the night.
She now stood, holding a chilled bottle of champagne, with Zack, his wife Noelle, Rian, and Jack surrounding her. The stress, the tension, the anxiety, and the concern had dissipated from her bloodstream the moment Rian had walked into the empty bar, at six on the dot, gathered her in his arms, and congratulated Jack on the atmosphere of the building. Zack and Noelle, quick to follow, had eagerly provided the same sentiments after a tour of the converted space - what used to once be a warehouse for industrial machines was now split into a chic bar, with a loft private area and a sunken dance floor and stage area in the back, and a tastefully decorated urban restaurant. The two businesses were separated by an insulated wall that, after extensive trial runs with one of Jack’s old amps, had proven to be soundproof. The Alehouse, she didn’t agree with Jack’s name but the man wouldn’t budge, looked every bit the dream she and the designers had worked up. And, surrounded by the closest thing to family she had, she couldn’t help but relax.

“All right, all right, we have ten minutes before doors open!” She clapped her hands, drawing to attention the guys from their perch at one of the booths. Noelle handed everyone a champagne flute and the three men got to their feet as Macaria popped open the bottle. The bar staff, kitchen workers, and waitresses all surrounded the small circle of friends as the ‘pop’ of the bottle filled the air. The frothy fluid spilled over her delicate fingers as she held it at arms length, laughing.

Jack waited until each glass was filled, it took another bottle and some struggling on Noelle’s part, his arm flung good naturedly over her slim shoulders, before saying anything. “I would like to raise a toast, to this wonderful woman beside me, to the wonderful crew I now have to sign paychecks for, and to hopefully a killer opening night.”

“Hear hear!” Zack shouted, raising his glass. All around them, the staff followed suit. Rian kissed Macaria’s cheek and shook Jack’s hand; the two women hugged, and Jack finished off the second bottle of champagne himself. At seven, their bouncer, Phil, announced he was opening the door to the crowd already waiting outside. Macaria and Jack exchanged a look of excitement as she ushered bartenders behind the mahogany bar top; suddenly, the menu, the lighting, and the soda nozzle were all perfect.

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Business was better than their marketing campaign, their accountant, and even the PR person Jack had hired for the event had promised. Robert and Alicia, the two bartenders who had been scheduled for the night, had been so overwhelmed that - at only nine - Macaria had left her suit jacket in the office and made her way behind the bar herself. The extra set of hands should have meant that things went a little smoother, instead the three found themselves flooded with drink orders, happy customers, and an anxious Jack trying to lend a hand, twice, before Macaria sent him out to mingle.

She had just gotten back from switching the register when she noticed the sandy haired man sitting at the end of the bar, staring into a pint of beer while people all around him jostled each other, spoke loudly, and bopped along to the live music from the stage. He was tracing the rim with long fingers, the shading of a large tattoo on his hand visible as he finger swiped. Robert bumped into her as she stared, quickly uttering an apology before shuffling off. Jostled back into reality, she slammed the money bag in the safe under the bar and ducked behind Alicia in the hope that he hadn’t seen her. She was going to kill Jack.

“You okay?” Alicia asked as she leaned over Macaria to grab a bottle of rum off the back shelf.

The woman shook her head in irritation, her gaze locked on the other end of the bar. Alex was sitting completely still, his finger no longer moving along the rim of his glass. His dark gaze was fixated on her; somber, glossed over, but full of something she couldn’t place.
“Shit. No. I have to. Yeah.” She ducked out from behind the bar and immersed herself into the crowd of people. A couple of men tried to flag her down, probably to dance or to buy her a drink, or to grope her because honestly she wouldn’t have been surprised, but she darted between their advances and the groups of people as fast as possible. Jack was no where in sight as she made her escape from the bar, and it was better that he wasn’t. Macaria wasn’t sure how well she would have fared if she had seen her best friend at that moment in time.
Upon escaping into the cool night air she felt the anxiety slip away from her chest. It was definitely cooler outside, and although the streetlights didn’t provide much illumination they were still easier to see through than the hazy lights in the bar. She found a quiet corner in the packed parking lot and sank down against the building, the cold pavement chilling her ass and legs as she sat on the ground, her head in her hands.

She wasn’t going to let herself cry, no more tears were going to be shed over Alex. Not tonight. Not ever again. She had to scold herself as she caught her breath - it hadn’t been the proud moment she had always thought seeing him again would be. She hadn’t marched up to him, told him to go fuck himself, and prove that she was a hundred times better off without him in her life. She hadn’t been on the arm of some gorgeous, successful doctor, or lawyer, or banker, as she had replayed the scene numerous times in her head. She wasn’t dressed in a ballgown or sporting a super chic outfit, nor was she dressed in her skirt suits and tailored jackets that she loved to wear to the office.She had been...herself. Standing behind the bar in Jack’s establishment, probably looking like a hot mess because of the rush of people and the commotion of the opening. And she had fallen apart at the seams when she saw him.

“So much for being strong,” she sniffed into her knees, pounding a fist on the pavement. Seeing Alex had ripped something fresh open in her chest, the same wound that had been startled when she found the record. But she couldn’t let it get to her. Not tonight. He didn’t hold any power over her anymore. “Get back in there,” she told herself as she climbed to her feet and adjusted the ridiculously low cut top she had chosen for the occasion, and reentered the noise of the bar with her head held high.

Notes

Hey guys!

Sorry it's been two weeks since I've been on here; I decided to try and take part in NaNoWriMo this year (national novel writing month) so my adult fiction has been taking up all of my free time. Not that, as a senior in college, I actually have any free time. But still.

Anyways...

Stay tuned because this weekend we'll be seeing how Alex feels about the exact same moment.

AND we'll get to see Jack's views on the situation - speaking of which, anybody mad at Jack for not telling Macaria that Alex was going to be there? I wonder why he didn't tell her... ;)

This chapter's song is "You Don't Do It For Me Anymore" by Demi Lovato
As always, thanks for reading!

-x.o.x.o. M.T.