Stay or Go Page 3

  “Like?” Jax prompted. She leaned closer to me while she waited for my answer.

  “I go for a run every day.” I threw out the comment quickly, hoping to defuse the discussion.

  “Alone.”

  “I work here,” I offered up. “With people.” I motioned to the table of my ‘friends.’ I used the term loosely. Right now, they were anything but.

  “You hole up in the office and ignore people.”

  “But they are here, too, so I’m not alone.” Point for Team Regan. “I go out with you sometimes.”

  “You do. You sit there while I carry the conversation,” Jax said.

  “That’s not true.” I sat up straighter in my chair, preparing to defend myself more.

  “It is, but that’s beside the point.” Jax waved it away.

  “What is your point?” I asked.

  “Admit those are zombie-like behaviors. You are physically in places, but mentally gone.” Jax circled her finger next to her temple as she spoke.

  “Fine. I’m a zombie.” I admitted the fault, but quickly tried to justify it. “I had the rug pulled out from under me. I needed time to adjust.”

  “You’ve had time.”

  “Okay. My time is over. I won’t be a zombie anymore.” In our rush of words, I leaned forward, putting my weight on the table. My voice used inflection and became heated with the argument. I felt my blood pumping through me, a feeling I was loath to admit was absent in my life lately.

  “You aren’t a zombie anymore,” Jax said.

  “Your logic is making my head spin.” I looked to Anais and Peter for help, but they both seemed content to let Jax have the floor.

  “You stopped being a zombie the minute you met Gray. I was here, remember?” Jax pointed to the bar behind her while she spoke. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear before continuing. “For the first time, in months, you laughed with your whole body while you spoke to him. You made jokes and told stories. You had a bounce in your step. You danced to the music playing. You were you. Finally.”

  “Then you,” I pointed at Jax, “should be happy to have me back. Instead, you are pushing me out the door. Out of the country, even!”

  “You aren’t back. You’ve been moody and mean the closer Gray’s departure came. To us, anyway. The ones that will be left here with you. Admit it, you don’t want to let him go.”

  “I like him. I admit that.”

  “Well, like him in Costa Rica.”

  “Maybe I will,” I said the words like a child. I wanted not to mean them, but I feared it was more of a Freudian slip of the tongue. My true desire slipped out unchecked.

  Peter chose this moment to join the conversation. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, he jumped on them. His arm tensed and his finger pointed at my mouth.

  “Gotcha! I knew you wanted this!” Peter said.

  “Who wouldn’t want it, Peter?” I threw my arms out to the side, challenging him as I spoke. “A smart, funny, insanely hot man asked me to live in Costa Rica with him for three months. Who wouldn’t want to wake up on the beach every day? Learn to surf? Read a book in a hammock? Who wouldn’t?”

  “Name one thing that is stopping you. Just one.” Peter held up his index finger. “Just one, Regan.”

  “Where would I work?” I started with the obvious since we were sitting in my place of employment now.

  “I can answer that.” The fellow sitting at the bar stood up. “Aren’t you a bartender?”

  “Yeah, so.”

  “There’s always bars where I travel. You can practice now and get me another beer.” He waved his empty bottle towards me.

  I jumped up and went to fetch him another. I hoped in my absence the little party would break apart, but they all stayed planted in their seats. I took my time ringing in the beer and making change for the patron. I made a big show of throwing away his empty bottle and wiping the bar around him. I placed a menu next to him in case he decided to soak up some of the alcohol with food. When I ran out of excuses, I moved back to the table as quickly as I would walking a plank.

  “Well, I think we took care of the work objection.” Peter looked pleased with himself. One day, he was going to break his own arm trying to pat himself on the back.

  “It answered nothing,” I said. “I have a job here.”

  Anais sat forward, joining the conversation. “You’re fired.”

  Chapter Six

  12:12 P.M.

  “What? I didn’t . . . what?” I stammered, at a complete loss for words. I felt my world tip at the words.

  “It is not an objection anymore, darling,” Anais said. Peter and Jax tried to hide their giggles behind their hands.

  “You’re really firing me?” I asked.

  “It is for your own good.” With Anais’s French accent, the comment almost sounded like a compliment.

  “I like working here.”

  “And, we like you here, dear, but it’s time to go, to move on,” Anais said. She reached across the table and rubbed my arm while she spoke.

  Peter took over the conversation from his mother. He turned sideways in his seat and took my hands in his.

  “Regan, this actually comes at a good time for us. We can’t afford you any longer. Mother and I have been discussing asking you to move back to bartending full-time, but we didn’t know how.”

  “Who will do your paperwork?” I asked. “You hate it.”

  “Mother will work for now. She did the books for years.” I sought the truth in Peter’s eyes. They were clear as he looked back at me. He really couldn’t afford me but was afraid to ask me to move jobs. I kissed him on the cheek.

  “I’ll go back to bartending full-time,” I said.

  “No, dear, you won’t. You’re still fired,” Anais said.

  “Anais, why do you think I should go on this trip so badly?”

  “Regan, I would miss you while you were gone, I would.”

  “But?”

  “Sometimes a problem needs to be faced head-on, and sometimes problems need some distance and time. You’ve had time, now it’s time for the distance. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?” Anais asked.

  “Not in the least bit.” Why was everyone talking in circles today?

  “I think,” Peter said, “she’s trying to tell you the city has too many memories in it. You need distance from it. You need to be able to breathe, to choose what you want to do and where you want to go next. Without the safety net of us and this place.”

  The idea of leaving Chicago was growing on me more and more. I realized just because I left didn’t mean I couldn’t come back. I took a tentative step toward the idea of running off with Gray.

  “If I go, would you give me a job when I come back?”

  “If you wanted one,” Peter said.

  Knowing I wouldn’t be leaving Anais and Peter in a pinch took a lot of stress off me. Knowing I could walk back into a job took the rest of it off. I still had a few more questions, but the idea of jumping on a plane tonight seemed more realistic.

  Peter, Anais, and Jax shared looks while I thought. We could’ve heard a pin drop, everyone was so still awaiting my answer. Even the bar customer was turned in his chair staring at our table. I looked at each of them. These three picked me up when Ben left. Peter gave me a place to live until I got on my feet again and found my own apartment. He gave me my job. He did it out of the blue. He had no more of an idea that I was going to need the help than I did, but Peter still stepped up and offered. This time he was offering the help knowing what he’d be getting into.

  I wouldn’t admit it to her, but Jax was right. I was a zombie when we went out, and I had been since Ben. Her abundance of energy had carried our conversations. Her enthusiasm made up for my lacking, but in the last two weeks, I hadn’t needed her energy to feel motivated or happy. I’d felt almost whole on my own.

  “Well?” Peter asked. Everyone sat forward in anticipation.

  “I’m not quite saying yes,”
I said. Anais, Jax, and Peter erupted in cheers. The three of them crowded around me for a group hug. “I didn’t say yes!”

  Nobody heard me, or if they did, they didn’t care. Our new friend joined in on the celebration, hugging and jumping around with us.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “There are still questions we need to answer.”

  “Everyone, sit,” Peter said. He waved his hands up and down, motioning us back into our chairs. “You, too.” He motioned to the bar patron to join us. Bill introduced himself with handshakes and waves. Peter brought Bill up on the full story.

  “What’s the problem, now?” Peter asked.

  “We still have a lot of unanswered questions,” I said.

  Bill pointed to me while he looked at Peter. “She’s an overthinker, isn’t she?”

  Peter wavered before answering. “She’s confused. The wild side of her loves the daring and adventure, but the nerdy side of her likes to crunch the numbers.”

  “I’m sitting right here,” I said, looking between them.

  “Yes, Regan, we see you. What are your unanswered questions?”

  Chapter Seven

  12:42 P.M.

  I hesitated before picking a question to start with. As far as importance, work came first. Peter and Anais had taken care of that problem. My second biggest worry was my apartment. I held up a finger, indicating that I needed a minute. I pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on the table and a pen from my shirt pocket.

  I quickly wrote down how much money I had in savings subtracting out three months’ worth of rent. It left me enough to buy a pack of gum.

  “I can’t afford to pay for my apartment and eat in Costa Rica,” I said.

  “Why would you pay for your apartment?” Jax asked.

  “Because I’m on a lease,” I spoke slowly like she was a small child.

  Jax waved her hand at me in annoyance.

  “Have you heard of Craigslist?” Jax asked. She returned the sarcasm, it dripped off the question.

  “Why are you worried about your apartment?” Peter asked. “What if you are only gone a week?”

  “Well, I think I should plan for long-term contingencies, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think you should plan for anything. Just go. Let us handle this stuff,” Peter said.

  “Peter—" I started

  “Okay, I’ll humor you. We’d go with Jax’s plan,” Peter said.

  “Craigslist?” I asked. Jax had her head bent over her phone, probably checking any texts from the men in her life.

  “Sure. You have a great place. We could have it rented within hours.”

  “What if it's rented and I come back?”

  “You stay with me,” Peter said.

  “Or me. I have an extra room,” Jax said.

  “It’s your art studio,” I countered to Jax.

  “No biggie, I could move it to the living room.”

  “I got a friend needs a place,” Bill offered up. “Phil’s real clean, too.”

  Great. I could come home to Phil and Bill drinking Budweisers in their tighty-whities surrounded by a clean apartment. I ignored his suggestion.

  “Where would I put my furniture?” I asked.

  “Leave it. We’d rent the apartment furnished. All we’d have to do is clear out your personal belongings,” Jax said. She didn’t even look up from her phone as she talked. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, never hesitating in their movements.

  “Okay.” I dragged out the word. I pictured my apartment now. I didn’t admit it to them, but most of my personal belongings—knick-knacks, pictures, and random stuff—were still boxed up. I just hadn’t gotten around to really moving into my place fully. It was a benefit now.

  “What about my boxes of stuff?” I asked.

  “We’ll stick them in the storage space downstairs,” Peter said.

  “Don’t you ever hesitate with an answer?” I asked.

  “No hesitation needed when you know everything.” Peter smirked at me. “Let’s recap. You’re a bartender so you can work anywhere in the world. We fired you, so you have no job keeping you here. We have a plan for your apartment to cover your rent. I think we’ve covered everything.”

  Two women walked into the restaurant. Peter greeted them warmly, standing to escort them to a table. Peter sat them as far away from us as possible. Probably out of fear that I’d have a freakout and cause a scene.

  Jax’s phone vibrated against the tabletop as Peter rejoined us. She looked at her screen and punctuated her yippee with an air punch. “We just got a response about your apartment.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “On Craigslist. I used photos from my phone and made an ad.”

  “Why do you have photos of my apartment?”

  “I don’t. It’s just a bunch of pics of us, but the apartment is in the background.”

  “You can’t rent out my apartment. I’m still here!” I said.

  “I know. Chill. I’m just getting some interest going.” Jax tapped the screen while she spoke. “That way it will be easier to rent when you finally give in and go.”

  “What if I do go? But, I come back in one week?” I asked again. It was nice that Jax and Peter both offered up their spare bedrooms, but I really liked having my own space.

  “I’ve already figured that out, too.” Jax waved her hand at me like she was shooing a fly. “In the ad, I offered it as an executive apartment.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” I said.

  “Corporations rent out furnished places near their businesses or near transportation. CEOs and other bigwigs rent them by the week or month when they are visiting. Better return on the investment, too.”

  Better return?

  “This may make me money?” The thought that I might make an income off my place had never occurred to me. I’d assumed it would rent out for the same amount I already paid.

  “Sure. You have a great apartment with a great location. I’m going to list it, too, on Airbnb. We could get two-fifty a night for it.”

  “Wait a minute. I pictured just subletting it. Ya know, charging what I pay.”

  Jax and Peter looked at me like I had sprouted a corn stalk off my forehead.

  “I can see the error of my ways,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. I pulled out my own phone and started Googling Costa Rica’s cost of living. As I flipped my way through several websites, I averaged the amounts in my head based on region. I added in a ten-percent buffer for incidentals. I could live rather comfortably on roughly fifteen-hundred per month.

  “What kind of money do you think I’ll make off the apartment?” I asked, the idea sliding from a solid-maybe to a possible-yes.

  Jax bobbled her head back and forth before answering. “Maybe eight hundred-ish per month.”

  My yes deflated before my eyes. “Oh.”

  Peter picked up on my mood, asking, “Why?”

  “I was just toying with the idea, but the Google says I’ll need more than that each month.” I shrugged my shoulders. Not in defeat, but close to it. Now that the idea had taken hold, I was reluctant to let go of it.

  “You’ll still have your savings,” Peter said. The light bulb began to spark again, flickering on and off.

  “I’d forgotten. In my head, I still had it earmarked to pay for my apartment.” I sat up straighter, a financial plan unfolding before me. I had the return ticket I could use at any time. I had some income. I had a savings account buffer.

  “What am I forgetting?” I asked.

  “To have a good time,” Peter said.

  “I’m saving that for when I’m there.”

  Chapter Eight

  1:20 P.M.

  “To pack. I’m forgetting I need to pack!” Jax and I jumped up from our seats. I waved my arms in the air, preparing to take flight. “How am I going to pack so fast?” I looked at my watch. “I don’t even get off work until five, and I need to be at the airport by five.”

  Peter took control of the
situation by whistling with two fingers in his mouth. I shrank down and covered my ears with my hands. The sound penetrated my brain down to the core but was effective. Both Jax and I stopped flailing around like morons.

  “Regan, you’re fired, remember? So, technically, you are off work now.” Peter looked back and forth, scanning the room. “Seth!”

  Seth appeared seconds later like a puppy dog ready to please. He was such a suck up. I rolled my eyes at Jax. She stifled a giggle. Peter tossed his keys to Seth.

  “You are officially a bartender, now,” Peter said. “Can you handle it until I get back?”

  I looked around the room. Other than the guy at the bar and the two women on the patio, the place was deserted. A toddler could’ve handled the running of the restaurant.

  “Mother will be here to handle any managerial problems. Got it?” Peter asked.

  Seth bopped his head up and down, swallowing audibly before standing straight at attention. “I—I can do it.” I half expected Seth to salute as he spoke.

  The front door opened admitting another delivery of liquor and beers. Alcohol suppliers in Chicago were not allowed to sell every product, resulting in multiple vendors being used by restaurants and bars. I waved to Carl, our regular delivery guy. I stood to check in the order, but Peter motioned to me he would do it. “Go gather your things from here. I don’t know when you’ll be back.” He winked at me before turning to the delivery.

  I went to the office and hurriedly checked the drawers and cubbies for any personal items. I gathered my purse, lip balms, lotion, and my favorite pen, shoving them all into my bag. I took a moment to look around the office one last time. I knew I was being melodramatic, but my gut told me I wouldn’t be working here anymore. My future was unsure, but the safety net of O’Kelly’s pub was at an end for me.

  I sat down in the desk chair and called my sister Peyton. The phone barely rang before she picked it up. I yelled in her ear before she could even say hello.

  “I’m doing it!”

  “Why are you wasting time talking to me? I know you have a thousand things to do.”