Page 10 of The Quit List
Jax polishes off his glass of wine, and then stands. “I gotta get back to work.” He’s looking down at me with a strange expression that’s somewhere between amused and bemused. “You got a safe ride home?”
I wave my phone at him. “My Lyft awaits. And my driver has a five-star rating so I assume she’s not the Hillside Strangler. Or on the sex offender list.”
“Stay clear of unmarked white vans on your way outside and you should be fine.”
I give him a little salute as I get to my feet. “Roger that.”
“Oh, one more thing before you go…”
Without waiting for my response, he jogs off behind a couple of swinging black doors that must lead into the bistro’s back of house. This would be the perfect time to escape Jax and his judgy stares, but I find myself waiting obediently, curiosity getting the best of me.
A few moments later, he reappears holding a pale blue box.
I blink at him. “What’s that?”
“You always end your dates with cheesecake.” He presses the box into my hands and looks at me kindly. Too kindly.
“That’s… more than a little weird that you know that.”
“I think the words you are looking for are ‘thank you.’” He smiles like he’s thoroughly amused.
“Oh, yes. Weird, but also thank you,” I say, trying not to think about the fact that he’s probably picturing me going home and sob-eating the cheesecake with a giant serving spoon while watching Bridget Jones’s Diary. Which isn’t my plan at all.
If anything, it’ll be He’s Just Not That Into You—AKA the story of my life.
“Good luck, Holly. It was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise.” I’m surprised to realize that I kind of mean it. “And thank you for saving me from Keith.”
“His name was Keith?”
I nod. He sighs.
“Do me one favor, Holly?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I owe you one.”
“Do better.”
4
JAX
I stay out of other people’s business, as a general rule. Keep my opinions and problems to myself and trust that those around me will do the same.
But sometimes, it gets to be more than a man can take, and you get to the point where you’re obliged—forced, really—to step in. Save someone from a situation and/or from themself.
“What was that?” Dante—who does the opposite of staying out of other people’s business, as a general rule—leans his elbows on the bar, looking at me with big bug eyes.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug as I scan the next drink order and pour two pints of beer and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
When I started this shift a few hours ago, my plan was simply to get through it in relative peace and quiet, stop at home to pick up my dog and my things, and then head to the cabin for my weekend. Usually, if I can leave Atlanta by 2AM, I can get there sometime before dawn and watch the sunrise. In peace.
But unfortunately, the "peace and quiet" I was hoping for on this shift has been totally derailed first by Morris’s phone call, then by Holly-the-bad-dater, and now, by Dante's clearly incoming line of questioning.
Because, for some reason, he takes my non-committal response as a cue to keep talking.
“I’ve never seen you help a customer like that before.”