Bar Hopping for Singles

By Shepherd

Annie: My life isn't exactly going how I imagined it would. But still, being a thirty-year-old bartender-actress with murky career prospects does have some perks. One, I work with one of my childhood best friends, River, and live within walking dist

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terrileigh Pellarin
• Release date: Oct 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986865317

Book preview

Prologue

2015

Annie

What do you think?

It’s not your best work, Riv, I answer seriously, biting the inside of my cheek as I look at the sign River has hung outside our ground-floor apartment. The sign is not something I’d hang. It’s hand-written on white paper in black marker, and he ran out of space, so the T and the Y almost fall off the page. It reads:

Back To School Party

The ledge that he’s hung it on is concrete and the tape doesn’t stick. River, ever the problem solver, has folded the upper third of the sign and placed two of my potted cacti on top of it, one on each corner.

But it grabs your attention?

Yes? I don’t know what he’s going for with the sign, so I give him the answer he wants to hear. Truth: The sign is the least important thing about our annual Back to School Party. And the drinks and the music, well, I organized those.

River steps back out of the flower bed to survey his handiwork. Placing his hands on his skinny hips, he squints and slowly starts turning his head to the side. River, I laugh, it’s not going to look better from another angle. Just leave it.

"I don’t care how it looks. I just don’t want anyone to knock on Mrs. Silverstone’s door again."

Mnn, good point. Before our last party River accidentally fat-thumbed our neighbor’s apartment number into his phone. Which then got copy-pasted in text messages all over campus. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if our neighbor had been a fellow student, or, even, just younger than seventy-two. But poor Mrs. Silverstone was up all night, standing at the door in her pink, toweling nightgown and ratty slippers, fielding our lost guests and redirecting them one door over.

Our only saving grace is that she happens to like us because River looks after her cat, Tubs, for free when she goes to visit her daughter and grandson. And, after the Disaster Party, we always ask her if she needs us to pick up anything for her when we go to the store. Did you get her kitty litter? I ask River now, remembering that it was the only thing she wanted.

Yup, I dropped it earlier when I went over to warn her that some people would be coming over.

I nod, relieved, and moving forward to where River is standing, put my arm around his waist. But when his hot, wet sweat soaks through his shirt and touches my skin, I drop my arm and make an exaggerated gagging sound. Ew! Dude!

River turns his head slowly. I have three slow seconds to recognize his evil grin and think, Shit. And then I start to run, my squeal of terror loud and genuine.

I don’t get very far.

When River catches me, he flips me over his shoulder and slaps me on the ass. River! His bony shoulder presses into my diaphragm, but I still manage to wheeze, Put me down!

He doesn’t listen.

He never listens.

He starts around the building to the front door of our apartment, every jagged step choking off my air supply. His right arm is looped over the backs of my knees, locking my legs in place and preventing me from kicking out. Balling both my hands into fists, I pummel his back as hard as I can.

"Weak."

River laughs, forcing me to release a sputtering chuckle of my own. Asshole, I mutter under my breath.

I thought women liked being carried?

Ah, by hunky firemen. Or-

The sound of someone clearing their voice behind us has me biting off the rest of my explanation. Placing both my hands on River’s back, I lever myself up to stare at our first arrivals.

River’s older brother, Geo, and his best friend, Ox, are standing side-by-side staring at us. Geo is grinning. Ox looks worried.

Hi, guys! I squeak, humiliation forcing my voice into a high pitch.

River turns around, swinging me in the opposite direction and giving the boys a full view of my jean-clad ass. "River. Put. Me. Down."

But he just pats my bum condescendingly.

We’ve seen you guys naked in the bath together, Geo points out, coming closer. Nothing could be worse than that.

We were three! I argue, twisting my neck back to try and see.

This is definitely worse, Ox insists. River, put Annie down. His deep voice echoes with authority.

River must sense this too because he huffs out a longsuffering breath and deposits me on my feet again.

Ow. Leaning over, I rub my stomach where his shoulder was settled. You’re too bony to do that, I say, knowing it’s a soft spot for him.

I thought your curves would cushion you.

I gasp and punch his arm as hard as I can.

River doesn’t flinch. He grins at me.

Annie. Geo steps between us, shoving his little brother out the way so that he can fold me in a hug. He gives me a squeeze. I’ve missed you.

I’ve missed you too. I hug him back with genuine affection, not hesitating to wrap my arms around his lean frame.

Before he steps away, he whispers, Keep your wrist firm. And instead of punching, stick him with the knuckle of your index finger.

I don’t get a hug? River asks, holding out his arms. From my own brother?

Geo turns to River. You get a shower. I thought you said eight o’clock. It’s eight-ten.

"You guys are so old. This is college. Nobody’s on time."

"We’ve been out of college for four years, Geo argues with River. We still know how it works."

Neeeerds! River bellows, holding his hand up like a megaphone.

I roll my eyes, sharing the sibling-like frustration with Geo, before stepping up to Ox. Hi, Ox. Wrapping my arms around his huge frame, I nestle my face into his shoulder. His body is solid and warm, and he always smells so good.

Hi, Annie. His huge palm barely makes contact as he pats me quickly on the back. The awkwardness of the gesture makes me think he’s only just realized I’ve grown into a woman with actual breasts.

I step back first, aware of how uncomfortable he is. But I take a long moment to look at him once I’ve given him some space. He’s changed a lot since I saw him back home for Christmas. I think he’s lost some weight, or if possible grown taller. That can’t be right, but, still, his towering six-three frame has me tipping my chin to meet soft, blue eyes. He’s grown a beard. It makes him look older. But also weirdly sophisticated. Throw in the dark blue jeans and white button-down, he looks every damn bit the successful corporate employee my mother swears he’s become. "You look amazing."

He blushes slightly, his ears turning red.

"How come you didn’t tell me that?" Behind me, Geo feigns insult.

I don’t want it to go to your head, pretty boy, I reply instantly, used to the banter.

River sniggers.

Geo just laughs.

The Jameson brothers know they’re pretty. They both inherited their dad’s ebony hair and their mom’s blue eyes. Where River, with his signature, tight skinny jeans and tee-shirt, looks like a typical—somewhat starved—college student, Geo is the male model in charcoal suit pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

As Geo and River bicker about something behind us, I loop my arm through Ox’s and lead him into the apartment.

New place? he asks.

Mhnn, we’ve lived here for about a year now. I give him the two-minute tour.

He trails after me, commenting on little things he notices. Like the fact that River still has the same posters from high school taped on his bedroom wall—a classic and juvenile mix of musicians and semi-nude women. And the pretty burnt orange accent wall I painted in the hallway. He chuckles when he sees the photos of the four of us neatly lining the hallway wall.

He’s like…a grown-up now, and I can’t help but notice all the new ways that we’re different. I’m a college senior who lives in an apartment my parents pay for. I have a hand-written party sign being held up by cacti outside, and my roommate is my childhood best friend who I used to bathe with. While Ox is dressed like an adult male, I’m wearing black jeans and a tight, red tee-shirt that has PONG de Replay typed in huge letters over my boobs…I wish I’d thought that through.

We come to a halt in the lounge, my mind still pointing out all the swirling differences between us. The stark contrast is new and inescapable, and for the first time ever I’m conscious of not knowing what to say to him. I smile awkwardly, but my face feels stiff and unfamiliar.

How’s your mom doing? Ox asks in an attempt to make small talk.

The question surprises me because, surely, he’s heard all my news through The Mom Network. She’s good. The same. Still calls me almost every goddamn day wanting to know if I’m in trouble. Or dating. I squint up at him. She has an uncanny interest in my love life.

When Ox laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners. My mom tells me she talks about your grades a lot. All As last semester?

Incessantly. I shake my head, embarrassed that he knows how I’m doing in school. It’s humiliating, I mumble.

Good grades are embarrassing? He tilts his head, that familiar half-smile on his lips. This smile is the same one that would cue me that I was being teased as a kid. It’s like he’s waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for me to quip back.

"Ox, I’m a theater major. Good grades are awesome, but when she talks about them, people invariably wind up thinking I’m pre-med or applied mathematics. I tip my head. I acted Hamlet’s soliloquy for my last big final."

Without hesitation, Ox starts, "To be, or not to be--that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them…"

When he sees my wide-eyed delight, he laughs; it’s deep and genuine. It’s a laugh that makes you feel as if you’ve earned it. Lucy used to teach a lot of Shakespeare, he explains.

I notice how he rubs the back of his neck, self-conscious to have shared that much. Wanting to reciprocate—like an adult—I ask, How’s Lucy doing?

Ah, good. I think. We broke up a while ago, he explains.

Shit. I rub my forehead. Sorry.

He shrugs. Living apart didn’t work for us after college. She tried to visit Los Angeles a few times, but…

She didn’t like it?

Hated it.

I imagine quiet, studious Lucy Spool trying to make a go of it in LA and find that I’m unsurprised. And you?

I love it, he replies honestly. More than my ex-girlfriend, apparently.

Well, that’s good, I say, latching onto the common ground I’ve found. Because when Riv and I arrive next year, we’re going to need the full tour.

"You guys are coming? To LA?"

You didn’t know about this? When he shakes his head, I add, Wow, The Mom Network is slacking. And it’s true. Our moms are thick as thieves. Usually, our news travels to each other via them at record speed.

This is great…When did you decide?

Around Christmas last year. We had a little freak-out about senior year approaching and what we were going to do afterward.

And the natural conclusion was to move somewhere, together? There’s that half-smile again.

Don’t tease! But I laugh at his expression. Where else is a wannabe actress with no singing skills supposed to start a career? And River and I…We work together, you know?

He doesn’t smile at that. His brows draw together. Are you two…?

I gasp, horrified by the notion. Ew! No!....Ox! I punch his arm lightly. That’s a horrible thing to suggest. A full-body shudder passes through me at the thought.

Ox laughs that deep laugh of his and turns to look at where River is explaining a keg stand to Geo as if he and Ox weren’t ever boys in college. He is standing, his body angled a little away from me. His hands are in his pockets, his broad shoulders bunched, and I can’t help but notice all the ways he’s changed. He’s always been that big, awkward guy, the one who’s tripping over his own feet and hurting himself. But now he’s less self-conscious. More…I don’t know, really…just more.

He catches me looking at him. Do I have something on my face? He swipes at his beard.

No. I’ve just missed you guys.

I’ve missed you too, Annie.

I smile at how genuine his reply is and open my mouth to say more, but the doorbell rings, cutting off any further attempt at catching up.

Without thinking, I huff out a breath, suddenly dreading the evening ahead of me.

Are you going to get that? he asks.

I’m thinking about it.

I don’t have to think much; River bolts past me to answer it himself.

He hasn’t showered.

He hasn’t changed his clothes.

He doesn’t care.

He opens the door with a flourish, flinging out his arms. "Welcome to the Back to School Party!"

There’s a little cheer as the three first arrivals walk in. I don’t know any of them, so I don’t move to greet them as River guides them in, first, to where all the hard liquor is on a table by the kitchenette, then to our guest bathroom where the huge bathtub has been filled with ice and beers.

Is he going to do that every time the doorbell rings?

Most likely.

Ox chuckles, and I have the strangest urge to put my hand on his chest to capture the deep rumble of it.

But I don’t.

Because that would be super weird.

Ox

I knew it. The moment that Geo mentioned we’d be stopping in to visit Annie and River for the night, I knew our layover would end in disaster. It always does when Annie and River are involved. Still…this isn’t quite how I imagined it going down.

The crowd is quiet around us, waiting for River’s turn to throw the ping pong ball into one of our last three cups. Geo is standing on my end of the table, his face set in a mask of intense concentration that almost matches River’s.

The apartment smells like spilled beer and grape vape smoke, and the combination works with the copious booze I’ve ingested, making me feel a little queasy. Bodies…so many bodies crowd the room, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs.

There’s a girl behind me who keeps brushing up against me, and, as much as I’m sure she doesn’t mean to, it’s happened often enough that it’s suspect. She’s a small brunette, wearing a tight mini-dress and sneakers like a true college student. Like a kid, I think, and take a small step forward, out of her space.

River takes a deep breath and mimics the trajectory of his throw. Like an Olympian athlete, he thrives off the crowd’s attention. Annie is standing next to him. She has her arms crossed under her breasts, one hip cocked. She’s wearing a look of fond exasperation as she watches River. Her long, black hair cascades down either side of her face, almost to her waist. Her dark brown eyes are focused. Intense.

It was weird there for a moment when we first arrived. I’ve never known Annie to be self-conscious. Awkward, yes. Always. But self-conscious…never. It’s something I’ve always admired about her, the way that she just owns her quirks and expects that people will too. And they do. Everyone loves Annie. She’s funny and easy to talk to—which is why I wasn’t quite sure how to handle her momentary shyness.

She must sense my gaze because she shifts her head to look at me. Our eyes meet, and, for a little lapse in time, the world slows, and the air thickens. Then she squints at me mock-competitively and mouths, Bring it on.

I just shake my head, happy that we seem to have fallen back into our old comfort zone.

River makes the shot, getting the ball in our far-right solo cup. The crowd roars their approval.

Geo drinks the tepid beer, grimacing as he swallows.

We’re playing standard Beirut pong for the most part, alternating which team and which player goes. No re-racking. No replacements.

Geo and Annie both take their turns. The mood in the room alternates between silence and roars. I can see a guy in the corner. He’s a young, white kid with a patchy mustache. He’s wearing a cheap suit jacket with jeans. He’s got sunglasses on even though we’re inside. At night. And he’s providing a running commentary of the game like we’re at the Kentucky Derby.

I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But then it’s my turn, so I grab the ball, aim, and—before I can let the nerves get to me—I throw. The ping pong ball sails in a smooth arc, plopping into one of Annie and River’s last two cups with a perfect pop. The crowd cheers. Geo slaps my back. When Annie raises the cup to her lips, I mouth, Game on.

She laughs and sputters, then starts choking a little. But she’s smiling the entire time.

We each have one cup left. It’s River and Geo last to play. Standard rules favor the team that’s first to get their opponents' cups off the table. So, if River gets this shot, they’ve won.

The excitement in the air is palpable. River holds up the ball and aims. The room falls quiet, except for Kanye’s song, ‘Runaway’, which pulses out of a single speaker in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, River drops his arms and shouts, House Rules!

His party friends must know what this means because they roar. I look at Geo. He just shrugs.

River comes around the table to us. If I get this shot and you get yours, we play another game as a tiebreaker.

Geo nods. From a competition perspective, it doesn’t make much sense. River is giving us a chance to win even though he and Annie are one throw ahead. He’s reading the room and extending the game.

Knowing the crowd is something River has always been good at. He’s able to feed off the energy in a way that I’ve always envied. It’s why, even though he’s majoring in math, he wants to pursue a career as a musician. While he is a great musician, I have no doubt he'll make it big because he’s a goddamn exceptional performer.

Geo looks at me, one eyebrow raised in question. I shrug. Sure. I’m six-three and two-sixty. I’m barely tipsy. But Geo, Riv, and Annie must be close to trashed. If they can do it, I can do it…Probably.

Having pumped the crowd with the news, River goes back and takes his shot. He makes it with a clean, sailing throw.

But then so does Geo.

Tiebreaker! River yells.

And then the room is filled with a chorused chant, coming from a hundred college kids. Tiebreaker! Tiebreaker! Tiebreaker!

I’m getting too old for this shit. That’s what I’m thinking when Annie comes up beside me. Not scared, are you?

She angles her head to look up at me. Her eyes, usually as dark as melted chocolate, are lit with humor. I clear my throat. The admission—that I’m petrified—is on the tip of my tongue. But I scoff. Please. I can take anything you guys throw at me.

Oh, really? Her eyes track over my body as if she’s assessing the competition.

My muscles tense a little under her casual perusal. The feeling is disconcerting, so I stare her down, exaggeratedly narrowing my eyes instead of dwelling on my inexplicable discomfort. Bring it. I can see her lips wobbling on a laugh, so cross my arms over my chest too, mirroring her stance. "Unless you’re too scared?"

Annie snorts, giving in her to laugh. I smile.

She’s changed a lot since I saw her last. Her long black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin have me thinking that if she does ever land a movie role, it should be for a Snow White retelling. If anything, she’s more beautiful than ever before. If I didn’t clearly remember the scrawny kid she was just a few years ago, I’d be mumbling and stumbling awkwardly over my words now.

I don’t dwell on all the ways she’s grown up for long because then River is back. And he’s holding a bright pink pogo stick.

What the fuck?

Pogo Prance, he says, grinning. "Take a shot, pogo across the room to your teammate without falling off. They do the same but pogo back to the finish line. The team to finish the fastest wins. River smirks. And if you fall off, you have to start at the beginning with the clock still running."

The hoots and catcalls from the college kids fade as the blood drains from my face. Actual athletic activities were not part of this deal. In fact, I’m pretty certain that athletics are the antithesis of drinking games. My face is calm. But I feel a little sick. I’m a grown man with the coordination of a toddler; there’s no way I can do anything on a pogo stick without breaking a bone.

I look at Geo, hoping to convey my panic. But he’s grinning like the Joker. He’s excited. Does he not remember that I broke my nose playing intramural football?

Just as I’m about to swallow my fear and agree to goddamn Pogo Prance, I look up at Annie. She’s watching me. But she’s not gloating. She’s frowning. I open my mouth to joke about the situation, but nothing comes out.

I forfeit. Her voice rings clearly through the room.

"What?" River says, his voice laced with stunned disbelief.

The crowd falls into a hush around us.

River, I am a grown woman with a D-cup chest. If you think I’m bouncing around on a pogo stick in front of a room full of people, you’re out of your fucking mind.

"Annie. River can clearly not believe what he’s hearing. He mutters something that I don’t quite catch, but it sounds like he said, Hashtag twenty-fourteen."

I can feel the relief flooding my system, and it must show on my face because Annie winks at me.

I can’t pogo, I say to nobody in particular, taking some of the responsibility for the deflated atmosphere.

But it’s too late.

The crowd has broken off into groups again.

Nobody’s interested.

River sighs and rolls his eyes. Lame.

Geo slaps him on the back. I guess we won.

Shut up.

I turn to where Annie is standing, hoping to tell her thanks. But she’s been swept away by a good-looking kid her age. The guy is tall, but where I’m a little chunky and unathletic, this dude definitely plays college ball. He’s lean and muscular. And he has that hairstyle that always looks windswept.

I watch her for a moment, wondering if I should still thank her. But when she throws her head back and laughs at what her friend is saying, I turn around and make my way back to Geo and River.

As Geo laughs and teases River for being a sore loser, I think about Annie and River in Los Angeles. Strangely, excitement is not at the forefront of my mind. They’re both so innocent and naïve. And Los Angeles…Los Angeles is a hard place. LA wasn’t built on glitz and glamor as most people assume; it was built on billions of tons of concrete that nobody talks about. I hope they know that…

Chapter 1

Seven Years Later…

Annie

I jackknife into a sitting position, going from a dead sleep to wide awake in exactly zero point three seconds. My heart is speeding in my chest, racing to the sound of my phone alarm, which is blaring from…somewhere.

I crawl my hands up and over the nightstand, searching for the offending device until I find it. Flipping my phone over, I groan as the bright backlight hits my sensitive eyes.

"Jesus! Turn it ooooff!"

I let out a little squeak of surprise. For a moment, I freeze, my hands outstretched in front of me. But once my brain has had a few seconds to process, I say, River?

Who the fuck else would it be? he snarls before rolling over, taking the entire comforter with him.

Leaning over, I switch on my bedside lamp, flooding the room with a little circle of warm light. I let my eyes adjust for a few seconds, surprised by my knee-jerk reaction to shut them tight again. When I shift my head to look at River, he’s sleeping, my purple comforter cocooning his entire torso, leaving his two scrawny legs sticking out at the bottom. River. I nudge him. Get up. I have an audition. My voice is dry and sore.

He moans and rolls onto his back. Squinting one eye open, he says, I’ll make sure I lock the door behind me?

His voice is hopeful. But I’m well trained in the game he’s playing. We’ve played it many times before—and I always win. Nope.

Come on, Annie, he whines. "I just need a few more hours. It’s my turn to do the stock take and it’d be pointless for me to go