Wasted Words (8 page)

“They’re sixteen and eighteen, Tyler.”

“Like I said, too young. Now tell me who I have to kill.”

She laughed. “Oliver Wilson and Jesse Crawford.”

I sighed. “Well, at least I know their families, which means I know where they live.”

“I miss you,” she said. “Promise you’ll come out at least once with me.”

“No promises.”

She groaned. “Come on. You’re so boring now that you’re a grown up.”

“I know,” I said with a chuckle. “You’re next.”

“Never. Maybe I’ll come to New York and use my Lit degree to work at Cam’s bar.”

“Hey, it’s not a bad gig.”

“Anything to get out of Lincoln.”

“Except you’ll miss it,” I added. “Everybody misses it. New York is lonely sometimes.”

“Well, luckily Mom and Dad have all those extra bedrooms for me when I come visit.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, I won’t keep you too long, I just wanted to say hi. Have fun tonight, and try to avoid fighting with Iron Man. See if you can’t find a pretty honey to take home, especially if Cam pushes one at you.”

I smiled. “All right. Oh, and Meg?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you too.”

I could hear her smiling on the other end. “Can’t wait to see you. One week!”

“One week.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Meg.”

I hung up the phone and slipped it back in my pocket, thinking about what she’d said. It was true that I hadn’t dated anyone seriously since my breakup with Jessica. And it wasn’t like that wasn’t traumatic on its own. When I showed up on Cam’s doorstep, I didn’t have much more than a suitcase to my name. To be with someone, to
live
with someone who you thought you loved and who loved you, only to have them leave you for faults that you believed were strengths, was disorienting to say the least.
 

I was too nice. Too good. Boring. I went to all the clubs and parties with her even though I didn’t want to. I played her game, but it wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t pretend to be interested in what she was interested in any more than she could. I’d always known she and I weren’t meant for forever. But getting dumped like that, for those reasons? It was a dick punch that I wasn’t prepared for.

But maybe Meg was right. Maybe I should put in a little more effort to find someone to be with,
really
be with. Cam’s was the first face I saw when I considered my options, and I wished it were possible between us for the first time in earnest. The thought surprised me, but when I considered it, she was at the top of the list.
 

But Cam wasn’t interested in me, so I pushed away the idle imaginings of me kissing her or holding her and locked them up tight.
 

We were friends. That was all there was to it, and the fact wasn’t bound to change any time soon.

Cam

THE DAY WAS LONG AND full of paper cuts, though the taco break was the ideal reset before switching gears into singles night. Nothing said ‘Let’s do this’ like carnitas and avocado.
 

Everyone was in good spirits by the time inventory was finished, and most of the staff went home to get ready for the party that night. One of the earliest concepts for the bar was a singles night once a week, an event I gladly took on. Each had a literary theme, and I had so many planned, we’d be set for a couple of years. Like Alice in Wonderland, dystopian, fairy tale, zombies, anime, Victorian, time travel … the list just went on and on. Some were cosplay. Some were almost like a book club, where everyone would be encouraged to read something, with bonus points for a prize if you did. And there was always trivia — we’d purchased special tablets designed for bars that ran trivia games — and I had ways of splitting people up so they’d meet as many singles as possible.

So far, they’d all been a success, but tonight might top them all. Everybody loves a good costume party, and when you mix it up with comics? It’s like a dream come true. For me, at least.

By seven, we had all changed into our costumes. Bayleigh was dressed, as planned, as Gwen Stacy, in a lab coat over a pencil skirt and tight top, with a black headband on and shaggy bangs. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as she cut lemons on the bar to prep backups for the garnishes. Greg wore a Spiderman costume, stocking the bar in a skin-tight red suit, cap, everything, muscles bulging. Padding not required.

I maybe had a small idea of what his plan was when I suggested her costume.
 

My closet consisted primarily of flannel, jersey, and costumes, and I’d settled on Rogue — auburn wig with a white streak, black skinnies, a yellow and green tank under a brown leather jacket, and combat boots. She was my favorite. I just needed to find a Gambit of my very own, and I’d be all set.

Bayleigh sliced up the last lemon and looked over the plastic tubs. “Crap, we went through more than this last week. I’d better grab some more.”

“Think you’ll have hands for a couple of bottles for me?” Greg asked.

She smiled. “Sure.”

He scanned the platform stacked with bottles. “Grab me a bottle of Grey Goose and a couple bottles of Juarez.”

She shuddered. “Why anyone would drink well tequila is beyond me.”

He snickered. “That’s how you end up waking up in a stranger’s bathtub.”

Bayleigh giggled and trotted off, and I moved to stand next to Greg, lining up shot glasses. “So funny that you guys match tonight. Did you plan that?” I asked, playing dumb.

“No.” I could hear him smiling from under his mask. “Most girls would pick Mary Jane, but I always preferred Gwen. She was the sweet one — Mary Jane at the time was kind of shallow, but Gwen … she was the good girl.”

I pursed my lips, trying not to smile.

“Plus,” he said as he arranged liquor bottles in the order he wanted, “I have respect for girls who wear costumes that aren’t all spandex and boobs. There really is a sad lack of costumes for chicks that aren’t slutty, and I hate the slutty ones.”

I raised a brow.
 

He chuckled and pulled up his mask. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking. I just hate that it’s the norm for you guys. Like, that you feel obligated to look sexy. Personally, I think it’s sexier when it’s not all legs and cleavage.”

“Like sexy marshmallow! Or sexy hot dog! Or sexy unicorn!”

Greg shook his head, smiling. “Last Halloween, I saw a chick dressed up like sexy corn.
Corn.
She was wasted, running around the bar screaming ‘
Shuck it!
.’”

I snorted. “Oh, my God.”

“That same bar had a costume contest, and the girl who won was just wearing lingerie.”

My head tilted. “So … sexy … sex machine?”

“I guess. She walked around all night in heels, fishnets, a corset, and panties.”

“Original.”

“So, yeah. I respect a girl who doesn’t think the only way to get a guy is to strut around almost naked, dressed up like a slutty vegetable.”

“Well, Bayleigh definitely isn’t the slutty vegetable type.”

He laughed. “No, definitely not. She’s too good for that. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

I smiled. “Me too. Maybe that’ll change sooner than later.”
 

He glanced over, smiling again. “Maybe so.”

Bayleigh rounded the corner with her arms full of lemons and bottles, but three steps in, her shoe caught on the bar mat, and her eyes flew wide as she began to topple over. In one swift motion, Greg stepped in front of her and caught her. She fell into him — his arms were just under hers, which still cradled her loot, and she looked up at him with starry eyes and bated breath.
 

My nerd heart fluttered at the sight of Gwen in Spidey’s arms, and I leaned forward, waiting for them to kiss.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at her.

She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Greg stood her up, making sure she was stable before stepping back. “Anytime.”

He took the bottles from her and moved to the bar, putting his back to us, and Bayleigh and I shared a grin. Her cheeks were still pink as she set down her lemons and smoothed her skirt, smiling down at her hands while she finished cutting the fruit.

The bar began to fill up not long after, and by eight-thirty, the place was pumping. Most of our staff turned up to party, even Warren the grump was dressed up like the Green Goblin, which matched his scowl perfectly. Well, everyone was partying except for Ruby, who wasn’t old enough to drink. Instead, she stayed in the front with the bouncer and Jett, passing out tiny capes and masks to people who came without costumes. Jett was set up at the table with her, handing out name tags. Everyone was instructed to write their name, drink of choice, and a book on their to-be-read list. Jett composed a master list, rounded up all the books, and put them on a book cart near the bar. Anyone could buy a book and a drink for the single they had their eye on for fifty percent off at the bar.

Books and booze. What reader could refuse? None, that’s how many.

I made my rounds, chatting with our crew and some of our regulars. I found The Reader and Batman — she was dressed up as Kagome from
InuYasha,
and he wore a kilt and tunic, though with his dark hair, he resembled Roger Wakefield more than Jamie Fraser. But either way, he looked amazing. They both did. She’d dressed up just over excitement from chewing through two books in a day, and he’d come dressed up for her, hoping she would be there.
 

See? Satisfying. I told them I wouldn’t at all be opposed if they named their first baby Cameron. Girl or boy, didn’t matter.

A little while later, I mixed everyone up, splitting them into teams for the trivia games based on their costumes. It was always literary trivia that covered all forms of fiction, including comics and graphic novels, so each team would hopefully have a variety of knowledge to pool from. After an hour of trivia games headed up by me, we turned up the music again, and just as I’d suspected, almost everyone stayed all mixed up with their groups, mingling with strangers well after the game was over.
 

I’d just set down my master game pad behind the bar when I looked up to find Tyler walking in.

Everything stopped for just one long moment.

We’d taken a different approach to his costume than the spandex route, dressing him up as Steve Rogers in a bomber jacket, cargo pants, and combat boots, with an old-timey military helmet. He wore a Captain America shirt under his jacket, which zipped part of the way, and he carried a shield we’d made him out of a trashcan and spray paint, which turned out pretty badass, I have to say. He was tall — so tall — his smile straight out of a dream or a toothpaste commercial, his jaw made out of stone cut to perfection. He waved at me, and I blinked, smiling as I waved back.

I noticed he had a friend in tow, Martin, I suspected. It took me a minute to figure out his costume — royal blue slacks, a deep red cardigan, a blue button-down shirt and red bow tie. The 35mm camera hanging from his neck gave it away … I figured he was either Peter Parker or Jimmy Olsen, but Jimmy wouldn’t wear those colors. Really, no one should wear those colors, but he was adorable in his own right, with kind eyes and a friendly smile that I found myself mirroring.

“Hey, Cam,” Tyler said when he’d approached. “This is my friend Martin.”

He stuck out a hand, using the other to push his black-framed glasses up his nose. “Nice to meet you.”

I grasped and shook it. “Same here. Peter Parker, right?”

His cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah. Glad you guessed it. I was worried I wasn’t creative enough, but I put it together last-minute.”

“Nah, you did great.” I smiled at him. He really was cute for a ninety-pound accountant, plus, I was a sucker for nerdy underdogs. My next thought was that I’d work on making a match for him tonight. My smile widened, taking stock of the girls I’d seen, sorting through them for a girl who would complement his charm. I was almost positive I’d seen an adorable girl earlier dressed up as Snow White from Fable who could be perfect for him.

“Come on, let’s get you fellas a drink.” I swung my arm in invitation and headed to the bar.

There were some open seats near the back of the bar, since almost everyone had spread out among the cocktail tables on the floor, and some people had moved further into the store, sitting on the clusters of leather couches.

We took our seats as Bayleigh made her way over with a smile. “Hey, Tyler, good to see you. Whatcha drinking?”
 

“Yuengling for me. Bayleigh, this is my buddy Martin.”

Bayleigh smiled sweetly. “I’m Bay, nice to meet you, Martin.”

“Bay?” I asked with a brow raised.

“What? I’m trying it on,” she answered.

Tyler quirked his brow. “Bae? Like the slang for baby?”

Bayleigh groaned and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, nothing works. I have no options. How about just calling me B?”

Tyler’s eyes squinted. “Like a bumblebee?”

She groaned again, and I laughed. “What’s your middle name?”

But she shook her head. “I’m not telling.”

My brow climbed. “That bad?”

“Worse,” she said, lips flat. “Anyway, what are you drinking, Martin?”

“Make Cam guess,” Tyler said to Martin. “It’s one of her parlor tricks.”

I laughed. “Um, let me think.” I looked him over and tapped my lip. He seemed like an unfussy enough guy, but definitely not a beer drinker. Something light without being weak. “Vodka soda.”

He smirked. “Rum and Coke. I have a sweet tooth.”

Tyler nudged me. “Look at that. Cam was wrong. I should have bet on it.”

I nudged him back, irked. “Speaking of bets, you owe me twenty bucks. Check them out.” I pointed to The Reader and Batman as they stood close to each other, smiling and blushing happily.

“Dammit,” he nearly whined, but he reached into his pocket and forked out a twenty anyway.

Bayleigh smiled at Martin across the bar. “So who are you supposed to be?”
 

“Peter Parker. Who are you?”

Her smile stretched wider as she poured his drink. “Gwen Stacy. I saw Green Goblin over there earlier,” she said with a nod toward the romance side of the bar. “Make sure you keep an eye on him.”