Formula for Redemption – Chapter 1 (Cheri)

Copyright Amelia Simone 2022

“Can you deliver this to Scrooge over there before you clock out?” Jake, my boss at Porter’s Pints, asked, sliding a glass my way.

“Sure.” I grabbed the beer, walking around the bar to approach broody Luke at his table. The scrooge in question might be Jake’s friend but he was my nemesis.

Okay, harsh. Maybe nemesis was too strong. But he tipped like a jackass. As in, not at all. And he took up a table every Wednesday night, nursing a lone beer while he chewed away at his burger and fries. He didn’t acknowledge anyone, let alone say “thank you.” See: jackass.

It was totally unfair that he was also hot, in a grumpy, bearded lumbersnack kind of way. I’d watched female—and male— bar patrons crash and burn their best pickup lines against the bulkhead of his indifference week after week. Jake and I had a secret pool going over when he’d finally take one of the poor saps home. My fiver on “never” was going to pay out if we made it to the end of the year with him rejecting every new pickup attempt. Sucker deserved to die alone.

Again, harsh. However maybe I wouldn’t be so down on Luke if he didn’t seem to enjoy annoying me quite so much.

“Here’s your beer,” I said as I set the glass on the table.

Luke didn’t look up from his book, just grunted.

I’d already turned away when he barked, “What, no coaster?”

Asshole.

I pivoted, catching him checking out my ass. Flipping off one of Jake’s steadiest customers would be wrong. So why did it tempt me so much?

I wove through tables, adding a little swing to my step to emphasize just what Luke couldn’t have, more than ready to leave early for the night and head home. Thinking more about the anatomy test I needed to study for than where I was walking or who I was walking by, I flinched when a beefy hand connected with my ass.

“Honey, are you butt dialing? Because I swear that ass is calling me,” the man who accosted me growled, trying to be sexy. Dressed in a Threshers’ jersey and a backward ballcap, he guffawed with his buddies.

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at the bar. If Jake saw Jersey’s move, he’d get tossed out on his ear. He didn’t allow groping. Lucky for Jersey, Jake had his back turned, leaving me free to deal with him in my own special way.

“Consider it a misdial. I’m all done with BO and bad decisions,” I said, firmly removing his hand from my right butt cheek.

Jersey’s dark-haired friend smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry for Kyle here.”

Kyle’s Beefy arms encircled my waist, pulling me down onto his lap, and I shoved, trying to work myself free. “Let me go.”

More embarrassed than scared, I grew frustrated when he didn’t release me. I’d been bartending too long to get caught unaware like this. Rookie move, and I blamed my distraction on my upcoming test. I pulled back my arm, readying my elbow for a strike, when a shadow fell over us.

“Let. Cheri. Go.”

Shocked, I glanced up to see Luke hovering over us, menacing frown firmly in place. I was surprised he remembered my name. Granted, we’d spent time together socially, but Luke communicated primarily via grunting. I’d grown to doubt his ability to form multisyllabic words at all.

The beefy butt dialer didn’t seem fazed by Luke hulking over him, and I dug my elbow into his soft side, grinning fiercely when he let out an oof of pain. He released me, and Luke extended a hand, helping me to my feet.

“Thanks,” I said grudgingly. I could have saved myself. And Jake would have helped if I needed it.

True to form, Luke grunted, abandoning me without another word to return to his seat. I shuffled through the remaining tables, skirting any guys I worried could be jerks in favor of couples, still feeling the adrenaline rush and a little shaken. A crowd at the bar had blocked Jake’s view of our little drama, and he looked up from the lemon drop he was making to nod toward the clock.

“Can you do me one last favor and drop off Luke’s burger on your way out? Go ahead and take your purse.”

Holding back the groan at the thought of walking past Handsy McGee again, I nodded. Jake was a good boss, always generous with nights off and letting me study behind the bar when we weren’t too busy. Dropping off one last plate of food was no hardship.

“Yeah, but Jersey over there needs to go on the no service list after tonight.”

Jake glanced up; his expression alarmed. “He pull something?”

Wrinkling my nose, I nodded. “But Luke and I handled it.”

Shifting a glance at the offending table, he scowled. “Consider it done. Sorry, Cheri.”

I slid my purse over one shoulder, grabbing Luke’s dinner with my free hand, and navigated a fresh path to his table—away from Jersey—and the door. Dropping the plate unceremoniously in front of him, I cursed when my purse caught on the chair next to him, spilling its contents across his table.

“Dammit.”

My wallet, phone, and keys splayed across the wood, and in the rush to gather the odds and ends up, I missed the heavy envelope and card that I’d shoved in my bag days ago hoping to forget I’d ever seen it.

Luke zeroed in on the invite and scooped it up in one big paw.

“Mr. Bronson Turner and Dr. Samantha Ellis request the pleasure of your company at their wedding?” He glanced up at me, assessing. “Any relation?”

Shocked, both by Luke’s unusual verbosity and his knowledge my last name, I paused. Shoving the gilt invitation back in my purse, I muttered, “Sister.”

He grunted, as if regretting the moment of human interest, and I turned on my heel, heading for the door. I was totally out of patience. For grumpy Scrooge lumbersnacks, handsy bar patrons, and perfect sisters getting married.

***

Sunday dawned foggy and gray, and I pulled on lined leggings beneath a soft swing dress, pairing it with boots for brunch. I may be the only poor college student left in our cadre, but I didn’t have to look it. Sunday brunch had become a semi-regular ritual with Rita, my former roommate. She’d graduated her master’s program and become an IT administrator for a nonprofit in migraine research. Rita had moved in with her boyfriend Ed recently, and they seemed deliriously happy. Sid, Rita’s former academic advisor at the college, Angi, a successful accountant, and Carly, yet another professor in IT, rounded out our friend group. Each were wildly successful in their own way, but they’d continued to include me, not caring that I was the underachiever among them.

Harsh.

Too harsh. But some days, it seemed like I’d never hit my stride. My younger sister, the esteemed Dr. Samantha Ellis, always Samantha, never Sam, had me beat on every level. Maybe it was the wedding invitation burning a hole in my purse, but I felt my inadequacies more keenly than usual as I pulled out a chair at our table, greeting the others.

“Hey, Angi, Sid. Are Rita and Carly going to make it today?” I asked.

Angi, the matriarch of our group, shook her elegant head. Every sleek black hair in place, she looked like she was born for the boardroom. A career accountant, and married to Rita’s boyfriend’s business partner, she quirked a brow. “Rita is on Rita time, I’m sure. Carly had to help host a brunch at the sorority this morning for informal recruitment. She won’t be here today.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.” I turned to Sid, a professor who used to be Rita’s faculty supervisor at the university. “How’s Nate doing? I haven’t seen him at the bar lately unless the Gotham Knights have a meeting.”

Nate and his buddies, including my boss Jake, had met up at Porter’s a few times, drinking and swapping advice. I’d nearly had apoplexy when they pulled Luke into their gatherings, unable to imagine the gruff man having anything to contribute.

Sid pushed back her long, dark hair, smiling indulgently. “He’s been busy, and thankfully the Gotham Knights have mostly been on hiatus since Carly and Coach Bear made things official.”

I sighed. Coach and Carly made a cute couple. The lovable Bear was a favorite customer of mine.  “I like it when the Knights meet at Porter’s. They give me hope.”

“Hope for what?” Angi asked, sipping at her tea.

“Men. The human race. Take your pick.”

Sid wrinkled her nose. “Are the pickup lines at the bar getting to you again?” she asked.

I nodded. “Some asshole tried to claim I butt-dialed him, using it as an excuse to grope me the other night.”

“Jake didn’t put a stop to it?” Angi asked, looking concerned. “It’s not like him to let anyone abuse his staff.”

I shook my head. “He didn’t see it. And I can take care of myself,” I added pointedly.

Angi held up her hands. “I know, I know, but you shouldn’t have to. Jake’s never been shy about banning customers who get inappropriate.”

Rita arrived in a rush, sliding into her seat. “What did I miss?” she asked me. “What shouldn’t you have to do?”

“Fight off jerks at the bar.”

“While I agree, I do love your bar stories,” Rita teased. “I live vicariously through you all the time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Your life is terrible. Shacked up with your boyfriend, having all that sex. How ever will you survive?”

She balled up her napkin, throwing it at me with a mischievous grin. “You could have a boyfriend—if you wanted one.”

“Let’s not litigate that argument again,” I said, raising my menu to hide my face. “We’ve already determined that your significant others are severely lacking in eligible brothers. What looks delicious today?” I asked lightly, hoping the change of subject would stick.

“I’m just saying,” Rita insisted. “If you accepted an invitation once in a while for something more than a single night, you wouldn’t have to worry about who to take to Dr. Perfect’s wedding. Second dates are a thing, you know.”

Kill me now. A delicate finger pushed the menu away from my face, and I peered up into Angi’s dark eyes.

“What’s this about a wedding?”

Blood. In. The. Freaking. Water.

I’d seen that matchmaking light in Angi’s eyes before. With Carly and Bear. I didn’t need her help to find a man. But it wouldn’t stop her from “helping” me find a date to my sister’s wedding if I didn’t nip it in the bud. Stat. I planned to go solo, assuming I couldn’t pull off a miraculous excuse. Like leprosy.

“I have a date,” I claimed airily, wanting to call back the words as soon as I said them.

I had a date. Many dates. Every day was technically a date. Monday the fifth, for example, would be a fabulous date. Not lying. Exactly.

“Oh?” That damn brow arched. “With whom?” she asked, leaning forward, resting her chin on top of her folded hands. “Anyone we know?”

Racking my brain, for someone, anyone, I could claim, I blurted out the only name I could think of on the spot.

“Luke!”

Rita, Angi, and Sid recoiled as if I’d climbed on the table and farted. Smiling nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear, hoping it didn’t look like the nervous tic it was.

I should have come clean, succumbed to Angi’s motherly matchmaking, but that way lay madness. She was too damn successful at it. And there was no way in hell I was settling down.

“I asked Luke the other night at the bar.”

Sure. Asked. Accidentally showed him the invitation. Practically the same thing, right?

“Um … you hate Luke,” Rita said, sounding confused.

Rightfully so. They may have heard a diatribe or ten about his poor tipping habits.

I waved a hand in the air, like doing so would dissipate the stink from my lie.

“That doesn’t mean he can’t help me out,” I said confidently. “He owes me.”

Angi squinted, suspicious. “Since when does Luke ever help anyone out?”

She had a point. Dammit. I couldn’t imagine a more unlikely wedding date. Maybe Sasquatch? Getting Luke to accompany me to my sister’s wedding was about as likely as bagging Bigfoot. But I could pretend Luke would help. It didn’t mean I’d actually go with him. He probably wouldn’t mind a white lie if it made him look good.

I cleared my throat, searching for a convincing reason he’d help. “It’s all for a good cause,” I said, pretending like that would matter to my nemesis. Angi didn’t look satisfied, and I made a last grasp for believability. “I’m doing him a favor too,” I said, trying for mysterious, and like I wasn’t lying out my ass. Making him look like my hero to our friends was the favor.

“What favor?” Sid asked.

I mimed zipping my lips. “It’s a secret.”

“Right …” Rita said, still sounding skeptical.

Angi shook her head slowly. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I might have someone I can set you up with. No drama.”

Sure. No drama. Until he ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I didn’t need yet another man taking one look at my perfect sister and dumping me on the spot.

The only man I’d ever take to Samantha’s wedding was one I hated. Just in case.

Maybe asking Luke to go with me for real wasn’t such a bad idea after all? Pretty window-dressing was something my family could appreciate, and for all of his personality flaws, I couldn’t deny that Luke was attractive. Shoving down visions of my little lumbersnack, all spiffed up in a dark suit, sipping champagne with my snobby family, I grasped for a change of subject. Any change.

“Rita, are you taking Ed to visit your mom this Christmas?” I asked brightly.

“Yes,” she said, smiling softly. “I’m excited for him to go to Arizona with me.”

“Tell your mom ‘hi’ for me,” Sid said. “She’s still one of my favorite professors from undergrad.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her hello,” Rita said. She turned to Angi. “What about you and Daniel? Are you and Ari staying home?”

Angi nodded. “Yes. My family is all local, and Daniel’s will drive from Portland and visit us. What about you, Sid?”

She smiled softly. “I’m looking forward to spending it with Nate and Savvy. Maybe we can make some new, happy memories.”

Sid and her significant other, Nate, had been rivals in their department before they’d become lovers. Together, they were raising Nate’s younger sister. I could only imagine how difficult it was, losing my parents at a young age like Savvy had.

“What about you, Cheri? Any holiday plans with Luke, since you’re dating now?” Angi asked pointedly.

Distracted by the melancholy, I missed the opportunity to divert the conversation before it headed over the cliff.

Stupid lie is stupid.

The challenging light in Angi’s eyes made me think she expected me to cave. Lying to my closest friends wasn’t a good look, but part of me was tired of being the straggler in our merry little band. Not that I needed a boyfriend, and certainly not Luke, but was it so wrong if I wanted them to think I had someone?

“We’re not exactly dating. And we haven’t talked about any plans,” I said lightly.

‘Cause, hey. It’s not like we talked. Ever. Wednesday had been an anomaly. Maybe it had only been ten-ish words combined, but that was still practically a record for us.

Rita snapped her fingers. “Friendsgiving,” she said, like it answered all of her questions.

“What?” I asked, confused. We’d celebrated the holiday together last week at Jake and his partner, Chris’s house. It’d been a lovely day. Mostly. Minus one itty, bitty annoyance.

“You needled him constantly at Friendsgiving,” Rita said like it was a revelation. “I should have known something was up.”

Her mischievous grin made me feel bad about lying to her. Lying to all of them. Before I could come clean, Sid said, “Ooh, I remember now. You two were very cozy.”

I tilted my head, considering. Had I suffered a head injury? Had they attended the same party I had?

Angi’s eyes narrowed before her lips turned up. “Some kind of spat about … was it wine?”

“Oaked versus unoaked chardonnay,” I admitted, feeling silly.

It had been a minor disagreement about wine preferences. Sure, Luke was wrong, but you couldn’t tell a winery owner anything about wine without them getting their noses out of joint. I thought oaked chardonnay was A) nasty, and B) bad for the environment. I couldn’t understand why Luke imported new barrels from France. The carbon footprint alone was exorbitant.

Our verbal jabs had been fun and was the most I’d ever heard him speak up to that point, but it hadn’t changed things between us. Luke was still my least-favorite customer.

“Hmmm … that winery is romantic …” Rita sighed, her expression dreamy.

“Are you and Ed thinking of getting married there?” I asked, fishing.

She grinned. “Maybe. Someday. Not now, though.”

“Speaking of weddings, when is your sister getting married again?” Sid asked.

I could have bitten my tongue off. Silly of me to bring the subject back to weddings.

“New Year’s Eve,” I said tonelessly.

I’d be ringing in the new year surrounded by family. Joy.

“At least you’ll have someone to kiss at midnight,” Sid said, likely in an attempt to console me.

Kiss? Luke? An uncomfortable wash of heat rushed under my skin at the suggestion, and I pushed away visions of him gripping me close.

“If we don’t murder each other first,” I muttered, wishing I could call the words back when Angi squinted at me.

How good was her hearing? Could super hearing be a toddler mom thing?

I straightened in my seat, pretending confidence, and forcing a smile. “I’m sure Luke and I will have a great time.” Phantom Luke would make the best date—because he’d be a figment of my imagination. No risk of disappointing me. Pretending that I had a date would be easier than spending a tortuous evening together. I could admit the truth once the wedding was safely over. My friends hadn’t been invited, so as long as none of them asked him about the fabled wedding, my secret was safe.