Fractured [SHAWN MENDES]

~35~

Taryn handed Shawn an apron. "You should wear this. Working at a bar is surprisingly messy work. You don't want to get that nice white shirt stained, since it looks very expensive."

He put it on and tied it in back. After having a mini panic attack that afternoon over the possibility of being identified, he'd decided to wear his fake glasses and a baseball cap. At this point, most of the older regulars probably knew who he was and just didn't care. It was the young crowd he worried about, but he made a commitment to helping Tricia and would have to deal with any confrontations.

"I printed this drink cheat sheet in case you get stuck working the bar. Most customers here order beer or rail drinks, which are the easiest to make. This is Reagan's first night working the kitchen alone, so my mom will probably be focused on her," she said as she took her apron off.

He looked her over. She was wearing an uncharacteristically sexy outfit, which hadn't been noticeable under the apron, and Shawn knew that every guy in the club would be checking her out. Her blouse was silky with a plunging neckline and her black jeans were insanely tight. She'd obviously be changing out of the comfy shoes she had on, and he wondered if she'd put on high heels.

"I think you missed a button," he said as he reached to do it for her.

"You don't like this look?"

"Like it? I love it. But you're gonna get hit on all night, baby."

She leaned closer to him and whispered, "Those college boys can flirt all they want, but none of them compare to you. That thing you did to me last night on the couch? I didn't know I could bend that way."

He grinned as he recalled 'the reverse wheelbarrow,' which was what he named their new position. "Go have fun with your friends. If you want to drunk text me, I'll be here, though if it's really busy I might not respond right away."

"I will undoubtedly text you something either sexy or stupid. Listen...if my mom seems really tired, make her sit down for a bit. She hasn't worked nights since she got sick, so I'm not sure she's up to it."

"Got it. I promise to do as much of the running around as possible."

"I really appreciate this," she said before giving him a quick kiss.

"I'm going to have a blast working here. You go have fun."

Two hours later, Shawn was not exactly having a blast, but he was handling the pressure of working the crowded bar fairly well. It was a good thing The Good Luck Lounge was small and could only hold a limited number of customers at a time. The counter could seat sixteen people and then there were seven tables that each sat four.

Reagan came out of the kitchen and handed him a plate of poutine. "Sorry these took so long. I had to make more gravy."

"They are for table two and that group is really chill so they won't care," he reassured her.

She'd just graduated from culinary school when she saw Patricia's ad for a night cook. It wasn't the type of job Reagan anticipated getting, but she had to start somewhere since her boyfriend's income as a fire fighter wasn't going to pay their rent.

"Is it always this busy?" she asked.

"No. This is nuts even for a Saturday."

The cook returned to the kitchen, and Shawn delivered the food to the table. "Here you go. Best poutine in Toronto."

"Hey, can you settle a bet?" one of the guys asked.

"Maybe," he replied uneasily. Was he going to be asked if he was Shawn Mendes? Several people had eyed him suspiciously but no one had worked up the nerve to confront him.

"My buddy here says that bartenders water down the alcohol to increase their profits. I'm not asking you if it's done here, but is that actually a thing? Do some places do that?"

He laughed. "I have no idea, but I've been out before and have been suspicious because my drink was so weak."

"The lady working the bar tonight makes a good strong one." The guy nodded towards Patricia.

"She's the owner and she is amazing."

He checked on each table and gave the drink orders to Tricia before going in the kitchen to let Reagan know she needed to make two more platters of hot wings.

As the night wore on, there were fewer food orders, but people were still drinking. Shawn watched in awe as Tricia tactfully cut a couple inebriated patrons off and arranged rides home for them. The customers seemed to genuinely like her, and they often engaged her in long conversations. If she was tired, she didn't show it.

When he had a break around midnight, he pulled his phone from his front pocket and read the texts that Taryn sent him earlier. He'd felt his phone vibrate but had been too busy to look at them.

Made it to Welland

Heading to a club

How's it going?

He replied that everything was great and that they had it under control, and then he apologized for not replying earlier. She texted back immediately.

Imma little tipsy

Miss meeeee?

He chuckled to himself as he tried to imagine her drunk. After sending a quick response he got back to work.

So much ❤️

By the time Patricia locked the front door, he was exhausted. A six hour bar shift was much harder than any music-related work he'd done in his old life, and he had a greater appreciation for those who did this for a living.

"Holy moly!" Reagan exclaimed as she came out of the kitchen after cleaning it. "That was crazy, but it was really fun!"

"You might be bored tomorrow night," Tricia told her. "Sundays are slow."

"I can't wait for that." Shawn stretched his arms over his head to crack his sore back.

When he got home, he took a hot shower and got a bowl of cereal, which he ate in the kitchen wearing only his underwear. It was the middle of the night, and he was bone-achingly tired, but he couldn't turn his brain off. He crawled into bed and opened up Instagram. Partway down his feed was a pic Taryn had posted an hour and a half ago. He stared at it, trying to register exactly what he was seeing.

She appeared to be in a lounge area of a bar because there were couches instead of tables. It was dark except for a neon beer sign that hung on the wall above the sofa she was sitting on. Except she wasn't sitting on a the sofa...she was on some guy's lap. She had her arms around his neck and they were kissing. It wasn't a deep sexy kiss, but their lips were definitely touching and their eyes were closed. Her caption read:

missed my boy so much! ❤️❤️❤️

Taryn hadn't texted him for hours and now he knew why. This was probably the boyfriend she'd broken up with before she left school to help her mom. She'd never elaborated about whether they'd been serious or if she'd been heartbroken when things ended. Maybe this dude was the love of her life, though how would he know since she was never forthcoming about anything in her life? She sure as hell seemed happy to be back with him. Was she with him right now? Shawn winced as images of Taryn fucking another guy flashed in his brain.

"Fuck!" he shouted in his empty room as he threw his phone down. It bounced off the mattress and crashed into his bedside table, making the tell-tale shattering sound of death.

He'd really believed that they'd grown closer recently, and he'd been considering letting things move forward. Becoming a real couple was the natural progression, and he was ready to make a commitment.

Apparently she was not on the same page.