Not Your Average Fairytale

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

            Forty-five minutes later, Wynter awoke to the car stopping. Startled, she blinked her eyes hazily, reaching up to rub at them with her hand. Arabella, Everett, and Baylor, whom she had used as a pillow were all awake already while Jasper snored in the front.

            "You sleep weird," Baylor bluntly remarked as she yawned, sitting up.

            "Thanks and good morning to you too," she grumbled.

            Judging by how Everett and Arabella were the most awake, she guessed they had decided not to sleep. With no one resting on him, Baylor stretched a little in his seat.

            "We're here," Ashleigh announced from the passenger seat.

            "Where exactly is here?" Wynter asked, peering around.

            "'Tequila Mockingbird' I believe," her friend answered, reading the sign aloud. "Bar and library."

            "What on earth—?" Everett asked, craning his head to see as well. Sure enough, the sign advertising the unique place on the outer edge of town was hanging above the store.

            "Wake up, idiot," Arabella said to Jasper, hitting him on the back of the head.

            He jolted, sitting up. "What do you want?" he snapped, groaning.

            "We're here, let's get out," she answered, already pulling the door open. The whole group in the backseat piled out of the back grateful for the room. Wynter glanced over to Baylor, who looked like he was on his guard.

            They made their way into the small, cozy store. Books filled the wall space, covering every inch. A long bar lined the right side of the room, and the left side was split between shelves and tables with a few chairs pulled up beside it.

            Arabella gawked. This place was a dream come true to her. It didn't feel much like a bar, more like a coffee shop, although the blackboard hanging from one shelf advertised alcoholic drinks.

            A bartender stood behind the counter, mixing something, while a few customers spotted the venue here and there. The group looked around at one another, waiting for someone to do something.

            Wynter was the first to move. She walked up to the bar with confidence she didn't feel, and the bartender looked up at her. "You don't look old enough to order anything," he observed.

            "I'm not," she admitted. "I'm not actually here to order anything. My name is Wynter."

            "Ah, like the season?" he asked, making her nod. "I'm Jonah."

            She took a deep breath before beginning to talk. "Listen, I just wanted to ask. Do you know a girl named Rosalyn and if so—"

            "Rosalyn? Of course I do. Anyone who's a regular knows her. She's one of the performers," he answered, going back to what he was doing.

            "Performers?" Wynter echoed, following him. The rest of the crowd listened intently to their conversation.

            "Yeah, she comes in here and sings with that guy every week," he explained, not looking up at her. "She has an amazing voice."

            "With what guy?" she asked, trying to focus on her mission instead of thinking about Rosalyn singing. Rosalyn never sang, it was a rule.