No Way Back (a Taylor Hawkins fan fiction)

Chapter 5 - Coping Mechanisms

It had been a week since the night of the party. Gen was at The Sunroom throwing ice cubes at Rachel behind the bar.

"Thursdays suck!" she moaned as she dodged a cube Rachel had launched back at her.

"Thursdays do not suck. THIS Thursday sucks," Rachel said matter-of-factly, gazing out at the almost empty bar.

"Is there a show at the Bowl or something? Alien abduction? Earthquake I didn't feel?"

Rachel shrugged in response, grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured two shots.
"Coping mechanism," she said as she passed one to Gen.

Gen raised her glass to Rachel, sighed and swigged it back with expertise. Suddenly a strange look came across Rachel's face as her eyes drifted past Genevieve.

"Don't turn around," she said, her face casual and expressionless but her eyes betraying excitement.

"What?" Gen whispered sharply, confused.

"Your fucking boyfriend is outside smoking and he's looking in the window, I presume for you."
Gen's stomach leapt into her throat.

"WHAT?"

"Annnnnd he's coming inside," Rachel continued as she turned and pretended to straighten some bottles with a look of concentration.

"Hey, Iggy," a familiar voice called from behind her.

Gen turned, the best "surprised" look she could manage painted across her face.
"Taylor! Hi!" she smiled.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good thanks, and you?"

"I'm alright," he looked at her, a small furrow in his brow. "You snuck out, the other morning."

Gen laughed uncomfortably.
"Yeah, sorry... I didn't feel so great when I woke up. I felt like I should just get to my own bed."
She scanned the bar quickly, hoping for someone to save her, but there were no patrons to serve and Rachel had busied herself needlessly with an imaginary task at the other end of the bar. Gen cursed her silently.

"Bummer," Taylor continued. "I thought we could grab brunch or something."

"Sorry," Gen repeated, nervously fidgeting.

"Genevieve!" Suddenly Jerry's voice rang out from the end of the bar, Gen's shoulders relaxed, finally an escape route.

"You're cut! It's too dead in here to keep you both on," he finished.
Genevieve turned back to Taylor, whose face had broken into a wide grin. Her stomach lurched once again.

"Awesome, now you can sit and have a drink with me."

"I don't know, I..."
He cut her off.

"Genevieve," he said gravely, "I am holding your clothes hostage. Have a drink with me."

She felt warmth creeping into her cheeks as she realized that a) she had no way out of this, and b) she was finding it harder to pretend that she wasn't excited by the prospect of spending more time with him. She rolled her eyes, smiled and conceded.

Twenty minutes and one pint later, Gen stood outside of the bar, lighting a cigarette with Taylors matches.

"Ahhh Wisconsin," he sighed nostalgically. "Milwaukee has given me many a hangover."

"Well it is America's drunkest city," Gen laughed. It was happening, her guard was crumbling. She was having a good time. Taylor was hilarious, sweet, and seemed genuinely interested in hearing all about her.