She waved him away. “If I were you, I’d go up there. But it’s the hair,” she said, pointing at the orange frizz piled on her head. “We do crazy shit like that.”
“If I were you, I’d close my legs for five minutes and invest in a decent bra,” I mumbled under my breath.
I left poor Jesse with Michaels and then passed the bar, pulling on a wide brown door.
“That’s storage,” Jesse said. He gestured to a gray door in the back next to the jukebox, painted to blend in with the wall. “That’s hers. Knock, please, and don’t cause a scene.”
“Thanks, Jesse.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, pouring another drink for Michaels.
My feet moved slowly. Every step grew more difficult the closer I came to Ginger’s door. I opened it between songs, making the creaking of the hinges seem amplified. Before me were twenty or so dusty stairs, at the top another door. I climbed quietly, although I wasn’t sure why. If he was mid-thrust, I certainly didn’t want to catch them in the act. My stomach roiled at the thought of someone else beneath him.
When I reached the door, I knocked—quietly at first—and then again. I used the side of my hand to knock the third time, and then I could hear rustling around.
“Ginger,” I heard Josh groan. “Ginger! There’s someone at your fucking door!”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, already feeling tears well in my eyes. I knocked again, and then Josh’s feet stomped across the room. The door swung open, and he blanched.
“Avery,” he said, his bloodshot eyes wide. He was in a T-shirt and boxer briefs, as if he’d made himself right at home.
“I just, um …” My words caught in my throat. “Wanted to see for myself.”
I turned, but before I took the first step, Josh grabbed the hood of my coat and tugged me backward. “Wait!”
I flipped around, slapping his hand away. Before he could speak, I held up my hands. “Just! I don’t want to cause a scene. I know. This,” I said, gesturing to his underwear, “is your thing, and we just broke up. You running to fuck something to feel better isn’t surprising.”
“Ouch,” he said, struggling to focus. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face blotchy. “I guess I can see why you’d assume that, but you really think I’d do that on your birthday? C’mon, Avery, give me a little bit of credit.”
I nodded once. “Sorry,” I said, and then began to turn for the stairs.
“Avery?” he said. I stopped. “Did you see my car outside?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you come in here looking for me?”
I hesitated, but it was better when we didn’t pretend. “Yes.”
His voice was low and controlled. He was being careful. “I didn’t sleep with Ginger. She just brought me upstairs to sleep off the whiskey. I came here looking for you, too. That should tell us something, right?”
“Who is it?” Ginger asked, poking her wet hair and bare shoulders out of the bathroom, a thin yellow towel wrapped around her.
I looked at her, and then to Josh, devastation settling heavily in my chest.
He held out his hands, shaking his head, desperation in his eyes. “Baby …”
A half-smile quivered on my face. I began to speak, but there was nothing left to say, so I simply turned around and jogged down the stairs, running across the bar. My keys jingled as I readied them to unlock the car, and while I fumbled for the right key at my door, Josh yelped.
“Ow! Fuck!” He hopped on one bare foot, holding the other, still in his T-shirt and boxer briefs.
I finally found the key and twisted the lock, opening the door.
“Avery!” Josh barked. “Fucking wait!”
A handful of people in the parking lot turned toward the scene he was making. I cowered under their curious eyes.
Josh pointed at me as he limped over the rocks. “Don’t you open that fucking door, Jacobs!”