Chance of a Lifetime
by Marissa Clarke
Copyright © 2015 by Marissa Clarke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
Gen took a long pull on her beer, perversely enjoying her wallow in self-pity. It was a luxury she never allowed herself. Today, though, was different. All her buttressing against any show of weakness or self-doubt over the years seemed wasted, as did the protective cocoon she’d erected to appease her family. Today had brought home just how misdirected her entire life had been to date.
Sally, the receptionist for the recording studio, had been twenty-six—only one year older than her.Boom. Done. Just like that. Dead with no warning in a freak accident.
She downed the rest of her beer in harsh gulps and set the glass on the tiled bar. At least Sally hadlived before she’d died. More than Gen could say for herself.
“Hot guy at two o’clock,” Sherry, her best friend and coworker at Decibels Sound Studio, whispered from the barstool next to her. “Oooh. He’s hella fine. Same guy as before. All tall and lean and badass broody.”
“Why don’t you go say hi?” Gen suggested, not ready to give up her self-indulgent pity party.
“Another beer?” Andy asked from behind the bar as he swept her glass away with a staccato scrape across the rough surface.
She liked the bartender. His voice had a musical quality and he smelled of Old Spice deodorant—she knew because it was what her brother used—and whiskey. Today, the whiskey scent wasn’t as pronounced, but it was early yet. By the end of his shift, he would sport at least an ounce of various liquors. The smell of alcohol reminded her of someone else—someone she didn’t allow herself to think about anymore.
She ran her fingers across the small, jagged tiles of the bar and pulled a pretzel from the paper-lined plastic basket situated between her and Sherry. “Sure. Another beer would be great.”
The crunching of the pretzel drowned out the click and fizzle of Andy pulling the tap on her beer, but not the appreciative yummy noises Sherry made with regard to the guy she’d mentioned earlier.
“Don’t look now, but he’s watching you.”
Gen snorted at her friend’s joke. Sherry was the only one who felt comfortable enough to kid with her about a topic everyone else considered taboo. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking.”
“Here you go.” Andy set her glass down in front of her, gently pushing it against her hand.
“Who’s the guy at the corner table?” Sherry asked.
“Oh, that’s the doctor. He’s been hanging out here on Tuesday nights for a while.” Glasses clinked as he moved them behind the bar.
Sherry shifted on her stool with a rustle of fabric. “Tuesdays. That’s our night here. A doctor. Did you hear that, Gen?”
He laughed. “No. That’s our nickname for him because he always orders a Dr Pepper. No booze. Ever.”
Rubbing her finger around the rim of the glass, Gen sighed. No alcohol would probably have been a good choice for her tonight, considering her mood.
Andy leaned close enough for the air to move across her face and arms. “You okay?”
Funny. That was probably the number one question people asked her. And she always answered the same way. Hundreds—no, thousands—of times, she’d answered yes. But she was lying. She wasn’t okay. She’d never been okay. She never would be…not unless something changed. Unless she made it change before it was too late and she ended up like that poor girl at the receptionist desk who choked on a mint.
Nothing reckless. Nothing dangerous or daring. Simply a mint. Just like that.
“No, I’m not okay,” she answered. “I’m horrible, in fact. Never been worse.”
“We lost a coworker,” Sherry explained. “It was unexpected.”
Andy cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. She was supersweet.”
She regretted not hanging out with her more. Sally had asked her to go out after work several times, but she’d always declined. She’d been too busy keeping to her routine. Following her brother’s wishes. Playing it safe. Never stepping outside her circle of safety.
Safety. For what? Sally was a fun-loving, outgoing girl who had recently become engaged. And she died because she choked on a mint, not because she did something dangerous like ski down some uncharted vertical slope or jump out of an airplane—or in the case of Gen, simply cross the freaking street.
Which just went to show, no matter how careful she was, no matter how protective her brother was of her, something unexpected could come along and end it all in the blink of an eye.
No more. From now on, no more playing it safe. She reached to get her purse off the next stool and accidentally bumped her cane, which fell to the ground with a metallic clang. When Sherry made to retrieve it, she stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got this.” After righting the cane, she rooted in her purse until she found what she was looking for. She flattened the scrap of paper on the bar and slid back onto her stool.
“What is that?” her friend asked.
Gen closed her eyes and remembered how excited she’d been in high school when she created this. Life had so many possibilities at fifteen. Funny how ten years could turn that around. “It’s my bucket list.”
The paper crinkled as Sherry picked it up. “What’s on it?”
She didn’t even need to read it to know what it said. “Things I intend to do as soon as possible. Starting with number one right now.”
The list had sat dormant for ten years. But not anymore. No more waiting for a mint to off her.
Sherry squealed through her nose like she did at the studio when she was really excited. “You know I can’t read braille. What’s first on the list?”
A smile stretched across her face. “Number one: Kiss a total stranger.”
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