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say and swipe the phone off the counter before she can get to it. Brenda smirks and continues to wipe down bottles of booze from the back shelves, reaching up a dozen times to attempt to tuck her short dark hair behind her ears.
    I probably shouldn’t have texted her, but I was sitting in the office, waiting for my Dad to not show up, like usual, and saw her employment file open on the desk. The way she ran out of here with Garett last night is making me crazy. She looked almost frantic.
    There’s something intriguing about Sophia, and something that she’s hiding. It bothers me that I am so interested in her. I want to know why she looks at everything with wide eyes like she’s never stepped outside of her own head and has no idea that there’s a world beyond her sadness. I want to know why she punches steering wheels and reaches for her purse every time something makes her jump. I more or less just want to know how she got stuck in my head. Getting involved is off limits for me. That’s why what Kayla and I have works.
    “Well honey, you want another beer while you wait for that call?” Brenda swipes my empty bottle and I shake my head, reaching into my pocket for money.
    “Once they get in there, it’s hard to get them out, eh?” I hear the shaky voice of Richard from a few seats down the bar, and I shake my head. Brenda rolls her eyes.
    “All good, Brenda. Keep the rest. Have to get back to work.” I push back from the bar and nod to Richard sitting three stools down from me. “Once what gets in where, Rich?” I ask, leaning on the bar next to a man I’ve known my entire life.
    The old man is the most regular of the regulars and has been coming to Dad’s bar every day since his wife died four years ago. Before that he was in here with Ruth every Friday for steak sandwiches. Now I think he comes for the company, or to avoid the pain of being home and living in his memories. I can relate to that.
    “The girl you’re waitin’ for.”
    I shake my head again. Horny old man thinks of nothing but women.
    Just after she passed away, he always used to come sit with the guys and me and tell us stories of his wife, Ruth. I didn’t think old people were wild like that, but Richard and Ruth were beatniks through and through. Bonnie and Clyde, without the killing. Rich would always throw an arm over my shoulder and make everyone lean in.
    “Those women, they have more power than any man I ever knew, I tell ya. Once you set eyes on the right one, you might as well be dead ‘cause your heart no longer beats for you, your world no longer spins on its’ own, your soul is wrapped up in that single gaze and handed over freely. Everything you do from that day forward, whether ya like it or not, will be for her; and her only. That's what I call true power.” He would slap his hand down on the table and lean back like he just said the most brilliant thing ever spoken.
    He was a great poet and a hilarious drunk, but I didn’t believe a word he said.
    “That’s bullshit, Old Man. In the end, they’ll always crush that heart and walk out on that world.” I would tease him, and he’d look at me with these dark eyes, so serious.
    “Until you stop staring at women with your prick, boy, you ain’t never gunna set eyes on the right one. That young brain a’yours knows nothing of what it means to be in love.”
    “There ain’t no girl, Richie. I’m not waiting for anyone.” I pat his shoulder and turn to leave. He says, “For Ruthie.” Which is how he ends every conversation. I feel bad for the poor bastard. In more ways than one.
    I walk back to work, with my head down, thinking about Richard and his words. That shit doesn’t mean anything. Not to me anyway.
    My thoughts are broken by my phone buzzing. For a moment, I think it’s Sophia and my stomach jumps making me stop and frown. I’ve never had that jump in my stomach when my phone rings.
    It’s my sister. My stomach twist for a whole new reason.
    “Hey,