quinn walker, 30, mom, daughter, bartender
"the kid on the skateboard, that's my son— he's a little shit, but I love him to death. My old man owns the Sand Bar, like his dad before him, and I man the deck. I throw a mean punch and know how to swear in sixteen different languages. I'll gladly pour you a drink and listen to your sappy stories, but just don't tell me how to raise my kid.
This must’ve been the 1,300 time he’d washed his hands today. He stood in the kitchen, elbows resting on the edge of porcelain sink as he scrubbed over his knuckles, wringing his hands with the type of persistence that only encouraged the suds to multiply.
“Dad, mom said you might know where my gym bag is.” Duke turned, eyebrows rising as he pretended he wasn’t two minutes from falling asleep over the clean dishes. “Uh – yeah, Sweetie.” It was only just then that he realized the water was scalding. Yanking his hands back he focused on his daughter’s question as he came back into his own. “I think I did. So weird. It could be right where it belongs but I don’t remember.” Duke nodded towards the entry way & Daisy was quick to spin around & find her bag hanging off a hook by her backpack. She tried not to smile; instead making a sour face that Duke instantly mimicked causing her to break. “Thanks, Dad!” Duke said, moving back to the sink to turn the faucet off. “Thank you, Dad.” Daisy said rolling her eyes before wishing him a goodnight for the second time. The mundane seeped back into the sweet moment as Duke reached, alone once more, for a towel to dry his hands off. He stared idly out the kitchen window. A pair of headlights kept his attention as they rounded the street & came to a halt just shy of his driveway. He quirked a brow before recognition set in & a smile formed. He tossed the towel on the counter but before he could move away from the sink, Quinn’s car was pulling away. He watched the break lights disappear with a quizzical look. Pulling his phone off the charger as he went, Duke walked to the front door but the car, he’d at least thought was his best friend’s, was out of sight. Pushing a sleeve of his dress shirt back towards his elbow, Duke found her number & held the phone to his ear, eyes still watching the street waiting for the headlights to return. As the phone continued to ring, he lost hope, ended the call & instead settled for a text. Leaning against the foyer wall, Duke tried to ignore the soft sense of alarm that was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach. ‘Did you just drive by?’ Duke sent the text but held onto his phone as he caught his dark reflection in a picture frame. His lips pursed automatically as he raised a hand to correct his hair but he knew better than to hope it would obey. He was more concerned with the circles under his eyes. His frown deepened further as he instinctively looked towards his phone again only to find that there were no alerts.
A part of him wanted to get in his car & go off in the direction she’d gone but he had no idea where she was going, or why, so he resisted. However, that wasn’t his only deterrent. Lifting his chin to look at the ceiling above him he tried hard to listen for any sort of noise from his bedroom. He doubted Tara had fallen asleep yet but his leaving in the middle of the night would require an explanation no matter the circumstance or intention. His & Quinn’s friendship was a unique one, at least in regards to how close they were in spite of one of them being married. Guilt wasn’t something Duke ever felt in regards to his relationship with Quinn. He had nothing to hide & yet there he stood all of a sudden feeling like he was doing something inherently wrong. Unsure whether he was fighting his better judgment or just being overly cautious Duke quickly typed out another text: ‘You okay?’
It’s important to note that Duke quit smoking ten years ago. The cigarettes hiding in the garage in a tool box Duke never touched told a different story, however. The thought of the small red box acted as a beacon for Duke who navigated the dark downstairs off memory alone before he slid out the garage door. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d reached for one but the near instantaneous urge didn’t seem worth fighting. He flipped the light on & found the crushed up little box sitting right where he’d left it. In a matter of seconds he was sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette perched between his fingers & lips as he inhaled as deeply as humanly possible. He exhaled upwards, realizing only as he flicked the ashes to the smooth garage floor that this was an excellent way to get caught. But for some reason he stayed rooted, ready at a moment’s notice to hit the garage door, hold the cigarette between his teeth & meet Quinn wherever she was heading. Sliding his feet forward, Duke stretched, pulling his tie looser still as he drew in another calming breath of nicotine.
The air in the car was thick and stifling by the time they finished, the windows foggy and Quinn wanting to get out as fast as possible. The high was wearing off quickly now, leaving her a breathless mess who suddenly couldn't deal with the proximity of the stranger with his hands on her hips. She pushed off and reached over to open the door, closing her eyes and sighing contently under her breath when the cool air hit her damp skin, cooling it down quickly. She scrambled out of the car then, grabbing her shorts and pulling them on swiftly before she stood for a moment, enjoying the feel of the breeze.
"You okay there?" The man asked behind her, pulling her out of the moment and back to reality. She looked over her shoulder with a nod, walking back to find her top and jacket, not bothering with her bra when she realized it was on his side. "—so... maybe we could do this again?" He asked, flashing a toothy smile in a way that made her skin crawl now. She might have found him attractive enough for a little ten minute rendezvous in the backseat of his car, but that was pretty much it. "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head and pulling her top on. "It was fun, don't get me wrong, it's just not gonna happen again." She paused for a beat, looking at him before holding her hand up in a wave, just as she turned around on the empty parking lot and walked towards her own car.
She sat in front of the wheel for god knows how long until she realized she couldn't drive. She wanted to, but after three double bourbons and a scotch, she knew she was better off not doing it. She couldn't leave Jamie motherless too— not even if she felt a little like he would be better off at this point. Running a hand through her hair, she turned around to reach the backseat, remembering how she'd angrily tossed her phone back there when she'd first left. The messages and missed call from Duke instantly sparked an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of her stomach, a puzzled look soon forming on her face.
She was going to call a cab, but decided against it now, wondering if Duke would come and pick her up if she asked him to. She knew the answer to the question, but didn't really want to believe it. The last thing she wanted was to be dependent on someone, yet she couldn't deny the want to always see Duke whenever something, even the smallest things, happened in her life. 'At a bar just outside St. James.' She texted him, not wanting to call him in case he had gone to sleep by now, although she had a hunch his insomnia was acting up again. 'Can you come get me?' She followed up, immediately kicking herself internally when she hit send.
The next fifteen minutes were spent cursing under her breath, shaking her head at herself— it wasn't fair of her to drag him into her mess, especially not this one. Her weakest spot of them all had been Jamie the last five years. No one knew better than herself that she faked motherhood most of the time, pretending to know what the fuck she was doing, when she, in actuality, thought it was a miracle he was still alive.
The lights in the rearview mirror caught her attention then, pulling her out of her own head of shame and self-pity before she reached out and opened the door, getting out to face Duke.
Her breath hitched in her throat for a second, the specks of dust playing in the light of the lone bulb hanging over the dinner table. She was supposed to fix it months ago, but somewhere in the midst of it all, she had gotten used to the ugly sight of it dangling above the oatmeal she made for Jamie every morning or the takeout she usually placed in front of him on the few nights she was actually home to eat with him. It didn't happen often— especially not after she'd taken a second job, cleaning rich peoples' houses in the next town over. It was a fucking ridiculous job; cleaning marble countertops and floors that had seen more Möet than dust over the years, while her own home looked like the place where laundry and dust bunnies came to die.
And now, plates as well.
Moving a hand to cover her mouth, her cold fingertips touched her lips as she fought back the sob that dislodged from her throat, salty tears trailing down her cheeks before she quickly caught them with the back of her hands, furiously trying to convince herself it wasn't happening. She wasn't a crier after all, but as she sunk down onto the floor, feet scrambling against the broken plates and leftover mash and peas, it was hard to believe it. Why she had even bothered cooking tonight was beyond her now; even if she knew it had been her guilty mind forcing her to. Jamie had always been a kid in his own league— opinionated and wise beyond his years, independent like his mom and uncle, and inquisitive like no one else.
He was a handful, and even though Quinn knew that, she had never expected it to be a bad thing; not in this way at least. Back in New York, she had been like many other parents, raising a kid on their own. Jamie had been used to his classmates only having one parent show up at school plays and swim meets, just like him, but here... He'd soon realized his family wasn't so normal after all with all his friends bragging about their dads, their summer vacations and timeshares and what the fuck not. Quinn had ignored the nagging feeling that Jamie was changing right in front of her; growing resentful little by little every time she dropped him off at a friend's house instead of watching a movie with him, just so she could pick up an extra shift at the bar or at her new job. She knew she wasn't spending enough time with him, but she kept brushing off her guilt by convincing herself she was doing it for his sake; that this was the only way to eventually be able to send him to college.
It was no comfort to her now. Not after watching him smirk at her when she had told him no and asked him to sit down and eat. It was the first time she had ever seen him use her determination as fuel to test boundaries and turn a 'no' into a 'yes', just to get his way. She knew it was all a part of raising a kid, especially a boy, but when she felt the sincerity behind his voice as he blamed her for not being around; for not cooking dinners the way Taylor's mom did, and for being 'stupid' for taking his dad away... Quinn had been speechless, sitting across from him with her fork in her hand, blinking incoherently to try and find her voice, until eventually he had knocked his glass of milk off the table on purpose, and thrown his plate of food against the kitchen counter in a fit of rage, not even flinching once when Quinn tried to grab him, yelling at him to stop.
"I hate you, I hate you! I wish I had another mom!"
The words had been screamed at the top of his small lungs, his chest rising and falling with anger as he dug his nails into her wrists, kicking and screaming before he shoved her roughly and stormed off to his room, leaving Quinn in a mess of broken glass and plaster. She wasn't sure for how long she was sitting there, stifling the whimpers that disgusted her to no end— she didn't want to be this pathetic, fragile excuse of a woman who couldn't even deal with a five year old, but the truth was, and had always been; she had no idea what the fuck she was doing, and she would always be more likely to believe she was a bad mom, than a good one.
Drying her eyes she planted her palms on the floor, ignoring the broken glass as she pushed off and got to her feet, running the back of her hand under her nose before she dusted herself off, blinking a couple of times as she took in the mess with a shameful look on her face. The best thing about living in the house behind the bar, was definitely the time she saved on going back and forth, and even though it wasn't always great living so close to drunk people, it served her well tonight.
"Sawyer," she said, throwing on a jacket as she pushed through the doors to the back of the bar. "Look after Jamie, will you? Just leave him alone, he's in his room. You can get Michael to cover for you here if he acts up." She kept moving, turning her back to her brother so he wouldn't see her face, a sigh soon falling from her lips when he of course immediately objected, asking questions. "Just fucking do this for me, Sawyer, okay? I'll babysit your college sluts any day of the week if you just do this for me, no fucking questions asked!" She snarled, not stopping before she was out of the bar and next to her car.
Slowing her car to a stop outside Duke's house, Quinn questioned why her mind always went to him whenever something happened in her life, whether good or bad. It made no sense— they were so different in so many ways; he had a wife and kids, and she had a dying dad, a brother and one very resentful kid, yet she still easily considered him her best friend. She bowed her head for a second, licking her chapped lips before she looked out of her window at Duke's home again, wondering what he was doing. Maybe he was going over journals for work, sitting behind a bigass desk and sipping his scotch? Or maybe he was having a glass of wine in the living room with Tara, enjoying the quiet time after the kids had been put to bed. Whatever he was doing, she knew he couldn't give her what she wanted the most right now, not even if she wanted to see him more than anyone else, and when she didn't really want to see anyone else.
Casting a last glance in the direction of the Griffin house, Quinn sighed and pulled out onto the street again, driving off until she hit the next town over. Since she worked in the area, she knew exactly where to stop. Every day when she drove home, she had to force herself not to stop at the small bar located at the outskirts of the town. The worst and best thing about Southport was the fact that there was only one bar— it was good for business of course, but it also meant she could never have a drink by herself without people asking questions or sticking their nose where it didn't belong.
"Bourbon. Double— no ice." She mumbled after plopping down on one of the stools by the bar, leaning over the counter with a sigh before wiping her palms down her face. "You alright there?" The bartender asked when he placed her drink in front of her, eyeing her somewhat suspiciously with what might as well have been concern in his eyes. "Oh, please," she shook her head, clearly disgusted by his tone of voice. "I don't know what kind of fucking cliché bartender you are, but I can assure you, I'm not the that kind of customer, so don't even bother." She rolled her eyes and wrapped her fingers around the glass, knocking back the liquid in one go with a grimace on her face. "One more." She ordered, pointing her finger at the glass before sliding it across the surface.
"Not a fan of pouring your heart out to bartenders, huh?" A tall man walked up next to her, nodding to the bartender before ordering and eventually looking over at Quinn, who eyed him critically, her eyebrows drawn together. "—I'm not either. I'm here to drown my sorrows, not talk about them." He added before sliding onto the stool next to hers. "That better be true," she finally said, bringing the newly filled glass in her hand to her lips, taking a long sip before she looked over at the man again. He was attractive, probably in his mid forties and with an arrogant, self-assured kind of smirk on his face that she could do nothing but loathe and find attractive at the same time.
It didn't take much more than two drinks and twelve minutes of meaningless small-talk before Quinn found herself in the backseat of his car, letting him pull off her jacket and top as she shimmied out of her old denim shorts and straddled him like she was sixteen again, fucking the head-cheerleader's idiot boyfriend in the back of his ugly, show-off car. She pushed back a little, reaching down between the two of them to undo his jeans while he unclasped her bra and peeled it off of her shoulders, fingers trailing over her skin when her eyes locked on the wedding band on his left hand, her eyes immediately closing in an attempt to wipe it from her memory. She didn't care... Not tonight.
"You're so fucking beautiful—" he moaned against her neck when she slipped her hand into his boxers, closing her fingers around him. She gritted her teeth, ignoring his words and pressing her lips to his instead, trying to shut him up while her hand worked him harder. "Condom?" She breathed, pulling away and watching as he reached over into his jacket on the seat next to him, pulling out the foil packet and handing it to her. She rolled her eyes and bit it open, spitting out half the packet before rolling it onto him, only now noticing the angry scratch marks on her wrists from Jamie's nails. She paused for a beat, exhaling shakily before she brushed it off with a shake of her head, forcing herself not to focus on it as she slid her panties to the side instead.
"Fuck— fucking hell, baby—" he exclaimed, watching as Quinn lowered herself onto him with her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, her eyes sliding shut and her nails digging into his shoulders. "Oh, baby— you're so fucking hot." Her eyes fluttered open and her hand shut up to grip his chin, knuckles turning white for a second before she finally spoke. "I need you to shut up, okay?" She said, breathing heavily and waiting for him to nod. "Wh—what do you want me to do?" He asked, immediately eliciting an eye-roll from Quinn who let his chin go before she leaned in, almost hissing in his ear, slowly. "I want you to fuck me..." Moving her hips against him then, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes when she felt his hands on her hips, pressing her down onto him roughly.
Maybe it was crazy, maybe she would never grow up and out of this, and maybe Jamie would resent her forever for bringing him into a world where his dad wanted nothing to do with him, and where his mom would always be nothing but a lower class bar-owner, cutting out coupons and making him wear second hand clothing and knock-off Nikes. But at least in this moment, nails digging into some stranger's shoulders, sweat glistening on her naked skin as her body moved roughly against his, she could hold onto the sense of freedom that came with every moan, the feeling of being wanted when he snaked his hand down between them and pressed his thumb against her— it had been a long time since she had felt anything close to being appreciated, and she found herself craving it more than ever.
The moment might have been fleeting, but in a life where she had had less than no control lately— with her dad's health deteriorating and Jamie pushing her away, even ten minutes in the backseat of a sleek BMW with some married loser beat sitting at home, picking up the broken pieces of what was her life now...
“That sounds like a really expensive bath. Beats working out either way. But it is kind of funny for watch Harold Smith over there on the treadmill.”
“Expensive, but worth every penny, I can assure you that. Yeah, it smells like fucking jock strap in here— I don’t even know what we were thinking. In spite of old Harold Smith over there, I think we should just call this a day and go get drunk at the bar. What do you say?”
“Come to think of it – I wouldn’t like to run into myself before I’ve had my morning coffee either. It’s incredible the difference a few ounces of caffeine can make… So, in that, I may have to agree with you.”
“Honestly, I would trade my own kid for a cup of coffee if someone asked me before I had my usual morning coffee.”
“Ha ha, nice, but you know that’s not what I meant.” Angie teased the other woman, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Well then, go ahead!” She exclaimed, looking more like her usual self when she did so. “Aw, well that feeling’s totally mutual.” Her face lit up when she mentioned Jamie liking her; she needed to hear that right now. If Jamie adores her, how bad of a person she can be? “Uhm, yeah, she is. And it’s very confusing.” She admitted.
“No, I know I know. Awkwardness sucks a lot, I agree. I’m glad it’s not that bad anymore though.” Quinn turned to look at her friend, sending her a light smile then. “Are you serious? Cause you know I will, right? I’ll end up sending him over to your house all the time then. He’ll be happy and I’ll have time to get drunk and clean the house before he messes it up again.” She prompted a laugh, exhaling through her nose contently before looking over at Angie again, concern soon appearing on her face. “Wow. That must— that must be confusing, yeah. Are you okay? Does she know about you?”
“I swear to god, I’m never going to the gym with you again. This has got the be the worst idea ever— next time, let’s just go swimming... in scotch and beer, if you feel me.”
I’m sad I missed summer week, but the tourist season could be just as fun?
Don’t worry, Pops, you weren’t the only one. I decided to get out of town the only week where it’s fun to actually be in town... Timing was never my strong suit, it seems.
“When? Give me one scenario where awkwardness is fun.” Angie let out a grumpy chuckle, but brushed it off with a playful grin; it wasn’t Quinn’s fault that she’s cranky. “If you’re going to kick him out of the house, send him to me. You know how much I love children, Jaime in particular. Besides, give me half an hour with him and I’ll set his mind straight.” She winked. After all, she likes to think that she’s a good teacher and has made students who’re way worse than Jaime to behave. “Well, um- urgh.” Somehow, the words couldn’t leave her mouth. “She’s here, in Southport.”
"When it's happening to someone else and you're standing to the side, drinking a beer and eating popcorn while watching the awkwardness unfold?" Quinn offered, pretending to sound very very convincing and smart while doing so. She grinned then, noticing quickly that maybe Angie wasn't exactly in the mood for playing around right now, which instantly concerned her. "Oh, he'd love that! She assured her when the subject fell on Jamie again. "I bet he would behave nicely for you though. The little man adores you." She smiled, but then quickly wiped it from her face again when she heard Angie's next words. "What? She's— she's in Southport?!"
“& that’s why I love you. Well then I won’t assume that’s a lie, but even if you did, who knows if it was edible. You & Jamie should probably double up. Chinese sounds perfect though. Sound good to you?”
“That’s one of the reasons, yeah. It was edible! No one makes a mean mac n’ cheese like I do, you should remember that. Chinese is alwas good with me. You know what you want, or do you wanna look at the folder?”
Michael smiled at her sentiment. Honestly, if in the end, everyone just ended up happy for him, and Kathleen for that matter, he could handle the second guessing his choices now. He just didn’t want anyone mad at either of them for this because he was happy, and he was sure she was happy. Ruining someone’s day by being happy sucked. “Thank you, Quinn.” He nodded a bit then before he took a drink of the beer. “Not to change the subject too drastically, but I ran into someone the other day and she was looking for a job. I told her I’d ask if we had room here and here’s me officially asking.” When there was so few of them around there, they probably could use it, but it was safe to double-check.
“No problem, Michael.” Quinn glanced over at her friend, giving him a genuine nod to tell him she meant it, before she went back to wipe the counter— even if it was more than clean already. Or, well, as clean as it could be in an old place like the Sand Bar. Her ears picked up when he spoke next, her eyebrows drawing together thoughtfully for a quiet second. “What was she like?” She asked, knowing it took a certain someone to deal with the many different kinds of customers they saw in here. “I’ll have to discuss it with Sawyer, and check to see if we can afford hiring more people.” She honestly wasn’t sure at this point, but maybe it could free up some time for her to take on another job as well.
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