The Hardest Part

Chapter One

Sookie's POV

I've got a reputation for being a bit of a bitch.

Well, strictly speaking, I wouldn't define myself as that. That's a word I'd reserve either for a dog, or for those types of people who make an obvious point of talking badly about you to your face; I've encountered plenty of those in my time and they don't even bother disguising the fact that they're looking straight down their pointy noses at me.

Those two definitions are very similar, anyhow.

I see myself as more... honest. Yeah, that's me. My Gran, God rest her soul, always believed in telling the truth and that's what I do. Perhaps sometimes my brutal honesty hurts, but surely it's better to be stung by reality than satisfied by fantasy?

Yet some of the residents here in Bon Temps obviously don't agree with my philosophy; I've received more dirty looks than I can even recall and my boss, Sam Merlotte, has even had to warn me in the past to keep my comments to myself. Working as a waitress in his bar, he's clearly worried about losing customers, because they go there to escape from their troubles, not to receive abuse from a blonde barmaid who has a bit of a mouth on her. I like to think that he's giving me advice as a friend, not just as an employee, as we've got along brilliantly ever since he hired me so long ago. In fact, sometimes it seems as though we've gotten along a little too well, and things nearly escalated beyond our control.

I mean, he's a very handsome man; sometimes when he storms out of his office with his face flushed and his hair ruffled like a messy golden halo, I can't help admiring him. Plus, he also has a kind heart and wants the best for almost everyone.

But that'd make things even more complicated.

So now, whenever I go into work and start serving, I aim to keep my thoughts held in where they belong. It takes a lot of effort and a heck of a lot of lip-biting, but I've just about managed.

Until today.

I was working the night shift at Merlotte's, and as soon as I stepped through the door and into the office to store away my things, I somehow knew it was gonna be a rough night. It was a little rowdier than usual, with all kinds of people demanding to be catered to; I was rushed off my feet with orders coming from every direction.

As well as this, a group of young boys had helpfully decided to turn the jukebox in the corner up to its loudest volume, and I often had to ask the customers to repeat their orders. That earned me plenty of looks of exasperation and mutterings about me being slightly dim.

In my flushed state, I almost made a comment about how large Portia Bellefleur was looking when she demanded where her extra large portion of fries were.

The night passed by in some crazy blur; I managed my best smile that I'd had so much practice at faking, I served all kinds of unhealthy food that the customers were happy enough to gorge on, I made polite conversation whenever it was possible.

I fell into the false hope that perhaps it was getting slowly better when the pace decreased a little at around eleven thirty. I glanced around my area and everybody seemed happy enough; nobody was screaming at me for anything else, at least. Bearing this in mind, I headed towards the bar to Arlene, my flame-haired colleague, who gave me a look of exhaustion.

"Believe me, Sookie, I sure will be glad to get outta here tonight, it's been crazy!"

I nodded in agreement; my bed had never felt more appealing.

"Hey, are you alright?" Her oddly piercing eyes scanned my face; had my guard slipped? "You're looking a bit more stressed than usual."

"Cheers, Arlene," I muttered bitterly. "That's good to know." She had the habit of saying whatever came out of her mouth without warning; it was like she didn't have a barrier between her brain and her mouth like most people do. Saying that perhaps would be a little hypocritical of me, but I can at least control myself on occasions.

She also had the habit of being very personal and inquisitive, to put it mildly. She seemed to think that she deserved to know everybody's business. Everybody's.

That's why she's best in small doses.

"Oh Sookie, you know I didn't mean it like that!" Yes you did. "I'm just concerned for you!" No you're not, you just want something to talk about with the others which will make you seem interesting.

I didn't feel like replying. It would have only sounded false, so I just pretended to wipe away at the counter, even though it was practically shining already.

She surprised me then, though, by leaning in close. It was closer than I felt comfortable with, but the words that she whispered into my ear made me forget all that.

"Is it because of Jason?"

The cloth in my hand leaked all kinds of liquids onto the surface as I squeezed it tightly in shock.

Around me, the subject of my brother had become a kind of taboo. After all the months, I'd managed to push it to the back of my mind, even though in the most darkest moments, usually during the middle of the night, it would crawl back out to haunt me.

Most people in Bon Temps were considerate; they knew how much it hurt me and avoided the topic.

But Arlene had willingly brought it up as though it were something as normal as the weather.

"Arlene. You thoughtless, cruel..." I trailed off, aware that I was gathering a few stares.

Then I thought, screw it. All thoughts of being rational left me, and I scowled at her with rage burning from my eyes. "Do you even think before everything comes pouring out of your mouth? Or are you just so goddamn thick that you can't see that your words can sometimes hurt people? You do it so often I sometimes wonder how people can even tolerate you!"

Her heavily made-up eyes widened in surprise. Good. "Sookie, I-"

"Don't you try and excuse yourself! You know how much pain thinking of my brother causes me! Dammit, I can't even bear to say his name anymore and you just carelessly bring it up!"

"Oh, so it's my fault that he's behind bars, is it?"

That was the moment when I lost all control, and my hand connected with her cheek.

It all went crazy after that, and the only thing that stuck in my mind and regsitered with me was the look on Sam's face as he witnessed my action. His eyes said it all; the bitter disappointment, the regret, the sadness.

He knew what he had to do, and so did I.

"Sookie, get here now."

His voice commanded authority, and it somehow sounded both flat and ominous at the same time. He didn't bother saying please.

Without looking at Arlene or the group of people who'd tried to separate us, I strode over to his office and he followed, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

There was a brief pause.

"Sam-"

"No, Sookie, just don't!" His normally friendly eyes blazed as he cut me off. "You can't act like that! Behaving that way in front of customers is just... it's unacceptable!"

"Please, I-"

"Sookie, I... I've got no choice. You know that."

Everything seemed to suddenly turn a little blurry. I felt dizzy as the force of his words hit home.

I was going to lose my job.

This can't be happening...

"Please Sam, I'm so sorry!" My words were full of sincerity.

"You probably are, but right now you're a liability." His hands ran through his tangled hair. "Maybe in a few weeks when you're more stable, maybe then you can have your job back. But, in the past, you've just been too... too vocal about things. You need to control yourself."

"But I'm a good barmaid!" I protested.

"You are. And you'll be even better after a break. Trust me, it's for eveybody's benefit, including yourself. A lot has happened which you've had to deal with."

"I've been perfectly fine, thank you," I said, knowing it was a lie.

"You're not fooling me, Sookie." He knew me too well.

"But the money, Sam-" That sounded more pathetic and weak than I'd intended, but I managed to hold back any tears. Just about.

"I'll pay you for the work you've done up until tonight, but apart from that I can't help you."

He was supposed to be my friend.

Maybe I'd been deluded all the time. Perhaps he was just my employer after all.

There was no use arguing any further. This was my punishment and, as much as it tore me apart, I had to accept it. I'd done wrong.

As had my brother.

I left the office without another look from him.

The walk through the bar and outside was painful. There were whispers, irritating hissing sounds, but I kept my eyes on the floor at my trainers, and it occured to me that I'd probably have to return my uniform at some point.

Doing that tonight would have just been too agonising. Too final. It sounded silly, but that's how I felt.

I got to my car and didn't even think. I drove and drove, trying not to sob.

Eventually, after an amount of time I couldn't even begin to calculate, I had to stop the car. My tears were blurring my vision, and that was just dangerous.

I took the next right and stopped off at a random bar called Northman's. That was like another stab to the chest, but I tried to ignore it. When I cut off the engine, it was eerily silent apart from a few distant cheers, and I sat with my head on the wheel for a good five minutes, feeling down. Why were they entitled to happiness and not good people like me?

I tried not to think, but my head was a tangled mess.

When it finally became overwhelming, I sat upright and dabbed at my stained eyes in the mirror. Following that, I wiped my nose with a tissue from my pocket (thank goodness I had one) and then headed outside towards the bar.

Tonight was one of those rare nights when I just needed to forget everything. The world seemed horrible right then, and I was just going to indulge. I'd probably regret it, but that didn't matter at that moment.

Inside, it was incredibly hot and busy. Not friendly like Merlotte's, was my first thought. I pushed that aside with all my power and made my way through the dancing crowd. The music throbbed and pulsed even louder than it did in Merlotte's, and again I felt a twinge of regret at feeling irritated by it.

When I reached the bar, I slumped down onto the nearest stool and threw my bag on the counter with a little more force than was strictly necessary. I received a few curious glances from those around me, but they quickly returned their focus to their business, whether it was trying to get a woman into bed or longing to drink themselves out of their sorrow.

I supposed I kind of fitted into the latter category. How depressing.

With that thought weighing on my mind, I ordered a rum and Coke without even glancing up at the bartender. Flashes of what had happened just earlier in Merlotte's kept flickering through my mind in some horrible kind of slideshow; the one thing that repeatedly stuck out, though, was Sam's face of bitter disappointment. It hurt like a knife being twisted in my chest and I knew it would haunt me.

"If it's not too much to ask, it would be nice for you to acknowledge my existence, or at the very least pay for your beverage."

A low and surprisingly rich voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced up – way up – to the man behind the bar who was speaking to me.

He was just... he...

Oh my.

It took a lot of effort to force some words out after seeing him. It was childish and pathetic of me to react in such a way, and it very rarely happened, but I found comfort by the fact that everybody else here probably acted the same way around him.

His eyes were the first thing that stood out; they were bright and receptive, but there was also a hint of sadness there. They were bright blue, like a sky on the sunniest day, and had a way of drawing me in, as though I were his prey.

I wish.

His skin was creamy under the fluorescent bar lights and there was the lightest trace of stubble across his jawline. His hair was blond, slightly darker than mine, and it was combed back; perhaps he'd been running his long fingers which gripped my glass through it.

Oooh.

He was wearing black, tightly fitted clothes, and a leather jacket over the top which, strangely, protected his neck. I also saw a trace of a dark tattoo somewhere on his chest, but he suddenly moved and the fabric covered it.

All this analysis happened within a few seconds and I reminded myself to speak.

Oh boy, I had most definitely acknowledged his existence.

I raised my eyebrows suddenly, remembering what else he'd said. "And how much will the said beverage be?"

His face didn't even flicker as he replied. "$2.95."

"Bit steep," I muttered, handing him the money regardless. With the smallest of movements, he nodded his head in what I assumed was thanks, and began to serve those around us.

It was hard not to stare, but the truth was that I had nobody else in there with me. Everybody was occupied with those around them, and I suddenly felt even more lonely. Because of my nature, there were very few people out there who understood me; there was Sam... and Tara, my only friend. The single reason why we'd bonded so well was because we were alike; we're both blunt and in need of somebody.

That was enough to make my throat feel suddenly raw.

Maybe I'd have to cross Sam off that very short list now.

Without hesitation, I downed a large part of my drink. It helped a little, and the kick of the alcohol warmed me up. Some part of my subconscious was reminding me to be careful; I didn't fancy turning into one of those crazy alcoholics that regularly hung around Merlotte's. (Again, a pang of pain.) It was a sore sight whenever somebody like that was in the room; I could never decide whether I felt pitiful or disgusted.

That brief pondering kept me occupied for all of a minute. Then, I began to look around and caught the eyes of Sexy Barman.

Wait, I did not just mentally call him that...

Checking myself, I searched desperately for something to make me look less alone; I didn't want to look so sad in front of him.

I came up with nothing.

Fuck, this was a bad idea.

"Do you work in Merlotte's?"

The mention of the familiar name caught my attention and I glanced up to see Sexy Barman looking straight at me expectantly. His face was still blank, but his eyes strayed to my chest.

Normally, that kind of behaviour would have been worth a slap, but I quickly gathered that he was referring to the Merlotte's badge that was on my T Shirt. In my rage and shock, I hadn't bothered changing.

It saddened me that the real answer to his question was a negative.

But I couldn't say that.

"No, I'm just wearing the uniform for fun."

That hadn't meant to come out quite so sarcastically, but he remained unphased; the only change in his expression was the slight narrowing of his eyes. "I have a question." He spoke slowly, emphasising each syllable with alarming appeal. "What's it like working with such a jerk?"

My jaw clenched in anger and any attraction flew straight out of the window. A complete stranger speaking about Sam in such a way, despite what had just happened, was enough to make me want to throw my drink all over his goddamn face, even though it'd be a waste. Instead, I took a deep breath and looked at him levelly. "I don't know. Maybe I could ask somebody who works here with you."

The corners of his lips may have tugged up briefly, I wasn't too sure, but he quickly turned away and disappeared.

What a fucking... argh, there weren't even words. Sam was the most genuine, wonderful man I knew, and hearing somebody calling him a jerk like that was-

I stopped in my thoughts. He must have done something to make the Asshole Barman speak bad of him...

All sorts of possibilities began picking away at my state of mind. I knew Sam had the tendency to get a bit irritable sometimes; today was a perfect example, but perhaps that was understandable.

But I just couldn't stop wondering.

For crying out loud. I'd wanted to forget...

Cursing the Asshole Barman once more and downing the rest of my drink, I scooted out of there as quickly as was possible. I'd only consumed a minimal amount of alcohol, so I headed straight for my car and sat down at the wheel for two minutes straight, just thinking.

How had this rattled me so much?

A voice in my head taunted me with the answer. Because you can't bear to think that one of the very few people you trust would do anything bad.

With a stupid angry outburst aimed at the steering wheel, I decided to finally start the engine and head home. My empty home.

Two men dominated my thoughts the entire time.