Audrey – Chapter 1: Ashford Hollow

Have you ever been in love?
It’s the best feeling in the world, right?
The rush, the warmth in your chest, the way every little thing suddenly matters.
How’d it happen for you? Love at first sight? A friend who became more? Maybe some stranger on a trip?
Some love stories start with fireworks and end with forever.
I wish mine was one of them.
It’s not.

Anyway, I’m Audrey. Twenty-five. Bartender at a little hole-in-the-wall called Miller’s. Counting the days until I can get out of this ridiculous town.
Ashford Hollow.
God, I hate it here. Same cracked sidewalks, same peeling paint, same faces I’ve been stuck with since I was a kid. And Miller’s? Don’t get me started. Same drunks every night, same stale beer smell clinging to my clothes. At least the regulars tip. The creeps? Not so much.
Some people call this place “charming.”
They like the old diners, the “low crime,” the quiet. Some blogger bragged about us being “low crime.” Two days later? Murder.
For me, this town’s just a graveyard with prettier packaging. My mom lasted a month here before she died. My dad lasted a few years longer, drinking himself into the same crowd until it killed him too, along with leaving me his debts. I paid them off, somehow. Kept a roof over my head.
Now it’s just me, this bar, and a life that feels stuck on pause. Never left town. Never even finished high school. I want more, a degree, a real job, a city that isn’t just one long dead end. San Francisco, maybe. Somewhere I’m not “bartender Audrey.” Just… me.

Medium-short black hair that never quite behaves, dark eyes that have seen every type of drunk this place can produce. Sometimes I catch my reflection in the beer taps, leaning on the counter, looking like I’ve been here since the day the building was built.
But hey, good things happen eventually, right?

“Audrey!”

The voice snaps me out of it.
Mindy’s waving from across the bar, yelling over the music.

“Where’d you drift off to? We’ve got customers!”

“Yeah, sorry,” I call back, grabbing a towel. “Just had something on my mind.”

“Careful, hun, or Max’ll be on your case again,” she teases.

“Yeah, yeah, like I care what that old fool thinks,” I mutter, heading toward the bar.

“What can I get you?” I ask, sliding up to the bar.

An old guy stares a second too long. “Two whiskeys, sweetheart.”

“Sure thing,” I say, plastering on a fake smile. Under my breath: “Pervert.”

The guy next to him snorts. “She’s probably your daughter’s age, Charles.”

“Younger,” Charles says, grinning. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I set the drinks down with a little more force than necessary and walk off before I say something that gets me fired.

“Even the fossils are flirting with you now,” Mindy says, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah. Living the dream,” I mutter, dropping onto a stool. “I need to get out of here before I turn into one of them.”

“It’s not that bad,” she says.

“It’s worse.”

She laughs. The door creaks open and in walks Max.

“Max,” I greet him, not bothering to hide the flatness in my voice.

“Hello, Audrey,” he says. Max is pushing sixty, ex-military, bald patch, sometimes glasses, always looking like he’s just stepped out of a war flashback.

“You okay, boss?” Mindy asks.

“Yeah. Just tired. How’s business?”

“Quiet,” she says.

“Perfect,” I add.

He gives me a look. “Quiet means I’m paying you two to stand around. Try looking busy before I fire you both.”

“What are we supposed to do if there are no customers?” I shoot back.

Max just grunts and walks off.

When he leaves, Mindy smirks. “Old guy’s got timing, I’ll give him that.”

“It’s his bar,” I say. “Guess he’s allowed to lurk.”

The night stays slow. Weeknight, barely any customers, just the regulars nursing their drinks. Fine by me. Quiet nights mean less babysitting.

Then the peace breaks with a thunk.
The door bangs open and in wanders some guy, swaying like the floor’s moving under him. I look at Mindy. She raises an eyebrow.

“Here we go,” I mutter.

He zigzags toward the bar. Messy blonde curls that probably look better in daylight, a few days of stubble, and a brown jacket that’s seen more adventures than I have. Even half-drunk, he carries himself with this lazy, self-assured charm, like he’s fully aware the doorway light’s framing him just right. He’s good-looking in a way that almost makes me forget he’s seconds from face-planting. Normally, drunks are just noise to me, but this one? Cute noise.

“Glaaass… of whissshhkey, pleeease,” he slurs.
Almost word-for-word. And yeah… it’s kind of funny.

“Miss… if you’re done starrring… maybe… the drink?” he says, trying to focus on me.

I smirk. “Whiskey? Yeah, I got that part. I was just wondering if you needed water instead… you know, before gravity wins.”

“I’m fine,” he says, wobbling. “Totally sober.”

“Right,” I say, already pouring.

From across the room: “Pour him one, Audrey. He’s paying.”

“I know, Max,” I call back.

The guy grins. “See? Even your boss wants me to have a drink.”

“Mm-hm.” I slide the glass to him.

His hand shakes as he picks it up, but he manages a sip. Then he looks me dead in the eye. “Thanks, hot bartender.”

I bite back a laugh and turn away.

Mindy drifts over. “Another drunk?”

“What gave it away?” I ask.

“At least he’s easy on the eyes. Beats Charles over there.”

I glance at the old man at the end of the bar and snort. “Can’t argue with that.”

The guy’s not like most drunks, no shouting, no spilling, no karaoke attempts. Just quietly working through his whiskey and ordering another when he’s done.

“Where’s he at now?” Mindy asks.

“Third, I think,” I say.

“Mmh.” She keeps watching.

Max strolls over to him. “You keep ordering like this when you’re already half in the bag? Either you’ve got money to burn or no brains at all.”

The guy looks up, grinning. “Yes, yes,” he says loudly. “I can definitely pay for a lottt.” He fishes out his wallet.

“Maybe save some for your hospital bill, genius.”

“Nonsense, I’m fineee,” he slurs, holding up his card—then promptly tips over and hits the floor.

“Knew it,” Mindy says, laughing.
I can’t help smiling at the sight.

Max nudges him with his boot. “Fantastic. Another one who thinks he can outdrink his own stupidity. Audrey, grab his card before he drools on it.”

“Can’t bend over yourself? Back gone out?” I tease, heading over.

“Back’s fine. I’m just old.”

I pick up the card, read the name aloud. “Evans Carter.”
Feeling amused.

To Be Continued in Chapter 2