Page 44 of Reign

The old familiar sense of adventure crackled through Sam. Work as a bartender for the night? There were a million reasons it was a terrible idea.

“I’d love to,” she declared.

She’dbeen outto bars plenty of times in her life. Surely she could handle being on the other side of things for once.

After that, the night passed in a blur of beer bottles and shouted demands, of credit-card receipts and customers whining when she got their drink orders wrong. Sam felt like she was running from one crisis to the next, she and the other bartenders elbowing past each other as they navigated the length of the bar. Her feet hurt in her strappy heels and she sliced her hand chopping limes and the cut stung when she accidentally got vodka on it.

It was exhilarating.

Whenever she could catch her breath, Sam stole a proud glance at the stage. Liam’s band really was good. Their music seemed to echo the pulse of her heartbeat, its emotion raw and vulnerable yet somehow strong, too.

Eventually, the room dissolved in hoarse shouts and applause, and the houselights went up.

Sam blinked, wishing she could look at her phone to check the time; wasn’t this bar open until two a.m.? Had it really gotten that late? She focused on handing over the last few receipts, waiting as security slowly shuffled everyone out of Enclave, the stage lights dimming and then goingoff.

“New girl, you did okay tonight.” The manager peeled some bills from a stack and handed them to her.

Sam fought back a smile. The cash felt almost hot in her hand, as if it radiated its own energy. This was the very first money she’d ever earned on her own—or at least the first American money. And it felt somehow more momentous than everything Brad had paid her back in Hawaii, because she was doing it here, on her home turf.

“Who wants a drink?” Liam came to stand behind her and Jessica, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “I’d say we’ve earned one.”

“Isn’t the bar closed?” Sam asked.

Liam laughed appreciatively. “It’s closed to the general public, but we work here. We’re just grabbing our closing drink.” He took a few beer bottles from behind the bar and began handing them out. The rest of the bartenders and security staff started gathering around: a much smaller group than had been in this room half an hour ago, yet the space vibrated with noise as everyone struggled to be heard over one another.

“I’m telling you, the way people responded to ‘Not This Time’! I told you that song was a winner—”

“Did you see Jenna in the audience? She and Nat are back together—”

“No!Again?”

“We need to stock more bar mops behind the bar, it’s getting way too stressful halfway through shift—”

Someone plugged their phone into an aux cord; Amber kicked off her shoes and began twirling a slow circle barefoot, laughing deliriously until Talal came and swept her off her feet. Sam felt a sudden rush of affection for them all.

“So? You really worked behind the bar tonight?” Liam asked.

“It went great. No problems at all,” she assured him before he could ask if she’d been recognized.

Perhaps that was the strangest thing about the entire night: that no one had realized who she was. It might have been the dim lighting, or the haircut and fedora, but Sam suspected that a huge factor was the fact that she’d been behind the bar rather than out in the crowd. Everyone had been so focused on getting their drinks and returning to the concert that they’d hardly glanced at her face—had looked through her, notather.

“Hey, Martha!” Jessica called out, holding the phone that was plugged into the speakers. “What’s your favorite song?”

A giddy exhilaration coursed through Sam. Her entire life, people had made snap judgments about her—had decided what they thought of her before they even met her. It was such a relief to interact with someone without a host of preconceived notions and opinions in the way.

She hesitated a moment, then went to Jessica, who obediently passed her the phone. Sam kept scrolling until she found what she was looking for.

The opening notes of the song—a vibrant guitar riff, intercut with a saxophone—echoed through the room. A few people let out shouts of excitement or began laughing. “Do you remember…,” the entire room sang at once.

As the song built through the chorus, everyone’s voices drew out the last vowels: “Never was a cloudy dayyyy!”

Liam laughed approvingly. “I should have known you had good taste in music. Here’s to that,” he added, holding up his beer bottle to Sam’s.

Sam clinked her glass to his. “And to new beginnings,” she told him, smiling.

“Who is this?” Anju clicked to bring up another image on the projector.

Beatrice immediately recognized the person in the photo, though Anju was trying to trick her, using a picture of this young woman in leggings instead of a tiara. “That’s Princess Louise.”My friend,some part of her wanted to add, but she pursed her lips and said nothing.