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Dad digging into the wound by asking if I’d been fired had not helped my shitty mood.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.
I motioned for Rocco to settle up and paid my tab. I didn’t want to be there anymore.
Outside, the cold air bit through my jacket. The night sky was clear, stars twinkling in the darkness. I headed for my truck, but I didn’t want to go home. I’d just wind up sitting around brooding.
On a whim, I headed for the Caboose. Traditionally, the Caboose was the Bailey hangout, while the Timberbeast was ours. Those lines didn’t really exist in Tilikum anymore. My brothers and I frequented Rocco’s bar out of habit, not feud loyalty. Maybe I just needed a change of scenery—and another drink.
True to its name, the exterior of the Caboose looked like an old railroad car. The inside was decorated with vintage railroad signs and model trains, and a jukebox pumped out music.
Ignoring the pool tables and dart boards, I headed for the bar. A woman with a silver pixie cut caught my eye. What was Sandra doing there?
Sandra O’Neal was probably in her fifties and worked with Audrey at the newspaper. More importantly, she was dating Rocco. Why would she be hanging out at someone else’s bar?
I took the stool next to her and nudged her with my elbow. “Hey. What are you doing in here?”
“Pouting. What about you?”
“Same.”
“Must be something in the air.”
The bartender came over and I ordered a tequila shot and a beer.
“Want another drink?” I asked Sandra.
“Sure, why not? But no tequila for me. I’ll take a shot of whiskey instead.”
We got our drinks and lifted the shot glasses.
“What should we drink to?” she asked.
“To drowning our sorrows.”
We clinked the shot glasses and drank.
A few moments passed in silence before I decided to speak up. “Wanna talk about it?”
“To you?”
“Why not?”
“I just didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Try me.”
“Rocco and I had our first fight. Turns out, he’s a walk away from conflict guy and I’m a stay and fight it out gal. Not the best combination. So now he’s at work, probably not thinking about it at all because he’s busy, while I’m here, wondering what it all means.”
I took a drink of my beer. “That sucks.”
“Right? If he wouldn’t have walked away, we could have hashed it out. He claims he hates drama, but he sure is causing a lot of it.”
“I hate that shit. Why drag something out when you can just talk?”
She looked at me as if she wasn’t sure what to think. “Do you mean that or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”
“I mean it. My dad pulls that same crap and it drives me up the wall. He gets mad, walks away, and I’m like, okay Dad, go ahead and hide in your shop. That will make it all better.”
