AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ready, Bill? I think we’d have more fun somewhere else.”
Grace breathes in my ear, and at this point, my mind is racing. This place has become too much for me to take. I feel everything and nothing all at once, and I’m confused by what’s being said and whatI’m seeing. Adley stares intently and I hold her look. Channeling my thoughts, I narrow it down to just needing another beer.
Do I stay? Do I go?
When Adley doesn’t make a move, and I see Steve approach her side, I make a choice.
“Let’s go.”
Dropping my eyes from hers, I curl Grace and Angela into my side, and we leave the bar without another word to anyone.
CHAPTER FIVE
BILLY
It’s beena week since I saw Adley, and she was with Steve, so it doesn’t really count becauseI didn’t get to spend time with her. I barely got a few words in, and that was my fault. If I had come alone to the bar, maybe things would have gone differently. I haven’t seen her in town either, and I want to ask Chelsea, but I can’t because Adam and I are fighting, and I know my family is sick of me and my shit right now.
I got shitfaced once we left the bar that night. Grace and her friend held my interest for about three minutes, and then I just let it all happen. I never slept, choosing everything I could get my hands on to get through the night.
Beer.
Shots.
More.
I didn’t want to think about my brother and what he was doing overseas.
I didn’t want to dream about the woman I desire to know more about. I didn’t want to think about her with someone else or think about the chance I’m missing out on.
And I definitely didn’t want to believe that one woman could cross my path and completely change my view on relationships.
Because that’s what Adley is doing to me.
So, I dulled it with my terrible vices.
I showed up to work the next day, still hungover. Dad was not happy, and the week only got worse as it went on. The wrong tiles were ordered for a job down on Main. The wood for the roofing job on Gum Drop Lane didn’t show in time and when Tom tried calling, the call wouldn’t connect. I let all the little things add up to one big thing and I used that as an excuse to rage drink.
This time, I didn’t show up for work at all. When Adam came looking for me, I picked a fight. Then I went out drinking again, only to be met by Officer Hunter as I left the bar and tried to get into my truck. Instead of driving me to my house, he brought me to my parents, which pissed me off even more because, for one, stop stressing out my poor mother, I do that enough already. And two, him trying to assert himself as boss over me when I saw him out just the other night irks the shit out of me.
So, after another awful week of work, you’d think seeing my dad's disappointed face daily would be enough to sober me up, but no, the anger comes to the forefront and the only way to calm it is to drink it away.
Since I can’t go to Moose’s Bar, I jump in my truck and drive twenty miles out of town for a drink. Dealing with anyone I know is the last thing I need right now, and I definitely don’t need the judgey looks from the busybodies in town.
Parking my truck at the local dive bar in the neighboring town, Sweetstown, I strip out of my House O’Love tank and throw on a plain t-shirt from the back seat. Pulling on a hat, I enter the place and head for the empty stool at the end of the bar. It’s a smaller bar than Moose’s, but it has the same small town feel. Sweetstown is verysimilar to Christmas, complete with football mania. Growing up, they were a rival to our Christmas Comets team.
“Hey, pal, what can I get ya?”
“Beer with a tequila shot, please.”
The bartender knocks on the bar, and in no time flat has my drinks in front of me. The place is semi-quiet, but the workday is just ending, so I expect it to fill quickly. I scroll through my phone, reading old texts from my brother and from our family chat, downing my beer almost immediately. I slide it out in front of me, signaling I need another. Grabbing the shot, I throw it back as the bartender comes close. “Keep ‘em coming, bud.” He nods once and refills both.
Pulling my drinks closer, I notice a couple sitting to the right of me. The woman is sitting closest to me, and her date sits facing her. As I slide my stool to the left to give them room, I glance quickly then do a double take, narrowing my eyes.
How do I know that guy?
Dropping my eyes from him, I pull my hat lower, needing to stay inconspicuous. I should have just gone home and drank there, but knowing my family, they’d stop by at some point to check in and criticize my behavior. They’d be right to do it, but I don’t want to hear it. Clearly, I should take tonight off, but that’s what happens after I binge. I feel worse, and the only thing to do is drink again to dull the voices reminding me of all I did wrong, the guilt and shame that comes overwhelming me.
The laughter of the woman next to me brings my attention back to them. His hand is on the back of her stool, the other laying in front of her on the bar, caging her in. She’s leaning toward him and laughs again as he hides his face in her neck.
