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It was weird that I was so emotional after sex, but, hey, I had a lot going on.
So, no.
It wasn't something more.
It was just the culmination of a really fucked up year with me, a bad decision in calling him over, and a brief lowering of my guard.
"Yo, Len," Meryl's voice shook me out of my endless loop of thoughts. "I'm used to you phoning it in, but you literally have a fucking line standing here," he said, the words brusque, but his tone was almost a bit worried.
Christ, if Meryl was worried about me, then I really needed to get a hold of myself. He wasn't exactly an intuitive man. He wasn't picking up on a subtle vibe. If he was sensing I was off, it was because I was genuinely off my game.
I shot him an eye-roll for good measure, then dealt with my line of people signing up to ruin their lungs.
"You feeling alright there, Len?" Niblet, whose real name was a mystery to all of us even though he had been a regular since long before my time, asked from where he was standing with Meryl, talking about some new brewery he heard was opening.
"Five by five over here," I said, parroting a phrase I had picked up from one of my mother's many men, this one a decent blue-collar man a little too obsessed with things like his ham radio who taught me that the phrase meant everything was coming in loud and clear, that everything was good.
"You sure, 'cause that little shit just commented on you being braless, and it being cold in here. And you not only let him leave here with his balls attached, but said you would catch him around."
Fuck.
I guess I did do that.
In my defense, I wasn't paying close enough attention to hear what he was saying to me.
"Len," Meryl cut in, voice even more concerned than a few minutes before. "Is this about—"
"No," I cut him off, voice actually shrill.
Meryl was the only person - aside from family and the people at the hospital - who knew about my sister. This was only because I had needed to take a few days off to be at the hospital for the breakdown of the situation, and the futile begging for something other than what they kept telling me about her condition. But I had made it clear the day I came back that I didn't want to talk about it, that it was an off-limits topic.
"How about you cut out a little early?" he suggested, despite it barely being one AM.
Before I could open my mouth to ask if he was okay because he never so much as thought to give me the night off even when I had sliced my palm wide open on a broken beer bottle that some idiot was brandishing like a weapon. His solution to that had been a somewhat clean rag soaked in vodka wrapped around the wound.
This was why I had a long, raised, four-inch scar there still.
"Lenny, angel," a mildly familiar voice called, making my head shoot to the side even as Meryl snorted at the idea of anyone calling me an angel.
And there was, well, Cyrus. Of all people.
"Is that a Henchmen cut?" Meryl asked, clearly having half a hard-on at the idea of more business from the group.
Cyrus gave him a nod, his usual, charming, lopsided smile in place. "We seem to be out of Johnnie Red and Vodka. I volunteered to run out."
"And you came here?" I asked suspiciously because, prior to the keg situation sending Edison in our direction, no Henchmen ever stepped foot in our little hellhole.
"Of course he came here!" Meryl said, way too false-cheery. "Supporting local businesses and all that. I bet your friend Edison had nothing but good things to say about us here."
Cyrus smiled in my direction, eyes dancing. "I definitely remember hearing some nice things about Lenny here."
"Lenny? Of course!" Meryl went on. "She's like the store mascot."
"And by that he means the store's guard dog who may or may not be battling a case of rabies," I supplied, making Cyrus chuckle as I watched Meryl shuffle off to find the Johnnie Red mentioned as well as some vodka that was decidedly top shelf for our crappy place, but would be considered mid-shelf anywhere else. "Why don't you stop by after your shift, Lenny?" Cyrus suggested as Meryl put two bottles of each liquor on the counter - equivalent to more liquor sales than we had had the whole day, seeing as most of our customers were going for shit like Natty Ice and Pabst to save money. "We're going to need at least two more bottles of vodka," Cy commented, not even glancing at the bottles. "They drink it like water. But yeah, come. I heard Pagan singing your praises yesterday."
