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The only people sitting at the bar that I don’t immediately recognize are a man and a woman, presumably on a date. She’s dressed nicely but not provocatively or overdone, a pretty green blouse that complements her reddish-blonde hair and a modest, knee-length skirt. He’s more casual in a T-shirt and jeans. What’s left of his dark hair is unkempt, but she clearly spent some time with hers. He leans toward her to speak over the music, but she leans back a little when he does. Her smile is fake, and I conclude that this is a first date, and it’s not going well for her.
“You should go talk to her.”
I startle slightly, not expecting my father to suddenly lean over my shoulder. I didn’t even know he was here.
“She’s with a date.”
“So what?”
“So, she’s busy.” I turn my head to stare him in the eye, not wanting to let him intimidate me here, of all places. “What are you even doing here, Dad? This isn’t your scene.”
“Checking up on you is my scene.”
“Not here. You hate this place.”
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to make progress.”
“What kind of progress are you making tonight?”
“You’re attracted to her.” He nods over to the woman at the bar. “I’m here to push you to go get her.”
“She’s with a date, dammit.”
“It won’t last.”
He could be right about that. Her posture is stiff, but the guy continues to wave his hands around as he talks and laughs. She clearly isn’t enjoying herself, and her date is oblivious to the way she turns away from him, fiddles with her hair, and looks up at the television on the wall as he talks.
Maybe I should ask her to dance.
I check out the dance floor, which is full of those college kids writhing around and jumping to the strong bass. A few more join the dancing. The floor starts to fill up as I look back at the woman at the bar and take a sip of my bourbon. My father backs away as a few people come up to me offering their support in my new role, but I’m not in the mood to talk business.
“Mr. Orso, it’s good to see you. I wonder if you’ve considered my offer…”
“Great DJ, Mr. Orso!”
“Let me offer my condolences…”
I close my eyes, ignoring all their words as I politely get rid of them, one by one. I don’t need to hear additional offers of sympathies tonight. I’m well aware that this luxurious couch, much like the office chair, is supposed to hold Micha’s ass by now, not mine. I don’t need the reminder that he’s gone.
I open my eyes. My father has departed, hopefully to go home. When I look back at the woman at the bar, I see Antony standing next to her date. Antony leans over the bar, grabs a bottle of vodka, and checks the label while Jude tries to get it back. In the process, Antony elbows the drink of the T-shirt wearing, bad date dude.
The man immediately jumps up, cursing as his beer dribbles down his jeans and onto the floor. He balls his hands into fists, rounding on Antony.
I can’t hear the words, but Antony’s smile and calm demeanor make it clear that he’s trying to apologize and get the man a bar towel and a new drink, but the guy isn’t interested. He gets up in Antony’s face, yelling words I can’t understand, while Antony’s smile goes from friendly and apologetic to something else entirely.
Jude quickly wipes the counter, also speaking calmly as he places another beer on the bar in front of the man’s seat. He moves around the bar to clean up the floor as well.
Forgetting the mess and Antony’s confrontation, I keep my eyes on the woman at the bar, watching the two men argue. She glances around, watching to see if anyone will intervene, but everyone here knows Antony, and no one is going to get in his way.
Except maybe her date, who is obviously an idiot as well as an ass.
Antony leans a bit closer to the man, narrows his eyes, and speaks. The man tenses before he pulls back his fist and lets it fly toward Antony’s face. It’s a glancing blow, and Antony barely flinches. He speaks again, and the man takes another swing. This time, Antony ducks away casually, grabs the man’s arm, and then pins him against the bar. Jude jumps back, hands raised.
The woman gets out of her seat and takes a step away, hands over her mouth as if to hold in a scream. No one would hear it over the music anyway.
Antony shoves him, and the guy goes sprawling on the floor, feet flying up into the air as he falls on his ass. Antony laughs, and Jude moves to finish cleaning up the spilled drink on the floor. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him over the music, so I focus back on the woman.
She doesn’t go to her date’s aid, and I watch her more carefully as the man grabs the leg of the barstool to pull himself back to his feet. He rubs his shoulder, looks at Antony, and wisely decides to just sit back down. He puffs out his chest and smiles at the girl like he just won the fight. She looks more horrified than impressed.
