I lick my bottom lip, trying to hold in my own emotions. Shirley has to be beside herself with worry. She was like a mother to the girl. “How’s the place holding up?”
She huffs. “We’re managing, but she left us in a bind for sure. We had to hire some young college girl who ain’t worth shit.” She grabs a frosted mug and pulls the tap handle, allowing Busch Light to flow into the glass. “Jenna didn’t take a freakin’ thing with her.” She shakes her head, mumbling under her breath. “You ask me, something ain’t right.”
“Tim, this is your last one. I’m cutting you off after,” Amanda calls down the bar to a local, who’s obviously overstayed his welcome.
She slides the mug down the bar, and he catches it without looking. A sure sign he spends far too much time in this place.
Amanda goes about pouring two fingers into a glass and slides that one down toward Butch Sutter, a white-haired man in his early sixties. He looks up and catches my eye, lifting the glass into the air. “Cheers, sons of bitches.”
My head shakes at the crass remark, recalling the days I’d have been sitting right beside him, lifting my own glass.
Thank god for Shirley’s intervention.
“Some things never change, huh?” Amanda drawls, passing the bag of food across the bar to me.
“And some things do.”
She offers a crooked smile, knowing I’m referencing my own sobriety.
“You’re different, Nick. Always have been.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I say, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “But I appreciate that you think so.”
Her smile falls and she toys with the soda hose. “You just needed to grieve.”
My back straightens and I clear my throat, not wanting to go down that road. It’s too raw, considering the time of year. Amanda doesn’t seem to notice.
“That’ll be five fifty,” she says, grabbing an Old Mill Light from the cooler and passing it to Charlie Dunbar.
Charlie is the mayor’s black sheep son, who spends his father’s money on cheap beer and prostitutes, if the rumors are to be believed. I don’t care to know. Not my jurisdiction.
“That’s your last one too, Charlie.”
He mumbles something unintelligible, signaling he’s well past drunk.
“Sure he should even have that one?” I ask, leaning over the bar and handing Amanda a ten.
She smirks. “Should be, but he actually has a ride home from daddy tonight.” She shrugs. “I’m gonna let Charlie behisproblem.”
I chuckle. “Good luck with that.”
She widens her eyes in an expression that saysI need all the good luck I can getbefore she turns toward the cash register.
“Keep the change,” I say to her back, and she lifts her hand in thanks.
I glance at Charlie once, hoping to convey he’d better not give Amanda any trouble. He’s notorious for causing issues. Mayor Dunbar has gotten good at covering up for him, so he doesn’t face public backlash for not getting Charlie the help that he needs. He looks away quickly, avoiding my glare.
Piece of shit coward.
He has the world at his fingertips, yet he wastes away in thisplace, too lazy to get a job and contribute to society. Bravery and purpose are two things his dad can’t buy him.
I’m halfway to the door when Shirley calls my name from the back hallway that leads to the coolers and kegs.
“Shirley. Didn’t think you were here tonight.”
Shirley is far too old to still be working the bar, but she stops by on a daily basis to check in on things. She’s a micromanager even pushing eighty, and it drives the bartenders nuts. Her thick bifocals signal that she’s half-blind and has no business driving, but until she manages to kill herself or someone else, I guess the local DMV will keep giving her a license.
“Good to see ya, Nicky. What’s new at the station?”
