Page 39 of The Cost of Love

We stop at a pub that looks like it should be condemned. Instead of a bouncer outside of it, there is a guy sitting on the ground smoking next to a pile of throw-up.

If I thought that was the worst of it, the smell of stale beer and peanuts greets us when we walk in. Packed from wall to wall are people dressed similarly to Chanice or in some sort of server get-up. The bartenders are just slinging shots at people, some of whom look too young to be here. They don’t care if the right order is getting to the right person.

I look out of place and a little horrified based on the laugh Chanice lets out when she turns to face me. Jessie waves at some guy in the corner and says she will be back.

Pulling me through the crowd, Chanice deposits me at a standing table near the speaker. She turns to go, and I hand her some notes. She sighs, but accepts it.

While she is gone, a few people bump and push into me, none of them apologetic. It makes me feel so unimportant that I almost dance. It’s been years since I’ve been at a place like this. Maybe since uni. And I forgot how forgettable I am to most people. I love it.

When she comes back, she has four shots and some dark-looking drinks. She is carrying it all on a tray that she promptly hands to a stranger to take once she deposits our alcohol.

Leaning in, she shouts the words into my ear, “What do you think?” The question is a challenge based on the quirk of her brow.

“It’s great,” I yell back.

She looks skeptical, but hands me a shot and promptly taps hers against mine. We both throw it back and wince. I fight the urge to cough.

“That’s hairspray,” I say, rubbing my chest.

“That’s what you get for a three-quid shot.”

Laughing, she chases it with her drink. Tasting mine, I’m at this point not surprised that it’s some flat pop. It’s better after the second shot.

“So is this like your normal place you hang out?” I ask.

We both have our elbows on the table and are leaning towards each other. I can smell the alcohol on her breath, and despite the awful taste, it makes me want to kiss her.

“I don’t really go out, but this is where a lot of my friends go. It’s cheap and usually open after we all finish.”

“It’s interesting.” I scrunch my nose like that will dislodge the smell.

“So what you’re saying is you want to order the cheesy chips?”

I feel my arms and shoes sticking to the surfaces. I’m sure the kitchen isn’t much better. But I refuse to back down.

“Let’s do it,” I say.

She goes and returns so quickly that it raises even more questions. The plate she places in front of me looks better than I thought it was going to. Classic chips with shredded cheese, some chives, and a glob of soured cream.

“It’s good, I promise.” She pulls a chip away, and a string of cheese comes with it. Putting the whole thing in her mouth, she pulls the trail until it snaps from the pile. Nodding, she gestures for me to try it.

Following her lead, I grab a pretty stacked chip with a lot of topping. Popping it in my mouth, the crunch is nice.

I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, the liquor, or the fact that it’s really that damn good, but I love this food. We gorge in silence until the plate is almost empty, and then it’s my turn to venture for more drinks.

I laugh out loud that their version of top-shelf alcohol is what would pass as basic for most places, but it adds to the charm. At these prices, we can both get drunk for cheap. Which we do.

Six shots, four drinks, and two cheesy chip plates in, we are grinding to a love ballad. Her hips roll her ass against my groin, and I have no shame at being hard. Or at the fact that I’m involuntarily swaying as I rock to stay straight.

Her hands are holding on to mine, which are looped around her waist. She can’t stop giggling, and I can’t stop grinning like I won the lottery. In a way, I have. This is a night that is worth money.

I don’t even realize how long we have been here until it starts to empty and the staff comes around to wrangle the rest of us.

“Where is Jessie?” I ask.

“She went home with that guy.” Chanice shrugs like it’s a normal occurrence, which makes me understand their friendship even more.

We all pour into the street that is filling with every other clubgoer who stuck around until the end of the night. People start to shuffle home, and I hold her against me while we wait for my car.