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“What’s this for?” I asked.
“You seem alright.” Mary said, through chomping on her gum. “So what’s your story about?” She leaned her elbows on the bar and stared at me.
“Well…” I swirled the whiskey in the glass. “I’m writing a story about Christmas in a small town. And, how it compares to a Christmas movie.”
The band returned from their warmup and started tinkering with their guitars. I knew I would be drowned out by their music in a matter of seconds.
Mary tilted her head as though processing what I’d said. “Life in this town ain’t nothing like those movies…” she paused. “But you know that already don’t you.”
I was busted.
“I’m just trying to put forward a more truthful version.”
“Mary,” the other bartender shouted and raised his arms in the universal, what the fuck are you doing, gesture. He had been taking all the orders while Mary chatted with me. Instead of cutting the conversation short, Mary ignored him.
It made me like her even more. The band started to play something I recognized but couldn’t quite place – it was definitely by the Rolling Stones though. Mary leaned on her elbow and curled her finger for me to lean towards her. “Henri. That doesn’t make sense. The movie is fake, this is real life. People don’t want real life at Christmas time. They want to forget about theirs and pretend that everything is perfect for a minute or two.”
She was right. And my cheeks burned with the realization that my assignment was kind of bullshit. When I first saw her, I didn’t think that she’d be the one to make me question the project. Now, there was no way I was going to ask Mary for an interview for my snarky Platypus article. The singer had started belting out the lyrics to Satisfaction, and if I hadn’t been able to see that he was a twenty-year-old with a red beard, I would’ve sworn Mick Jagger himself was at the Last Chance Saloon. I held the glass of whiskey up in a gesture of thanks. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I shouted.
Mary nodded and gave me a little salute gesture. I was going to have to get my dirt from somewhere else. The lady behind the bar was far too sage of a woman for my fluff piece article. I had to weave through the crowded dance floor to find Amelia. She was on the edge of the dance floor, eyes focused on Bradley Stern, who was twirling an older woman around on the dance floor.
“Hi.”
I jumped as Harrison shouted in my ear.
“Where did you come from?” I took a sip of the whiskey - it was smooth and warmed my entire body. The crowded bar had to be a million degrees and I was carrying Jack’s coat while still wearing my leather jacket.
“I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Harrison’s voice had a slur to it. His eyes went to the jacket in my arms. “Drop that and let’s dance.”
“You want to dance…to this?” I pointed to the band. “Classic rock?”
“I love classic rock.” He grinned. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He sang along with the lyrics proving that he wasn’t faking it.
“How do you even know this song?” Harrison might have been drinking age, but he looked a lot younger.
“It reminds me of my grandma. She used to sing this while she was vacuuming.”
“Wow.” I almost choked on my whiskey. Bradley and the woman in leopard print were looking quite cozy, he had his arms around her and she giggled as he whispered something into her ear. She looked to be in her late forties or maybe even early fifties. “Who is that?” I pointed to the couple.
Harrison turned to see what I was pointing at and then focused his attention back on me. “That’s some local chick Bradley is banging. She’s married, but her husband is sleeping with her friend over there. And that woman’s husband is sleeping with some woman from Windswan. It’s really hard to keep track, actually.” He added. “But, it’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone.”
“She’s a little bit older than him…” I observed out loud. Internally, I noted that if I looked up cougar in the dictionary, the woman’s picture would’ve been beside it.
Harrison winked. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
And I realized that he was talking about me. I was twenty-eight years old.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Harrison was more intoxicated than I’d first realized. “Put down your coat.” He moved to take the coat from my arms.
“It’s not my coat.” I protectively squeezed Jack’s coat against my body. “It’s my boyfriend’s.” I said it a little louder than necessary. Harrison looked like he could be a persistent guy, like that one lone mosquito buzzing around a bedroom in the middle of the night.
“Oh.” Harrison took a step backwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” I finished my drink and slipped into Jack’s coat. I’d had enough of the scene at the Last Chance. “I’m going to go now, but I think that Amelia is single.” I didn’t feel guilty pointing Amelia out to Harrison, it was what she wanted after all.
Without waiting for Harrison to protest, I set a path to the restroom across the rowdy dance floor. Just as I reached the bathrooms, a balding man with a beer belly stormed into the bar. His face was as red as the spotlight on the band. He pushed aside anyone in his way, leaving a wake of disgruntled people behind his as he lunged to the dance floor, pulling the leopard print lady off Bradley. She tried to hold the man’s arms, but his nostrils flared like a bull, his eyes focused intently on Bradley. The man shook her off and knocked Bradley off his feet with one sweeping punch to his jaw.
The punch seemed to set off something in the bar, and all of a sudden, fists were being thrown all around me. I heard the sound of a bottle smashing and knew that I had to get out of the Last Chance. It was exactly how I’d imagined a small-town brawl, but scarier.
