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A knot in my throat tightened. The sight of her puffy, sad eyes stirred pent-up feelings, but I managed a strained smile instead.
I was certainly out of my comfort zone because, were I to unleash what I really felt, especially with Savanah reaching out to me like that, I would cry for days. But that was not me. My mother had bludgeoned toughness into me. She believed tears and emotion weakened us. But since being with Drake, I’d become so raw and exposed, it felt like I might burst.
“What would you like?”
She opened her purse and removed a credit card. “Get me a double vodka tonic.”
I didn’t take the card. “It’s okay, I can afford it.”
She shrugged. “Make sure you get something, too. I don’t want to drink alone.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
I stood at the bar and was careful not to lean too close or place my elbows on the sticky counter while waiting for the barman to lumber over and take my order.
The patrons perched against the bar turned and stared at me like I was an alien. I guess I was. They all looked like they were growing out of their chairs, like they’d been in that same place all their adult lives.
I turned to the chubby, bulbous-nosed man closest to me. “You got a problem?” I hated people staring.
He turned away and continued drinking—all alone, like the rest of the sad creatures drowning in their pints of beer. I could only guess they hadn’t had a chance in life. Or maybe they were too weak to go looking for it.
My mother always said that losers made their own beds. Had they tried harder, they would get jobs and do well.
I wasn’t sure about that, because there had been days when I couldn’t face myself, let alone people.
Thanks to Drake and my grandmother, that was no longer me.
I returned with our drinks, and like everyone there, we drank in silence while staring out the streaky window. If one could smell poverty and loneliness, that stale beer mixed with unwashed bodies would be it.
A couple of men, maybe in their late twenties, wearing Liverpool T-shirts, burst through the door and, zeroing in on us, strutted over.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
Savanah was lost in her own world as she drained her glass.
“Hey, girls. Need some company?” one of them asked.
“Nope.” I kept it short and sweet.
“You both look so sad.” He pulled a tragic clown face. “Have you been dumped? Or is it the wrong time of the month?”
I rolled my eyes and remained silent, despite my inner bitch stirring.
“They must be lezzies.” He turned to his mate.
“Nuh. They’re too pretty to go for carpet munching.” The other guy laughed.
I smashed the small prosecco bottle I’d just poured into my glass and held it to his face. “If you don’t fuck off, I’ll cut that smile from your ugly face.”
Bewildered and wide-eyed, Savanah turned sharply to look at me.
I just eyeballed the dickheads, and they walked off.
Once the adrenaline had drained away, I got up and went to the bar. “Give me a dustpan and a cloth.”
The barman handed it to me without batting an eyelid.
I cleaned up my mess, then ordered another drink for Savanah.
