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1
Lily
“Another, please,” I tell the bartender.
He’s good at his job—not even an eyebrow lift hinting at judging me for getting a little tipsy. He merely mixes another margarita and adds it to my tab. The bar isn’t too packed, so it’s not like he has much else to do but wait on the people at the bar, drowning their sorrows.
My people.
Looking down the bar, I wonder how many of them are regulars. The old guy at the end of the bar is clearly acquainted with the bartender, but the woman three seats from him seems like a stranger. Until he huffs and pours another cheap Chardonnay and says, “I’m cutting you off, Jessica.”
“Come on, Mike. Cut me a little slack. It’s been a rough day.”
“Oh?” the bartender asks. “Break up another marriage?”
“I’m a lawyer. It’s my job.”
He sneers as he slides the bill to her. “Like I said. You’ve had enough.”
“You always think I’ve had enough. I’m the one who decides—"
“Not in my house.”
“I thought things were going to be different once we got divorced, but how is this any different?”
“I can charge you now.”
She snorts a laugh and gets her credit card out, clearly not winning the argument, and not for the first time. But when she looks at her bill, she points out, “You only charged me for two.”
“I’m not a complete asshole. You get the ex-wife discount.”
She smiles and pays her bill. “Thanks, Mike.”
“An Uber is waiting outside for you.”
“You’re a better bartender than a husband.”
He chuckles. “That’s what I tried to tell you before we got married.”
“Yeah, well, I’m stubborn. Goodnight, Mike.” She leaves.
I’ve never understood people who get along after a break-up, and it seems I’m the only newbie at the bar. That is until a suit walks in.
He takes a seat just two away from me, and even Mike the Friendly Bartender acts like he’s on notice. His shoulders are back, head level, like he’s about to stand at attention. “What can I get for you?”
“What is your cheapest, shittiest beer?”
Mike smirks. “Bad day?”
“Something like that.”
“I suspect you’d prefer a nice scotch.”
“I need to get the taste of nice scotch out of my mouth, actually.”
“Something fruity, then?”
I pipe up, “He makes a mean margarita.”
