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Priya studies each bar like she’s on a mission. But if she stays for a beat too long, a drunk fan wanders up to her, and she graciously stops to take a selfie.
“Priya! Just pick one!” Vince begs.
“Alright, what about … the Tankard?” Priya points straight ahead to a neon sign shaped like a bull, which blinks as the neon flashes. She runs up to the window. “They’ve got dollar beer! And peanuts! Let’s do it!”
Inside is dark and loud; I can barely see in front of me. My foot crunches on dozens of discarded peanut shells. Soon, my eyes adjust to the dark, and I see wizened old men wearing cowboy hats playing darts in the corner.
It’s not a tourist bar. I can tell by how the patrons curve their bodies toward the bar like it’s a second home; this is the sort of bar where no one cares who you are or what you do. It’s perfect.
The beefy bouncer checks our IDs and does a double take when he sees Vince’s.
“Could I get a photo, man? I started playing bass because of you.”
Vince pauses. While he’s plenty used to being asked for photos, I overheard him telling Henry that he wanted to have a normal night.
“I’ll take it,” I suggest.
Vince leans in next to the bouncer and smiles, a huge grin that overtakes his whole face. I take a couple of photos, one with flash, and hand the phone back to the bouncer.
“I’m not supposed to have my phone on me during my shift, but this is fuckin’ worth it!” He exclaims.
“My pleasure,” Vince says. “Have a good night, man.”
We wander into the dark pit of the bar, and Vince grabs my hand as we walk up to the bar.
“I’ll have a club soda with lime, and for the lady,” he pauses and looks at me. I feel like an idiot. How could I forget Vince doesn’t drink? That fuckingGQinterview was about how he’s been sober for twenty years!
I pause. “Is this okay?” I whisper.
He gives my hand another squeeze. “Yeah, love. You can drink around me if you want. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve been sober since before you could spell your name,” he jokes.
“Okay. I’ll have a PBR,” I say. I don’t usually drink, but it’s hot, and I haven’t been out properly in ages.
“There’s a new mocktail menu, too. I can make you a non-alcoholic Mule if you want,” the bartender suggests to Vince.
“That sounds great. With extra lime if you have it.”
He hands over his card, and the bartender hands us our drink. Vince lights up when he sees the copper mug, “I get the real mug and everything! Priya, look! It’s a … what did you call it?” He glances back at the bartender.
“A mocktail.”
“Priya, look! It’s a mocktail!”
Priya walks over to us and rolls her eyes; she’s sipping on what looks like a Mai Thai, “I told you so!” Priya quips.
“You did not!”
Priya rolls her eyes.
He sighs and loops his arm around my waist, pulling me close, “Do you want to find a table?” He asks.
“Sure.” I realize for the first time all night that this is technically a date.
My palms start to sweat. I wipe them down my jeans, then chastise myself for being ridiculous. Last night, Vince fucked me so hard I ripped the curtain down, and now I’m nervous?
We circle the bar, and people watch. I see a pool table in the corner, and I elbow Vince, “Do you ever play?”
“Hell, yes! Let’s do it. I’m about to kick your ass,” Vince taunts.
