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“Closed,” she stated without looking up.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Too many people upstairs. Just wanted a second. And a drink.”
She looked my way. “Since it’s you, go ahead.” She gestured to the bar. “You look like you need it. I’m done in about two minutes though, so that’s about all the time you got.”
“Thanks, Coco.” I went behind the bar and lifted a nearly full bottle of Jack, then grabbed a shot glass.
I poured a shot, threw it back, and walking toward a table by a window, poured another. I pulled a chair down from the table and sat, staring outside.
It was raining. Hard.
“Fuck.” I poured and downed another shot.
Old demons were rearing their head right now. And I’d let my guard way down tonight and drank too fucking much, so I couldn’t seem to beat them back.
I didn’t wanna let my head go where it wanted to go. But it’d happen if I sat here and drank my already drunk self stupid.
A few minutes later, the lights went off except the neon sign over the bar, and Coco approached with her coat on, her purse over her shoulder, keys in her hand.
“I’d tell you to just go back up the way you came when you’re done, but the boss wants perimeter and motion-detection both on with the shit with those outlaws and if you were sober I’d trust you could set it, but you ain’t. Never seen you in this state, Jesse.”
“I’ll head up. Take this with me if that’s all right. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”
She shrugged. “Take that up with the boss.”
“I will. Thanks. Have a good night.”
“I’d say you too, but don’t look like that’s likely by the look on your face and the death grip you’ve got on that bottle.”
“Should probably just go to bed,” I said. “Wait. You got a cigarette?”
She reached into her purse and tossed a new pack of smokes on the table along with a pack of matches. “I quit. Smoke my vape instead. But I keep that pack in my bag in case I need ‘em. Security pack. Takes the anxiety down to know I got some if I really want some.”
“Makes sense. I quit too. But I could really fuckin’ use one.”
“Have at it,” she invited.
I opened the pack and lit one.
She took, then lit one as well, then pulled down another chair and sat with me.
I poured another shot and then offered her the bottle.
“Nope,” she said on an exhale. “Head rush from the smoke alone is enough of a buzz.”
I scoffed. “Yeah. I need another head rush, I think.”
She got up and went through the kitchen door, then came back with a purple and black tiger stripe ashtray. It said #1 Dad on it. Looked like it’d been made in a ceramics class.
“From Deke’s office?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
We sat in silence for a minute.
“Talk to your girlfriend. Fix it before you go to sleep,” Coco advised.
I shot her a dark look while I poured another shot of Jack.
“Not you too with that don’t go to bed angry shit. Think I prefer it when you just cuss at anyone who looks your way.” I threw the shot back.
She laughed. But then she kept talking. “Some people around here get on my nerves. You don’t.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” I raised my glass in cheers and then put it to my lips. Shit. Empty. I filled it and then threw it back, savoring the warmth.
Coco had more to say, “I used to roll my eyes and think whatever when someone said to never go to bed angry. Sometimes you gotta put a pin in it till the morning, though. Things blow up and seem too big, too much. Not everything can get solved in a night. But when the person you’re sharing your life with is suddenly gone, somehow those old blowups seem small, petty. You barely remember what they were about. You just miss the feel, the smell, the voice of the person you used to share your nights with. Sucks waking up without them.”
“Heard you lost your old man not long ago,” I said.
“Yeah. Heart attack. Widow maker. There one minute,” she snapped her fingers, “gone the next. Just before Christmas. Feels like yesterday.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You remind me of Jack when he was your age. Maybe that’s why I tolerate you.”
I chuckled.
“That’s not a pass. I don’t flirt.”
“Never thought it was. But, you open to it again? Not with me. I mean meeting somebody? Some day?”
She lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Can’t say. Still can’t see past the loss. Feels too fresh. Why? If you’re about to speak up for that jackass new brother, don’t bother. I’ve got a good ten years on him and don’t got the patience for a pup, especially not a biker pup that’d need housebreaking.”
“Nico? No, not playing matchmaker. Was just gonna say, lost my father when I was eleven,” I took another shot of JD. “Didn’t think my ma would ever get past it. Took a long time. But she finally did. And with someone I’d never have paired her with. But it’s good to see her happy.”
