“She’s definitely a knockout,” I agree with a nod. “Are you married?”
“For thirty-three years this August,” he confirms with a wink. “I knew a good thing when I found it and I snatched her up before anyone else could.”
“Kids?” I swallow the rest of my drink and nudge it toward him for another.
“Nah.” His eyes dim as he shrugs and pours my drink. “Tried. Didn’t work out for us.”
“Sorry to hear that.” I toss half of the new drink back, my chest heavy with sympathy. Fuck, I need to call Christina. When does she find out if the last round of IVF worked?
“I have her.” He grins. “That’s all that matters.”
I’m fucking jealous of a guy double my age and his pretty wife. Because he has what I want. He has the woman of his dreams for the rest of his life.
I toss back the rest of my drink. “Another.”
“You better slow down, son. It’s barely four in the afternoon.”
Is it that late already? I’ve been here, brooding, longer than I thought.
“Just keep them coming.”
“Is this going to be a fuck my life kind of drunk, or a I just want to forget kind of drunk?”
I smirk. “Honestly, I think it’s both.” I slide off the stool. “You pour, I’ll be back.”
I stumble—Jesus, I can’t be drunk yet—to the men’s room and piss. After zipping my fly, I push my hand in my pocket, and come out with the small vial of coke that Addie had in her purse.
Fuck me.
Alcohol always was my gateway to the coke, and staring at it now, I want it more than I want my next breath.
Who would care if I got high one more time? Who would it hurt? I mean, I’ve already completely obliterated the no-alcohol rule, so I’ll do this one last time and call it quits.
I look at myself in the mirror, lean on the counter, and swear a blue streak as I turn the water on, open the coke and wash it down the drain, then toss the vial in the trash.
I’m not a junkie, and I’ll be fucking damned if I’ll snort that shit up my nose now just because I’m pouting over Addie.
But I’m going to drink every bottle of Jack Daniel’s in this place.
THE BAR HAS filled up this evening. There are kids playing pool and sinking dollars into a jukebox, choosing some good music, but mostly shitty music.
Or maybe I’m just not in the mood for happy songs.
They played a Hard Knox song, and that only made me want to deck someone.
I forgot that alcohol makes me aggressive, and that’s only one of the reasons I gave it up long ago.
“Do you want to close your tab, Jake?” Bill asks as he hands me a drink. I’ve been steadily getting more and more drunk all day. And it feels fucking fantastic.
“No. I’ll need another.”
“I think I’m cutting you off, pal,” he replies. “It’s almost midnight, and you’ve been drinking all day.”
“Are you the fucking alcohol police?” I ask with a frown.
“Yeah, actually, I am.” He smirks. “Who can I call for you?”
“Why would you call anyone for me?” God, my words are all fucking slurred.
“Because you’re not driving home. I can call a friend or a cab, which is it?”
“Call Addie.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and then bark out a laugh. “Wait. You can’t call her.” I slide my phone across the bar at him. “She hates me. Call Christina.”
“Are you sure?” he asks with a grin. “Or is there another woman’s name you want to toss out?”
“Christina,” I repeat and lay my head down on my arm, suddenly very tired. When did I get so fucking tired?
“This is Bill at the Yellow Rose bar in Hillsboro.”
I’m at the Yellow Rose? Huh.
“I have Jake here, and he’s going to need a ride home. He told me to call you.”
I don’t need a ride home. I have a fucking car. As soon as I sleep off this bender in the backseat, I can drive myself home.
God, it feels like I’m spinning. The kids playing pool are laughing. The music is loud.
“You okay, Jake?”
“Yeah, Bill, I’m good,” I answer him without opening my eyes. “I can just sleep here.”
“No, you can’t.” He laughs and I suddenly smell coffee. “Have some of this.”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
I haven’t had the spins since . . . hell, since before the band broke up. Since before Christina’s accident. I frown and shake my head, trying to clear it. Why in the hell am I thinking about that? It was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with now.
I feel a hand on my back.
“I told you, sweetheart, unless your name is Addison, I’m not going to fuck you. I’m sure one of the guys playing pool will take you out back and rock your world, just ask them.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
Christina.
“Hey.” I open my eyes and try to focus on the three Christinas standing beside me. “How did you get here?”
“I drove here, Einstein. Has he paid his tab?”
“I have it here,” Bill says, handing Christina my debit card and passing me a pen to sign the receipt. I give him a five-hundred-dollar tip. He’s earned it. “Here’s his phone.”
“Thanks.”