The door swung open, and a blast of cold night air rushed in. A guy stumbled in, lurching toward the bar with the sort of unsteady swagger that was immediately recognizable. He was mid-thirties maybe, dressed in a wrinkled button-down that had seen better days.
“Heyyy,” the guy slurred, voice loud and off-key. “Where’s my drink?”
Josh and I exchanged a quick glance.
“Just what we needed,” Josh whispered to me with a roll of his eyes.
I forced a polite smile and stepped forward. “Evening, man. What can I get you?”
He dropped himself down at the bar, teetering unsteadily, drooping eyes bloodshot. “Whiskey,” he said, dragging the word out. “Big one.”
“Sure thing.” I kept my tone even. “How about a glass of water first?”
The guy’s expression soured. “Did I ask for water? No. Whiskey.” He pounded his fist on the bar, the sound echoing. A few of the regulars glanced over but quickly turned back to their drinks, not wanting to get involved.
Josh edged closer to me. “Look, buddy,” he said with a warning edge, “we’re happy to serve you after you get some water and food in you. If you pound on my bar again, we’re gonna have a problem.”
In a drunk state, the guy broke into a lopsided grin. “Tough guy, huh?” He slapped the bar again. “You don’t look like a bouncer.”
“I don’t need to be a bouncer to kick you out of my bar.”
Just then, my ass vibrated with a text message.
As the guy swayed in place, trying to decide how difficult he wanted to be tonight, I pulled my phone from my back pocket. A quick glance, born more out of habit than hope, but still, I was half-hoping for Kira’s name. I was like a teenage girl waiting for a good night text from her crush, and I hated how much I cared.
But the name on the screen wasn’t hers.
Mom: Liam asked about you. You should call him.
My stomach twisted. I hadn’t talked to my little brother in…God, how long had it been? A year? Maybe more. There wasn’t one clear reason for the silence. We hadn’t fought, hadn’t had some big blow-up, but somewhere along the way, we stopped calling.
When I left town, Liam took it the hardest. I think he saw it as me bailing on him and the family. He didn’t yell or try to talk me out of it. That was what made it worse. He just shut down. Let the distance stretch until it snapped into silence. And I’d let it happen, too.
Truthfully, Liam was always better at helping out at the diner. Where I fumbled through orders like I was translating a foreign language, he moved with the ease of someone who’d been born holding a coffeepot. He could balance three plates on one arm without breaking a sweat, while I managed to spill soup into a customer’s purse…twice.
Sometimes I wondered if he wasn’t busy in college, Mom would have called him for help instead. I was plan B.
The drunk at the bar grunted. “So what’s it gonna be, bartender?”
My patience was already fraying. I narrowed my eyes. “Take the water or get out.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to.
He threw his hands up like I was being unreasonable. “Fine, fine, a glass of water. With lemon.”
I grabbed an empty glass and filled it with water. Lemon, my ass.
As I slammed it down in front of him, Josh pointed out, “Landon, your phone’s ringing.”
Mom was persistent tonight. I had the sinking feeling shewasn’t going to let up until she got a response from me. I knew it pained her that her two sons weren’t close.
“Ignore it,” I said.
“Who’s Mary Singh?”
Wait,what? Why was the CCC administrator calling me so late on a Saturday?
My pulse skipped a beat. Fear flashed through me, cold and sudden. What if she was calling to tell me art class was officially cancelled and I didn’t need to show up tomorrow? What if she had already called Kira and she was locked in her bedroom, grieve-eating a pint of ice cream?
I picked up the phone.
