She frowns. The two men at the bar chuckle.
“Cut her some slack, Sydney,” one guy says as he throws back a shot. Sydney is young enough to be his daughter, with pink hair fastened in high pigtails, her work T-shirt cut above her pierced belly button. She sticks her tongue out at him, and he casts his fat tongue back at her. Then he focuses on me. “You all right?”
This has some effect on Sydney because she stops cleaning to study me. There must be something wrong for a pregnant woman to be in a bar with a toddler at four in the afternoon.
“Actually, I am a touch tired. Would you mind?” I motion to the bar, where one of the old-timers pulls out a stool for me. I can tell Sydney isn’t happy about it. “If I could get a glass of water? Then we’ll be out. I promise he won’t touch anything.” Not that there’s anything for him to touch. It’s a spare bar, not minimalist but empty.
Sydney hands me a glass of water. “If the cops stop by, I’m gonna let you explain why there’s a minor in here.”
The chatty old-timer leans toward me. His breath smells strongly of whiskey. “I would say she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but this is just her personality.”
“I’ll throw you out too,” Sydney warns.
“Speaking of throwing people out, I wanted to ask about a woman who might have been here two nights ago.”
“You a cop?” Sydney asks, revealing what she thinks about cops.
“Do I look like a cop?” I ask genuinely, causing the old-timers to laugh. “My friend Regina.”
I motion to Jasper to give me the phone. He holds it defensively, barking, “Mine. Mine.”
Sydney tosses the cleaning rag between her hands. “I already told the cops. She had a few too many, and I asked her to leave. That’s our policy. If someone’s too drunk to be here, they gotta go.”
I almost tell her it’s not her fault, but I can see that will make things worse. Instead, I ask, “Did she come here often?”
Sydney shakes her head. “Never saw her before that night. She was with a woman. Got the sense it was a first date. Didn’t seem to be going so good, and that’s when she started drinking. I was surprised when she ordered a tequila soda. Was getting real AA vibes. But I just serve. I don’t judge.”
“What happened to the other woman. Do you know her name?”
She frowns at my question. I take greedy gulps of water and stand. I’ve learned everything I’m going to from Sydney.
“Thanks for the water.” I place a five-dollar bill on the bar. She swipes the money off with a nod that makes me think I should have left more.
“It was Monica Colfax,” one of the old-timers calls to me.
“The actress?”
He nods, twisting his newly refilled shot glass.
“She was here?” It’s not surprising to see a celebrity anywhere in LA. But the ever demure and sophisticated Monica Colfax at the Brig?
Sydney tosses a lemon wedge at him. “That woman was at least a decade younger than Monica Colfax.”
“Who knows what kind of seaweed wraps and baby seal serums she uses.”
Sydney shakes her head intently. “It wasn’t Monica Colfax.”
I nod and wave goodbye, more confused than when I arrived. Some woman, not Monica Colfax, met Regina at the Brig, then left when Regina got too drunk. I picture Regina on edge about being at a bar for a first date. She orders club soda. Then the date loses interest, Regina feels slighted, she orders a drink, then another and another. I know as well as anyone how fickle sobriety can be. Yet after seven years, one bad date would make her reach for a drink? Even to me, after everything my mother put me through, that doesn’t sound right.
Outside, the sun is blinding. It’s that time of day where it strikes from every angle. Jasper wrenches and screams, trying to hide from it.I hand him my sunglasses, which quickly become a toy to break, and squint as I push him toward the car. When my mother died, there was no denying that she’d been drinking before she got behind the wheel, nothing suspicious to make me doubt the bare facts of her accident. That’s what makes me trust the sensation I have now, the one that insists Regina couldn’t have relapsed, wandered into the canals, and drowned. It’s like seasonal allergies mixed with the sloshing of too much bubbly water. I had none of those jitters with my mother.
I tense when I unlock our front door and hear movement inside the house. Someone’s in the kitchen. I slip my hand into my purse and find my pepper spray, holding it out in anticipation as my heart pounds. Jasper stands beside me, still bending my sunglasses. I dart in front of him, using my body to shield his. This positions my daughter as the first victim. I put my hand across my stomach, vowing to keep her safe, inching forward as I keep the pepper spray bottle steady in my outstretched hand.
“Whoever’s there, I’ve called the police.”
“T.?” Gabe pokes his head into the hall.
I drop the pepper spray and lean against the wall, panting. “Jesus, Gabe. You nearly gave me a heart attack. What’re you doing home?” Gabe’s never home early.
