We head back into Dickle's and take seats at the bar. “One more round, Jack,” I tell him.
He gives me a questioning look, but I shoo him off. Brendan looks as out of place here as I would up north, I’m sure. “She isn’t usually like this,” Brendan says. “She’s freaking out over tomorrow and doesn’t handle change well. Plus, I kind of forced her to take this job transfer, so I think she might be taking her anger out on me.”
“Why’d you force her?”
“Her boss told her she could either transfer here or she’d be fired without the option of collecting unemployment. The girl needed to get out of Boston, out of the city, and get a handle on her life, which required getting away from her crazy family and shitty friends. So I quit my job and told her I was coming with her.”
I lean my head back, taking it all in. “That’s a big deal. No wonder she’s pissy.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to regret it all,” he says.
“Well, now, hold up a minute. I wasn’t saying you were wrong or nothin’. If you care about her, you must know what’s in her best interest.”
“She’s like a sister to me, and the city was eating her soul. Technology was overturning her life, and she was turning into one of those mutants who walk around with her phone attached to her forehead—that, and she was trying to have some semblance of a nightlife after her long shifts, which just consistently spelled disaster. Just no.” Brendan laughs, and I’m picturing an absurd image, but I get it. We aren’t quite like that down here, but I see shit online about the northern states becoming lazy and dependent on their electronic devices.
“You’re a good man. Living down here will take some time to adjust to, but it ain’t that bad.”
Jack places our beers down on two new coasters. I take a quick swig and watch Brendan down his drink in a matter of thirty seconds. “Sorry. That was necessary,” he says.
“No apologies needed, bro.” We watch the game for a few minutes, but I see him looking out the front windows every minute or so, probably wondering if Scarlett made it back to the hotel.
“I should probably go hunt the princess down before she breaks her other wrist,” Brendan says.
“I did notice she traded in her heels for sandals at least,” I tell him. “So, at least she has that working for her.”
“Yeah, and I had to fight her on that, believe it or not.”
“She’s a firecracker, huh?”
“Yes, that she is, but she’s a cute little firecracker most of the time. I think she has that whole little dog, big bark syndrome thing going on. You try to take her treat and it’s all over.”
We both get a good laugh at that, and I think he might have described her perfectly. I find it funny that Scarlett is just like my sister, Alexa, in that way—a tiny little thing with the loudest voice in the world.
“She’s got my number if she didn’t throw it out earlier. So if you need anything between now and her surgery time, give me a holler.”
“It was really nice to meet you,” Brendan says. “Thanks for being cool about her attitude.”
“Eh, we all have our moments. I’ve been there.”
“Well, let’s hope you two aren’t like that at the same time,” Brendan says, laughing nervously.
I’d like to tell him I’m not afraid of her, but I’ll let them think she’s got the control she clearly needs. “So true,” I tell him. Brendan takes his wallet out to pay for the drink. “No, no man, I got it. It’s the least I can do after the day you’ve had.”
He snickers and runs his hand down the side of his face. “I’ll get you next time. Thanks again.” Brendan rushes out, and I can imagine he’s going to be running for the next few minutes until he catches up with Miss Bruiser.
