Today, Miss August is sporting business apparel, form-fitting navy slacks, a pretty white blouse, and a slim feminine blazer. Her previous night’s behavior doesn’t fit the look she’s sporting tonight, which leaves me curious about her intentions. Maybe it’s Luke she’s after. I wouldn’t be surprised. The guy gained a few too many pounds after his wedding, and his ring no longer fits. Therefore, to any single girl Luke encounters, he looks free to mingle.
August is with a friend tonight. I could be wrong, but they look related. It’s the nose. Both of their noses are turned up just a bit at the end, and their lips have a Cupid’s bow arrow darting down the center. The only real difference is their hair color. The other girl has a burnt sienna hue, bright enough to light up a dark room.
“Could I have a Smirnoff?” August’s friend requests.
Luke has perfected the ability to control his inner thoughts from appearing within his facial expressions. I know what’s going through his head, though.
Who comes into a whiskey bar and orders Smirnoff?
August, places her hand down gently on the bar top and glances out the corner of her eye, appearing embarrassed by her friend’s order.
“Could I try a blended whiskey, your suggestion, please?” August asks.
I think by this point, Luke has learned not to argue with August or question anything she requests. “Sure thing,” he answers, tapping the bar with his hands before pivoting toward the bottles on the back shelf.
“Whiskey?” her friend squeaks. “You don’t drink whiskey.”
“I do now,” August replies cordially.
“Why?” her friend drawls.
“Because I do,” August counters.
“This is a lovesick thing, isn’t it?”
August twists her neck, pinning her eyes to her friend. “Why would you say that?”
I can’t see the expression on her friend’s face, but I wonder if she will shy away from her statement or offer a rebuttal. “It’s been just over a week, August. You aren’t okay. It’s evident.”
“I’m fine, May. Lord almighty. Mom sent you to check on me, didn’t she?”
“No, I was worried about my sister. Forgive me.”
Makes sense, them being sisters.
“What did you need advice on, May?” August must be the older sister by more than a few years. She speaks to May with a tone of authority—like she’s previously taken care of her.
May turns in her seat, refacing the bar where her Smirnoff sits on a cardboard coaster with water droplets bubbling around the glass neck. She takes a cocktail napkin and wraps it around the bottle before taking a small sip. Her cheeks pucker as if the taste is unexpected.
After placing her bottle back down, leaving the condensation-soaked napkin wrapped around the bottle, she holds her hand out to August. “Do you like this color nail polish? It’s called Mahogany Gold. I got an extra bottle for you if you want to try it?”
“You asked me to go out so you could show me your new nail polish?”
“I miss you, Auggie, come on, give me a break. You’re my sister, and you’ve been avoiding my calls. I want to help you through this.”
Auggie.Maybe she’s going through a break-up. It sounds like a sisterly thing to do—meeting up with her for a drink. It would explain a lot, I suppose.
“I don’t need help.”
“Uh, with all due respect, Miss August. I don’t know what it is you’re going through, but if this nice young lady is offering you a lending ear, maybe it isn’t the worst—”
Luke, why ...
“Excuse me?” August snaps. “Who the hell are you again? Isn’t your job to serve drinks here? I don’t recall hiring you to be a mediator or a therapist.”
“I’m so sorry,” Luke tries to revive himself. “I was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need help,” she says, slowly, clearly, loudly. However, every one of those words demanded help.
