“No, I’m not driving anywhere. Thank you for your concern, though.”
Luke gives me a side eye as if he’s still trying to prove his point that the girl is nuts. I raise a brow in response.
“Not that one,” August says.
“Okay, which one then?” Luke replies.
“Anything but that one.”
Luke tosses his head back with annoyance and grabs another bottle, quickly filling the glass a third of the way. He places it down in front of August and turns around to ring the drink into the register.
“Thank you,” August says.
“My pleasure.”
I watch her take the drink as if it’s a form of entertainment. She downs the glass in less than thirty seconds, squinting, clenching her jaw muscles, and grabbing her throat as the liquid goes down. What is this woman doing?
“Another,” she calls out.
“Uh, you said your name is August, right?” I call down to her.
She shrugs. “Good memory. How’s your dry burger?”
“It’s dry,” I relent.
“I figured,” she says.
“Did you enjoy the malt or the rye more?”I ask her.
“The what?” she questions, a puzzled look swimming through her doe-like eyes.
“Which one of the whiskeys do you prefer?” I take a fry from my plate to munch on while waiting for her response.
“Oh,” she says, understanding my question. “I don't enjoy either of them.”
I press my lips into a firm line, feeling my eyebrows knit together as I try to make sense of what she’s trying to accomplish.
“Could I have another of this one,” August asks Luke as he walks by.
He leans over the bar, keeping his voice quiet as he offers her a glass of water instead of whiskey. However, I assume he’s laying on the charm, so she doesn’t punch him in the face.
“Water?” she asks through laughter, then curls a short strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re insulting me.”
“Well, I apologize,” Luke replies.
“Another whiskey, please.”
“What’s that letter for?” Luke presses. He’s just asking for trouble now.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“Technically, since you’re under my roof, I am responsible for the condition you’re in when you walk on out of here. So just tell me that ain’t some kind of suicide note?”
August drops her pen onto the paper, and her hands fall to her lap. Luke can’t see that she’s digging her fingernails into her knees. “Why would I do something stupid like that?”
Luke holds his hand up to his chest. “You’re right. I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.”
“Thanks for nothing,” she says, taking her notebook and pen, tossing them into her bag and hops off the stool.
