It takes a little while to get to the place because it’s not in town, but the second I see theCurly’s Barsign I put the car in park and hop out. There are people lingering on the sidewalk, some puking and others making out. I ignore them as I make my way inside. True to form, Bobby is lying passed out in the middle of the room. I bend down beside him and lean closer.
“Bobby.”
He grunts.
Could be worse. At least he’s semi-responsive this time. “Bobby, we gotta go.”
His eyelids start to open, slow and heavy, and he just stares up at me for a minute, eyes squinting. “Lou? Is that you?”
I smile softly, an unexpected wave of guilt flooding through me at seeing him like this. He was doing so well. Or at least, I thought he was. I should have been paying better attention. I should have been a better friend. “Yes, it’s me, Bobby. Listen. I’m going to need your help, okay?”
Pause. Blink. “Okay.”
“I’m going to slip my arm under your neck, but I’ll need your help pushing off the ground, okay? I can’t hold all of you on my own.”
Another pause. A glance around. “Okay.”
I do as I said I would, reaching down and curling one arm around his neck and shoulders, the other around his torso. “Now, Bobby. Push up now.”
He shifts beneath me, groans, then hooks one of his arms around me and grabs on, using my body as partial leverage to pull himself up. It’s not easy, but I’ve done it countless times before, so I know just how to hold my stance, just how to steady him once he’s on his feet, and just how to walk while he’s leaning half his weight on me.
“Lou,” he whispers, once he stops swaying. He angles his head at me, and guilt is written all over his tired face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” It’s all a slur, each word running into the next.
“Shh, shh. You’re okay, Bobby. You’re okay.” I nod toward the entrance. “See those doors? We’re going to start walking toward them now. Can you take the first step?”
He knows what I’m really asking when I say that last part, because it’s the same exact words he’s heard hundreds of times before. He looks at me long and hard, probably remembering the same thing. Remembering our sad, useless tradition. And just like those times before, he slurs, “And the next. And the next.”
A tear forms in the corner of my eye. How’d we get here again, Bobby? “That’s right.”
After a moment, he moves, his right foot slowly stepping forward, and I begin to move with him. The bartender’s been watching us as he puts chairs up on tables, and I offer him a meaningful glance. I mouth a clearthank you, and he gives me a sad smile. How many times has he seen this before? Made calls like this? Sometimes I think being a bartender is the surest way to abstain from alcohol.
We’re hit by a rush of wind, the cold breeze like a slap to my face, and the door slams behind us.
“Hey, look who it is! Little Miss Savior.”
I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t recognize the voice calling out to me. Of course he would be here. Who else would go out of his way to bring a good man like Bobby down when he’s finally beginning to turn things around?
I don’t look at him as I inch a barely conscious Bobby toward Jamie’s car in front of us. I clumsily set him into the passenger seat and get him buckled up, watching as he closes his eyes. Then I close the door, take a deep breath, and turn to face Shithead Ryan.
There’s a girl attached to his hip, and a small group of people cluttered around him, filling the sidewalk with the sounds of their lip-smacking and exaggerated laughter. I ignore them, centering my focus on Ryan.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, gritting the words out.
“What, a guy can’t come out to Bumfuck, Nowhere to see his pal?” He kicks off the wall he’s leaning on, and the girl squeals as she stumbles off him. He inches closer. He’s not a tall guy, more short and stocky, but he likes to pretend he’s big and bad. “How come you get to have visitors but Bobby can’t?” I don’t need to ask how he knows Jamie’s in town because I’m sure Bobby told him. “Still the same old controlling Lou, I see. Trying to keep Bobby down, keep him from having a good time.”
“Oh, is that what tonight was?” I gesture toward the vehicle behind me, where Bobby’s curled up, two seconds away from passing out. “A good time?”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “If you were here a little earlier you’d have seen thatyes, it was a hell of a good time. The guy finally let loose, remembered what it’s like to just let go. But you never seem to wanna stick around for the fun stuff, do you?”
“Kind of like how you never seem to wanna stick around for the aftermath?” It’s not until then that I catch a glimpse of a blonde buzz cut to my right. I shift my gaze, squinting. “Dylan?”
He separates his face from the petite girl wrapped in his arms, and I watch as recognition forms in his bloodshot eyes. His eyes widen, the alarm setting in immediately, but it quickly fades as he seems to realize it’s useless. I’ve already seen more than I need to. “Well if it isn’t Lou Adaire.”
I let out an exasperated breath, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Something darkens in Dylan’s eyes, his face turning menacing in a quiet, subtle way that sends a shiver crawling down my spine. “You keep your mouth shut.”
“Like hell I will.”
