“Whiskey. Neat. And a beer to chase it.”
“Done and done,” he says, reaching for two glasses. “Rough week?” he asks after I shoot the whiskey.
I suck my teeth. “Rough couple of weeks,” I answer, sipping the beer.
“Ah. Work?” he asks. AJ likes to press, but he’s one of the few people that doesn’t bother me. I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t looking to vent a little.
“Nah, work’s great. Pique season on the slopes always pays off,” I say.
“I can imagine,” AJ grins. “It must be nice living on the top of the mountain,” he says. While I do come from old family money, I live a modest lifestyle. I live in a house in Cherry Creek here in the city, the same house I’ve lived in since the kids were in middle school. It’s not over the top or lavish, but not cheap either. I can buy a nice, new house if I wanted to, but when Allie died, I knew selling that house would devastate them. So, I kept it, no matter how hard it was for me to see reminders of her in every nook and cranny.
“It’s not terrible,” I smile, taking another sip of my nitro beer.
“So what’s eatin’ at ya then, mate?” he asks.
“Women,” I say on the tail end of a sigh.
“Ah. Of course,” he says as he works. “Anyone in particular? Or is that just a generalized statement?”
“One in particular,” I say.
“Anyone I know?” he asks.
“Doubt it. She’s not really a pub kind of girl. In fact, other than the first night I met her, I’m not sure if she even drinks at all,” I answer.
“To each their own. She doesn’t sound very fun to me, but I’m a bit biased when it comes to drinking,” he says, and I smile.
“Yeah…”
“So if she’s such a pain in the ass, why not move on? Plenty of fish, right?” he asks.
“That’s the thing. I can’t,” I admit. “We are stuck working together. Even if we weren’t, we keep running into each other. It’s like the universe wants us to be around each other,” I say, taking another sip.
“Maybe it does…” he says, scooting down the bar to place a coaster in front of someone who just snagged a seat on the other side of the guy next to me. “What’ll it be, Charlotte?” AJ asks. I stop, and my stomach drops onto the floor. I lean forward, looking past the guy next to me, only to make eye contact with Charlotte.
“Well, no shit,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine and she sighs. “Really? What are you doing here?”
“I always come here,” I say.
“Well, so do I,” she says, and I chuckle.
“Yeah. Right.”
“I do! Tell him, AJ,” she says defensively, and I look to my trusty bartender, who is quick to betray me.
“She does,” he says, and I shake my head. AJ makes the connection pretty quickly and just laughs. Meanwhile, the guy next to me knows better than to remain in a firing zone and grabs his beer and walks towards the back of the pub.
“This doesn’t line up for me,” I say, scooting over to the stool next to her. I did come here to clear my head, but she’s here so we might as well sit close enough that we don’t have to yell over the Dropkick Murphys. “How are you a regular here?”
“I guess there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know,” she says. Then she shakes her head at AJ. “No beer tonight, AJ. I’d like a chocolate shake.”
“Uh oh,” I say, nursing my beer.
“Uh oh, what?” she asks.
“Well, everyone knows girls only eat ice cream when they’re depressed. Or going through a breakup. Or something else…”
