Page 111 of Twisted Beauty

Matt

“You sure about this?” the bartender asked as she set a shot glass of raicilla in front of Matt. “You remember what happened last time, right?”

Matt forced a smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

El Condado was the only bar he knew of in PV that served raicilla by the glass. Among other things. From his stool at the bar, Matt faced a wall of shelves stocked floor to ceiling with some of the country’s hardest-to-find liquors.

Whenever he had a shit day, he came here. With its peeling rust-colored walls, the splintering wood of the counters and tables, and the uneven Saltillo tiles on the floor, the entire bar was so dark and uninviting that tourists rarely ventured in. So there were no crazy-ass Americans drinking themselves stupid and acting like they owned the place. It was damn near perfect.

Still, Matt couldn’t blame the bartender for her concern. Camila had been working here for years, and was a firsthand witness to the initial days and weeks after he’d moved to Mexico, when he’d frequented this place just a little too often. Back when he came here daily to drown out his memories of Sadie, one fucking shot of tequila at a time. Ironic that he was back in the same situation he swore he’d never be in again. Hung up on some American woman he couldn’t trust. And sitting on the same crooked barstool.

Matt eyed his drink. He’d only tried raicilla once before. Until today, he was convinced that was one time too many, considering he’d woken up on Zach’s couch two days later with no idea how he got there. Funny how that didn’t sound like a half-bad plan right about now.

He reached for his glass, but a hand shot out from behind him and pulled it away before he even touched it. “What the—”

“What the hell is this?” Zach’s voice boomed in his ear, shocking the shit out of him.

He wasn’t expecting to see Zach or anyone else here this early in the day. And he was still hung over from his last two nights of drinking, so anything loud was beyond unacceptable. “None of your damned business,” Matt said at the same time Camila said, “La Venenosa raicilla.”

“He’s not drinking this, Camila. Bring him a glass of water.” Zach handed the shot glass to her over the counter, out of Matt’s reach.

Jesus Christ. He didn’t need this today. “What are you, my fucking mother? I haven’t had a single drop yet.” He leaned forward onto his elbows, to put as much separation between himself and his so-called friend as possible. “Ignore him, Camila. You can give that back now.”

“He’s doing you a favor, you wanker.” Nate pulled up the barstool to his right and sat down next to him.

Well, shit. He couldn’t think of a single person he wanted to see less than Nate right now. Okay, maybe one. But Zach’s little princess wouldn’t be caught dead in this place. It was beneath her. The dirty orange decor probably didn’t match with her outfit or her makeup or something asinine like that.

Camila dropped off a glass of ice water, and Zach settled into a barstool to Matt’s left. This felt like some kind of an intervention. The last thing he needed, considering he hadn’t managed to get a single drop of alcohol into his bloodstream yet today. “How did you two stalkers find me? Or is this just one lucky-ass coincidence?”

Zach chuckled. “Seriously, dude? If you have to ask, your brain is already pickled. Where the hell else would you be?”

Matt blew out a huff of air. He should have stayed home, where there was practically an unlimited supply of alcohol. And a lock on the front door.

Only he hadn’t been home since the day he walked away from Liv. Instead he’d kept himself so busy he didn’t have time to think. In just over forty-eight hours, he’d taught three classes, helped move furniture back into the newly painted classrooms, drank himself to sleep on the couch at the Spanish Learning Center with some spectacularly tasteless beer, and surfed hungover in Sayulita with several of his students. The only thing he hadn’t done was show his face at Tito’s.

He hoped Tito was doing okay. This was the longest Matt had been out of touch since he moved to Mexico over a year ago. There was no easy way to break the news to him that Liv had left. Tito was so taken with her, he’d be heartbroken.

But this morning, Matt had geared himself up to face him. He’d walked along the Malecon on his way to El Brujo, thinking the ocean air would clear his head. That was his first mistake of the day. About halfway there, he passed a redhead with her back to him shooting photos out on the beach. She had the same deep auburn locks as Liv, falling in thick waves down her back. His heart stopped, and he stood there like some lovestruck jackass until she turned around. Of course it wasn’t Liv. Not her porcelain skin, or those green eyes, or the smile that lit up her face.

Because Liv was gone. Along with her lies.

He still had no idea what she stood to gain from all of that subterfuge, except maybe a good fuck. But she could’ve had that anyway.

Well, good riddance.

Except he missed her. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, especially to the two losers sitting next to him. But his gut had basically been in knots since he heard from Zach that she’d left Mexico early. The redhead at the beach just made things that much worse.

Hence this little side trip to El Condado. Mistake number two. Had he chosen any other place in town, he’d be sitting alone at a bar right now getting drunk.

“Congratulations, you found me. You can back off now,” Matt said. But unless he wanted to start a brawl, he was pretty damned sure he wasn’t getting his drink back.

“No can do, man. I promised Tito I’d hunt you down and bring you back.” Zach clapped him on the shoulder. “Alive.”

“Hilarious.” Matt took a gulp of his water, for lack of anything better to drink. Why did it bother him so much that Zach had checked up on Tito before he did? “Tito’s good, right?”

“He’s just fine.”

“He’s wondering where his grandson is,” Nate said. “You’re a prat for making him worry.”