The bartender remained a good listener. Of course she was. She was a fuckin’ bartender, and it was in her job description! “That’s really tough. I get it. But you can’t let a shithead like her reinforce what you’re thinking. If you do that, it’ll only make things worse. Besides, she’s not seeing what you’re seeing. She’s seeing a projection of what she hates the most.”
Vivian considered that with a single sniff. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Still, that doesn’t stop it from hurting.”
“Of course it doesn’t. Because that was rude as fuck.”
At least she agreed. Vivian held up her empty glass and asked for one more. The bartender gave it to her on the house.
“To whom do I owe this pleasure, anyway?” Vivian asked, happy to see her glass full of alcohol again. One more and she would be done with this bar and Shari for good. “I didn’t get your name.”
The bartender smiled. Funny how a single smile could feminize a woman’s appearance. Vivian wasn’t attracted to one form of gender expression over the other. She was more attracted to how a woman owned her appearance and personality, and what she did with it in any situation. Shari had used her femininity to lure women into being insulted and hurt. The bartender offered a more masculine aura behind the counter, but the moment she smiled, it was like the glass barrier between them shattered. The remaining ice in Vivian’s drink reminded her of that.
This woman was the glorious opposite of Shari. While that woman’s vanity would surely be the end of her, the casual bartender remained effortlessly confident as she leaned against the bar and tugged at the sleeves of her red flannel shirt. “The name’s Kat,” she said, still smiling like she had won some grand prize. “You didn’t catch it because I never told you what it was.”
Vivian held up her final glass of the night. “Thanks, Kat. I’m glad you told me about Shari, because it sure don’t feel good being on the receiving end of her shit.”
“You’ll forget about it soon enough. You’ll be getting so many compliments that it’ll be a blip in your history.”
Alcohol bubbled in Vivian’s glass. “You think so, huh?”
“I know it.”
Vivian didn’t know if Kat was flirting with her. Bartenders were paid their worth in tips if they were charming enough. It’s working on me. Too bad she couldn’t tell if those sparkling eyes or those wagging brows told the truth or wanted Vivian to feel better about her shitty situation – and nothing more.
Other patrons came into the bar and sat not too far from Vivian, forcing Kat to wander away. Vivian remained at her end, sighing into her glass of alcohol as she tried to decide what to do with the rest of her night. Cry? Eat some ice cream? Cry some more? Hell, why not? She hadn’t had a good cry since the sickness hit. Never had the energy to cry.
“Thanks,” she said to Kat as she slipped off her stool, grabbed her purse, and wandered out of the bar. When she arrived an hour earlier, she had no idea if she would be leaving alone or not. Turned out she would, with only her hurt feelings to make her feel better as she walked down to the bus stop in the dark.
At least hurt feelings were better than no feelings. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded that she was alive after suffering in the hospital for so long.
This has been an excerpt from LIQUID COURAGE. Get it now on Amazon!
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The One That Ran Away Page 18