by Ashley Drew
“I won’t disagree with you there. We’ve got the markings on the cement outside to prove it.” I refer to their initials carved into the step in front of the entrance door.
“I remember that day like it was yesterday…” he trails off and grows quiet.
Moments like these are rare when it comes to Norman. Most days, he comes to the pub, sits at the bar, and does nothing but irritate the shit out of all of us. But any mention of his late wife always seems to bring him that everlasting peace that lives on in her memory. When I see him this way, lost in his thoughts and longing for her, he doesn’t even have to say it out loud, because I know he longs for the day when life no longer stands in his way, when the breath in his tired lungs finally gives out, and the imminent beauty of death reunites him with the love of his life.
Returning from his thoughts, he chugs the rest of the water and stares into the top of the glass, setting it down on the bar. “Love is beautiful and strange; it can make the heart complete and whole and yet, it’s also capable of smashin’ it into a million pieces. Trust me, I’ve seen both sides of it. So, whatever is goin’ on in that head of yours, Nicky boy, the ugly side is unavoidable. Someone will get hurt. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. But I’ll tell ya, once you’re out of the ugly stuff, it’s so damn beautiful.”
I haven’t ever felt any sort of connection to Norman in the past. To me, he’s only been the old guy that sits at the bar every Friday, ordering the same mundane drink, having the same mundane conversations with the bartenders, living out the rest of his mundane life.
If I’ve learned anything at all tonight, it’s that there is nothing mundane about Norman’s life—past or present.
I pull a glass off the shelf, throw a few ice cubes in it, and pour myself, as well as Norman, a splash of Glenfiddich, his eyes questioning my actions.
“To Alice,” I toast, holding my glass out to him, and when he realizes what I’m doing, he brings his glass to mine and nods his head in appreciation. I down the small amount, and though it is only a splash, it’s enough to take the edge off.
But it’s only temporary because the moment I see my dad walk through the pub doors, the guilt washes over me once again. It’s still only Friday. I haven’t yet left, and I can’t help but wish it was already Sunday.
Then, it suddenly occurs to me.
Vanilla. I can’t live without vanilla.
Friday night at the pub—standing in the same spot I had exactly a week ago, under the same lone spotlight in the entranceway while I surveyed the commotion of the busy bar.
Only, I don’t expect Nick to suddenly appear behind the bar, his eyes hooked into mine. This won’t happen because he’s in San Francisco for the weekend with Riley, suddenly leaving me with the slightest ache in my chest.
“If it isn’t my second-favorite girl in the entire world,” Braiden declares when he appears out of nowhere. He drapes his arm around my shoulders and smacks a sloppy wet kiss smelling of bourbon and orange peel on my cheek as blotches of pink tint his sun-kissed skin.
“Second-favorite? I can’t say that I’m not offended, Braiden. Who has the pleasure of beating out yours truly to the coveted first-place title?”
Pinching his index finger to his thumb, he slides them across his lips, gesturing the ‘my lips are sealed’ deal.
“Whoever she is, her name better not start with G or end in -emma. Otherwise, I’m outta here!”
Braiden lets out a laugh as we weave our way through the crowd. “I promise you, her name does not start with a G or end in -emma. But, we are hanging out with someone whose name does start with that letter and ends with that suffix.”
I halt, jerking him forward and flinging his arm off me. “Are you shitting me?”
“She wanted to hang out tonight, and when I said I had plans to meet up with you, she wanted to come along! What was I supposed to do, say no?”
I cross my arms like a stubborn child, arching my eyebrows in defiance. “Yes.”
“Oh, come on, Benster,” he urges and wraps his arm around me again. “We’re all grown-ups now. Can’t you set aside whatever differences you had in the past and just learn to co-exist? Besides, you failed to spend any time with your old pal this week, and you surely wouldn’t leave me hanging now, would you?”
Damn. He has me cornered into a wall with that. I don’t say a word. Instead, I stick my tongue out at him and roll my eyes. I really have a knack for the bratty kid act.
“Corinne!” Gemma calls out over the rumbles of music and voices when she sees us, raising her beer in the air. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing the party!” Of course I mind, but I don’t say anything. “When Braiden said you two were hanging out, I had to get in on this little powwow. It’s like old times!”
Old times, huh? I suppose that would mean unsubtle jabs at one another, a death stare or two, and the battle for Nick’s attention. I guess we’ll have to forgo the last one, with Nick’s absence and all. Okay, old times it is!
“Well, you know how that saying goes,” I start. “Two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
She pulls her mouth into a smirk, taking a swig out of her beer bottle, apparently not amused by my joke.
Braiden begins to sing the lyrics to the Three’s Company theme song, summoning someone behind me with the wave of his hand.
The moment Tess appears at our table, Braiden grabs her waist and pulls her down to his lap. I can’t help but notice the less-than-pleased expression on her face, seemingly directed at me, and I begin to think her displeasure has more to do with my presence, rather than Braiden’s tone-deaf serenade.
“Tess, babe, we need to get the party started over here. What do you say we get our good friends a couple shots of tequila?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Tequila, Braiden? I think I’ll pass.”
Pointing his finger across the table at me, he bellows out a snarky laugh. “You will do no such thing. It’s Friday night. You said you’d make it up to me, and what better way to do that than with a shot or two? Tess, baby, we’ll take the shots.”
I think I hear Gemma cheer and high-five Braiden, but I’m too focused on the look of death Tess is giving me. Eyes like daggers, her stare claws into me, and if looks could kill, then someone ought to be writing my eulogy and digging my grave because I’d be completely fucked. She pushes herself off Braiden’s lap without saying a word, and I notice the way her fingers brush the inside of his arm before she walks back toward the bar.
“You know Nicholas will never approve, right?” Gemma says, interrupting my thoughts about Tess. I glance up and notice Braiden’s eyes following Tess like an obedient puppy. “You’re asking for a death wish.”
“I am the ultimate optimist, Gemma. Don’t you ever forget that. God, who knew that a woman in an apron could be the biggest fucking turn-on ever?”
Some things never change. Even after all this time, it appears that Braiden still has a thing for his best friend’s sister.
“Do you still have a thing for Tess?” I ask, nodding my head toward the bar.
“How could I ever stop? Look at her!” Braiden’s eyes are still locked on Tess. “And the feelings aren’t one way, my friend.”
“So, you and Tess are…?”
His eyes struggle to pry themselves away from her, finally turning to me to finish my thought. “We haven’t put a title on it or anything, but…yeah. Tess and me,” Braiden declares, his lips forming a tender smile as Tess’s name vibrates over them. What started as a crush between friends has seemingly blossomed into something much more, which strangely causes a pang of regret to peek out of my happiness for them. “But we haven’t told Kelley yet, so don’t say anything.”
“What are you two waiting for anyway? Sorry to say this, buddy, but telling him that you’re banging his little sister later won’t be any better than telling him you’re banging her now,” Gemma points out. Scanning the crowd over Braiden’s shoulder, she twirls a piece of her long, blonde hair, which I heard can’t
be good for a person’s roots. She keeps up with that habit of hers, and she’ll be adding Rogaine to her beauty rituals before she hits forty. I think about offering her the advice, but then I don’t.
“Thanks for that insight, but we haven’t banged yet, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. You must have major blue balls by now,” Gemma speculates, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter.
“Ha-ha. Laugh all you want. I can get laid if I wanted to, easily. I mean, who wouldn’t want this, right? Tess eventually caved.” He waves his hands over himself. “But she isn’t ready, and I respect her for that. So I’ll wait. Until then, I’ve got Pamela Handerson at my beck and call.”
I scowl. “Pamela Hander—” I stop mid-word when the realization hits me. “Nice, Braiden.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Gemma assures, “you’re not the only one not getting any. Yes, I have needs, we all do, but it doesn’t mean that chivalry needs to die! I would still like to be wined and dined, first and foremost, and then you can take me home and do whatever the hell you want with me.”
Braiden cocks an eyebrow, suggestively. “Ah, music to every man’s ears.”
“I think out of all of us, Nicholas is the only one consistently getting laid. Riley said they hump like rabbits. I guess I would, too, if I only saw my man on the weekends.”
Oh boy. If I wasn’t ready for that drink before, I am definitely ready now. A few drinks may be in order if there is any possibility of erasing the image that Gemma seared into my head. The thought is a bit weird—Nick having sex. Even hearing it in my head makes me uneasy. Of course he has sex with Riley. I mean, she is his fiancée, but I don’t necessarily want to hear about it. I’ll never look at a rabbit the same way again.
“I hear that tequila shots are in order!” William yells over the boisterous acoustics of Rage Against the Machine and places three shot glasses down on the table, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Tess told me you were here, so I wanted to personally deliver these myself, and see how this kid is doing.”
Beaming, I tilt my head up and place my hand over his. “Good. Really good, actually.”
A smile of approval spreads across his face. “Glad to hear it, kid. You should tell that dad of yours not to be a stranger, and stop by one of these nights that I’m looking after this old place. It’d be nice to see a friendly face in here that’s not twenty-something. He and Jamie could chaperone the joint. You know, help break up the fights, the public displays of affection, whatever you young folks do nowadays.”
“I will definitely tell them that.” I giggle at his suggestion.
“You know what? It feels like old times, you kids sitting here together. You all weren’t even legal to drink yet.”
I can’t agree more. It truly feels like the old days, when we would hang out at the pub on Friday nights, the four of us occupying a table in the corner while Nick worked whatever job needed to be filled for the night. Of course, the fact that we could sneak drinks without the hassle of getting carded was pretty awesome, but mainly, we hung around while Nick worked, and waited until he finished his shift. Somehow, our group didn’t feel complete unless Nick was around. It still feels that way.
“Time certainly flies, doesn’t it?” he reflects, his remark evident in the deeper-defined lines running across his forehead and in his slightly grayer hair. “Listen, tonight is on me. You kids enjoy whatever you want. Every server and bartender is at your beck and call, including that daughter of mine, ya hear?”
“You da man, Mr. Kelley!” Braiden juts a finger out at William as he is summoned back to the bar.
“Good God,” Gemma begins, biting the nail on her index finger while she watches William. “That Kelley gene pool, man. I wouldn’t mind taking a dip in that because it is hot, hot, hot!”
Oh lord. If she isn’t after one Kelley, then she’s after another.
She lifts one of the shot glasses off the table and raises it in front of her. “I know he’s married and all, but I have to wonder if the senior Kelley kisses just as good as his junior.”
I take one of the shot glasses, hold it to my lips, and down it quickly, the burn instantly torching the back of my throat, igniting my tear ducts and filling my eyes with water. My gag reflexes kick in soon after, and just when I feel the tequila beginning to rise back up my esophagus, my stomach decides it wants the booze, so my mouth releases a wheezing cough instead.
Now I remember why I don’t drink hard liquor—because that happens. If teenage Corinne was here to witness this catastrophe, I bet she’d laugh and call me a loser. On a lighter note, it does its duty and relaxes the nerves a bit, but the night is young, and Gemma seems to have diarrhea of the mouth, so who knows what else she’ll be spewing out.
“Whoa, you okay there, babe?” Braiden asks while he pats my back a few times.
I force a smile, the aftertaste of tequila hanging on for dear life at the back of my throat. “Peachy.”
Gemma puts her glass to her lips and swallows the amber liquid in one continuous gulp, her mind still focused on the older Kelley. “I mean, he must, right? I’ve seen the way he lays it on Marlene, and if they’ve been together for as long as they have, then he must be doing something right. I hear those two still get down and dirty.”
I roll my eyes, sighing. “Not that I’m really interested in talking about Marlene and William’s sex life, but you know this…how?”
“Riley. Before Nicholas moved out of his parents’ place, she would stay over, and she heard them go at it on a few occasions. The walls in that house are paper thin. Braiden, remember that time I came home for summer break? We were hanging out when Nicholas and Riley first started dating, you and I went outside to smoke some bud, and when we went back to the living room, we could practically hear them doing the deed in his room?”
Braiden pounds his fist on the table as he belts out a laugh. “Until then, I never knew how in touch Riley was with religion: ‘God!’ ‘God!’ ‘Gooood!’” He imitates, throwing his head back and shutting his eyelids tightly.
Hell. Why must these two keep putting such images in my head? Is it strange that I keep seeing Nick and Riley’s heads on rabbit bodies?
Meant for Braiden, that third shot of tequila beckons me, and not missing a beat, I reach for it, bring it to my lips, throw it back, and slam it on the table in one fluid motion. At first, it stings my throat, my eyes squeezing shut in anticipation of the outcome, but unlike the first shot, this one goes down pretty smooth. I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth when a tiny dribble of liquid escapes out of the corner, just like I’ve seen the cowboys do in those old western films.
“Hey, you lush! That was mine,” Braiden accuses.
“I think you’re forgetting who you’re dealing with here, pal,” I counter, swaying my head as Led Zeppelin’s Babe I’m Gonna Leave You starts to rock the bar.
The effects of the tequila begin to warm every nook and corner of my body, my mind slowly releasing the awful thoughts of Nick and Riley, but even as they start to fade away, questions still linger in the midst of the haze. Why should it even bother me? Is it jealousy? Am I jealous of Riley? I can’t be, can I? Because in order for me to be jealous, my feelings for Nick would have to run deeper than friendship.
Oh. God.
I look around for the first available server or bartender I see, except for Tess, because let’s face it, the girl doesn’t want anything to do with me right now, and I highly doubt she’d appreciate any requests coming from me. Luckily, that one bartender with the bright red hair and piercings happens to walk by our table, and I order another round of shots.
Braiden smacks his hand down on the table. “Hallelujah! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Benster, babe, I feel like I’ve time-warped back to the good ol’ days. Too bad Kelley isn’t here for this. The dude’s probably not doing jack-shit.”
“Or he could be doing Riley,” Gemma smirks, winking at Braiden.
Why she keeps making N
ick’s sex life the topic of conversation is beyond me, and it’s irritating as shit, even more so now with the tequila coursing through my veins.
“Alrighty, kids, nature calls,” I announce, excusing myself from this awful conversation.
I force my way through the crowd toward the bathroom, but not without getting pushed and groped in the process. Any other day, a poke in the ass or a pinch to the boob would be enough to take my fist to a guy’s teeth, but I’m too consumed by the idea of Nick and Riley, together—engaged. Perhaps I’m being egotistical, and maybe I can blame a tiny bit of what I’m about to say on the tequila, but let’s be real. Before that chick even met Nick, I was the woman in his life. That’s right. Me. Yours truly. Corinne Freaking Bennett.
I strut down the hallway to the little girl’s room, head held high, chest in the air, owning that title, and no one—not even some puppy-dog-eyed, cute-as-a-button do-gooder—can ever take that away from me.
“God, I’m such a bitch,” I mumble to myself, opening the door to the bathroom where I find Tess standing in front of the mirror fixing her hair. The loud acoustics thrumming through the corridor fade behind the door as it shuts, but is replaced with the sounds of flushing toilets and running water.
“You said it. I didn’t,” she remarks, smoothing out the loose strands of hair that have fallen from her ponytail. She quickly lifts her green eyes to my reflection in the mirror, before returning them to her own. She must have ears like a bat if she heard me. Or I must’ve not said it as quietly as I thought I had.