Dallas
Iwent to work earlyfor my evening shift today. Aubrey didn’t question it. She put me to work and let someone else go home. They practically ran out of the here. And I practically ran here. After practice, I had to get out of the house. I needed some space. I told Logan I was going to work early, and he decided he wanted to come with me for whatever reason. I was still too pissed off to ask why, but there was still a part of me that didn’t want to leave Abby in the apartment alone all day. She’d stayed back during practice, but it was only for a couple of hours. I knew I’d be gone for the rest of the night.
So instead of forcing Logan to stay home, I called my sister. She could tell I was mad and only asked why once, but when I wouldn’t explain, she just sighed and said she would be over in fifteen. I texted Abby before I left, but she never replied. I’m a bit relieved I didn’t have to talk to her outright. I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. I’m afraid of saying something I’d regret.
So, now I stand here, serving all the drunken idiots the day before our big game. Logan has taken up residence at the far end of my section, hogging the only stool that doesn’t wobble or squeak when it spins.
“Last call!” Aubrey yells over the speakers forcing a large rush to the bar again.
If I can keep my head down for the rest of the night, I can get a decent night's sleep before tomorrow and have a chance at playing properly. I know myself enough to expect I won't play well when my brain is off its rocker.
While I wipe the bar down at the end of the night, Logan sits at the end, scrolling through his phone. “Dal, there’s this new bar that just opened up. They’re open till four in the morning all weekend. We should go. Take a load off. There’s no way work is enough to clear your head.”
He’s right. It’s not. “Dude, I’m tired. I just want to go to sleep.”
“Oh, come on.” He presses his hands together like he’s praying and bats his eyes. “Pretty please? I’ll buy.”
“Yeah, because pop is so expensive.”
He sticks his lower lip out now.
I check the time. One-thirty. “Fine. But maybe let's not stay out till four. We have places to be tomorrow.”
He smiles. “Deal.”
The bar sits on the outskirts of town down a short gravel road. A single light shines on the banner hanging over the front door. It reads, in bold block letters, “Steel Tavern.” Fitting for an old small warehouse. Motorcycles line the parking lot. A few trucks and cars are parked at the back of the lot. A group stands along the right side of the building smoking, drinks in hand. A patio full of people sticks out on the other side of the building, illuminated by large bulbed string lights.
We park at the back with the other vehicles just as a girl steps out of a car at the front.
“What is she doing here?” I ask Logan who has a mischievous smile on his face.
“Aubrey? I invited her.” He ignores my glare. “What? The three of us haven’t hung out in a while. She seemed excited. A little hesitant at first, but it didn’t take much convincing.” He makes his way toward her, greeting her with a fist bump.
I shake my head, dragging my feet toward them.
“Hey, Dal,” she says with a light smile.
“Hi,” I say coldly before walking past them and pushing through the front door.
The interior is what I expected. Large steel columns and beams, a concrete floor, industrial lighting, and a brand-new wooden bar with metal accents. The place is lively. I’m a little surprised to see a variety of people here. With how many bikes are out front, I fully expected the place to be overrun by leather.
Logan pushes his way through the crowd, Aubrey following close behind. She holds out a hand for me, but I don’t take it. Still, she keeps it there, just in case, I guess.
“The usual?” Logan asks, looking back at us. We both nod and head to an empty corner with our drinks.
“You guys ready for the game?” Aubrey asks, taking a sip of her beer. The clear mug is almost as big as her head. Her once bright green nails are now deep purple. I don’t know how she manages a bar with such long nails.
“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Logan holds up his glass before taking a long swig of the dark brown beer.
“Well, I’m rooting for you.” She offers me a flirty smile, but I barely look at her.
Logan and Aubrey talk for a while until Logan needs a refill and heads to the bar to get new drinks for everyone.
“So how have you been? Like more than surface-level shit.” She leans both elbows on the table and tips her head my way.
I shrug. “The usual. Work and baseball.”
“That’s surface level.”
