Page 8 of Hard Hitter
"I do, actually," said Jett. "Then you can just leave us a good tip."
Quinn laughed, resigned, "Okay, that's fair. I'll have a Maker's on the rocks."
Jett tapped the bar top before turning around and grabbing the bottle of Maker's Mark off the shelf and pouring a glass.
"So, what brings you back?" Chris asked. "I would've thought your guys would have you set up with a physical therapist out there already."
Quinn took a sip of the amber colored liquid. It had been a long time since he last drank whiskey, but he felt the occasion called for it. Maker's was smooth, but still gave him the much needed burn to spark his senses. He took a moment before answering the question. Jett and Chris were two out of the three people who really knew what his life was like growing up with his mom. They'd been into his house and seen the worst his home life had to offer. It had been a long time since he'd been able to be honest about it.
"Well," Quinn sighed, "my mom's dying. I guess I should say goodbye or do what I can to…" he hesitated, thinking, "clean up any loose ends."
"Shit," Jett muttered while Chris grimaced and gave an "Oof."
"Yeah…" Quinn paused. "I wasn't sure how to take the news. I was on my way to the house but I thought you guys deserved a visit first. The bar was a happy coincidence, huh?"
Chris looked like he was considering what to say and then said, "Do you need us to go with you? I mean, I'm sure you'd be okay, but you don't have to face it on your own."
Quinn appreciated the offer, and was glad he could sit here and talk to his two friends as if their lives hadn't been completely flipped upside down in the last ten years, but he wanted to go alone. At least this first time. He had no idea what he'd be walking into and had a hard enough time preparing himself for his reaction, he didn't want to have to worry about theirs too.
"Thanks, man, but I think I should go alone. I have to meet with the nurse and go over all the boring medical stuff, ya know," Quinn said. "But seriously, thanks."
Jett and Chris seemed to accept this response and only took a few moments before changing subjects.
"Did you really sleep with Isla Merrin and Adriana Silva?" Jett asked, with the enthusiasm of a fifteen-year-old boy asking a buddy if he finally got to third base.
Chris laughed, putting his hands over his face as though embarrassed for his friend. "Jett, you're an idiot."
Quinn laughed too. "You are, and uh…yes, I did."
"Damn," Jett looked off in wonder, then back at Quinn. "When did you and Paula Harris break up?"
Glad to have another topic besides his mother and tragic childhood, Quinn accepted that this was the conversation now. They discussed his various flings and hook-ups for a while; long enough for Quinn to start feeling...ashamed? A little self-conscious, at least. He rarely felt anything about the way he lived his life and he wasn’t sure what it was about being here with his two old friends that brought on this sudden uncertainty. It wasn’t that he was actually with a new woman constantly, it was just that he had a way of intentionally avoiding connections with any of them.
There was a beat of silence and Chris looked quizzical before asking, "Have you seen her yet?"
"Seen who?" said Quinn, oblivious to the heavy tone in Chris’s voice.
"The long lost love of your life," Chris said, as if it were obvious.
Quinn looked at Chris, chewing on the inside of his cheek, the smile threatening to fade from his face. Leave it to Chris to bring up the serious stuff. Quinn refused to take the bait. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Chris looked challengingly back at Quinn, the two men having a stand-off, waiting for the other to break. Jett stood behind the bar, eyes going back and forth between his friends. Finally Quinn simply said, "I don't do love."
Chris laughed humorlessly. "You've never given it a chance."
Though he felt he could argue that point, Quinn didn't want to talk about her right now, but he was interested to know she was still in the area by the sounds of it. He had no intention of letting either of them know that his mind went straight toherat the mention of a long lost love.
Quinn was reaching for his drink again when Chris shrugged. "Not that it matters, I guess. She got engaged."
The rocks glass tipped over, ice and whiskey spilling onto the bar. "Shit…" Quinn began to reach across the bar at the stack of napkins to clean it up, frustrated that his hands were shaking and betraying his plan to keep it cool. "Engaged? When?"
"Oh, that's right," said Jett, using a much more effective bar towel to clean up the mess, "Sometime last February, I think. Some big shot corporate lawyer."
At that moment, Quinn was completely unaware of his facial expressions or actions. All he knew was the knotted feeling in his stomach was back and he really needed another drink. A double.
"Name’s Emerson Yates," said Chris. "He's a big, Thor-looking dude."
Quinn's face twisted in disgust and he scoffed. "Emerson Yates?Is he fucking sixty years old? Does he smoke a pipe in his fucking study with, what, leather-bound books in his...his fucking plantation? The fuck kinda name is that?Emerson Yates?" He shook his head. "You guys are shitting me. There's no way the Rae I knew would marry a guy named fuckingEmerson Yates."
