“Well, I’m not you, and I have no interest in taking undergrads home with me.”
Or anyone, for that matter.
It’s been years since I’ve had any desire to take a woman to bed. Pleasure loses its appeal when you spend each day focusing on surviving to the next.
“Your loss, man. It worked out well enough for Morgan.”
“Morgan is twenty-five, not almost thirty-five. It would be creepy if I tried it.”
“More for me, I guess.” He chugs the rest of his beer and drops the empty can back on the counter. “Wish me luck.”
A middle finger in the air is the only thing he’s getting from me.
A dark cloud of melancholy settles over me as he swaggers off to find his next conquest. As annoying as my friends can be, their presence is a reprieve from the oppressive, gloomy aura that clings to me. It’s always worse when I’m alone, and over the years, I’ve found it’s possible to be completely isolated even when surrounded by a bar packed with people.
Not for the first time tonight, the strange woman from earlier floats back to the forefront of my mind. Little Miss Yellow couldn’t have looked more out of place if she tried. I doubt most people noticed. They were too drunk to be that observant, but I registered every awkward move she made. It was like she had an aura of her own—a lonely one that kept her stuck on the outside, locked in orbit without a chance at breaking through.
Against my better judgment, I took pity on her. The gnawing in my gut wouldn’t let me do anything else. Normally, I have a rule about not making small talk with the customers. It onlyencourages them, and the last thing I want is to hear some stranger’s life story. Yellow wasn’t like that, though. Despite the sadness in her eyes, everything about her was bubbly and cheerful, and not in an annoying way either. She didn’t feel the need to drag the conversation out any longer than it needed to be. I can appreciate a woman like that.
That doesn’t mean I wanted to talk to her again, and even if I had, she was gone by the time I made it back around to where she was sitting. A woman like that wouldn’t waste her time with me, anyway. I’ve seen my face, and I’ve been called both ugly and intimidating more times than I can count. Beyond my looks, as a thirty-four-year-old high school dropout who works in a bar, I don’t exactly bring much to the table. And if that didn’t scare someone away, the gloom would.
***
After the last patron leaves and the front door is locked, Cutter’s is surprisingly peaceful. Soft rock plays over the digital jukebox in the corner while I try to wipe away at least some of the stickiness from the bar top. Artificial lemon and cleaning chemicals mix in the air, giving the place some semblance of respectability. Not like the illusion won’t be ruined once we open tomorrow.
Even in the peace, the gloom is present. It’s especially heavy on nights I lock up on my own, made worse by the alien atmosphere outside. Neon lights scatter in the low-hanging fog, casting the deserted streets in an eerie glow. Stepping out the door is like walking into the Twilight Zone. It’s been years since I started working here, but my hackles still rise every time I traverse the abandoned streets.
Head up and eyes alert, I walk the few short blocks to my car. The looming dark cloud chases me, gaining ground with each ofmy hurried steps. Its cold tendrils reach out, creeping into my mind with the caress of a lover and the promise of rest.
Maybe this is the night I finally let it catch me—maybe tonight is the night I can finally get some peace. It would be all too easy to fade away into oblivion. No one would miss me. I’m nothing but a burden to my friends, and they will all go their own way eventually. This isn’t a town most lay roots in.
The sight of my lonely old Camero is enough to break away from the gloom’s grasp. I jog the last few feet—my aching knee be damned—and as the door slams behind me, the last of those dark wisps fade away, taking the insidious thoughts with them.
Thank fuck.
Three pictures tucked into the dash remind me exactly who it would hurt if I gave into those intrusive desires. I couldn’t do that to my ma, or to my brother and Karis either.
With an unsteady breath, I crank the engine. Harsh rattling shakes the car as the old girl sputters to life. She limps along the shadow-soaked roads, flashing a slew of warning lights I’ve chosen to ignore. One day, I’ll have the funds to take her into the shop, but for now, duct tape and foolish hope will have to do.
Yellow’s face flashes into my mind again. If there’s a woman who understands foolish hope, it’s her, with those too-trusting russet eyes. I’ve never seen anyone look so perfectly cartoonish before. Her wide button nose and full lips are something straight from a princess movie. If woodland creatures flock to her when she sings, I wouldn’t be surprised.
I don’t know if that level of naivety is a blessing or a curse. Either way, it’s not something I’ve ever known. Even as a kid, I was all too aware of how cruel the world could be. To go this long without realizing that harsh truth—I can’t begin to conceptualize it. That type of ignorance is cultivated by privilege I’ve never come close to tasting.
A loudpopand sharp jerk snap me from my thoughts as my car slows to a crawl.Fan-fucking-tastic.I maneuver the hunk of junk off to the side of the empty highway and pop the hood. Smoke billows out through the crack before I can even get out to open it fully. There is no way I’m fixing her tonight.
Just my fucking luck.
My fingers dig into my palms as I fight back the surge of violent anger flooding my veins. Roaring blood is the only sound that echoes in my ears as my jaw tightens and my teeth grind. It takes several long moments for me to regain my composure, and when I do, I pull out my phone and call the one person I know will always pick up.
The phone barely rings twice before a blunt yet groggy “Where the fuck are you?” cuts through the air.
Karis has never been one for rude awakenings, but that doesn’t stop her from keeping her cell’s volume on at night “just in case.” That fact has saved my ass more times than I care to admit. This isn’t the first time Brandy has failed me.
“I need your help.” My shoulders slump as the full weight of my situation sinks in.
No car means I’m going to miss work, and if I miss work, I’m going to get fired. Thus starts another hopeless cycle of needing cash without having the means to get it. Fuck me. I probably have to open another credit card I’ll never be able to pay off. Anything to make sure I don’t lose it all because of this goddamned piece of shit car.
“No shit, Sherlock. Now what’s your location, and do I need to bring my kit?” she snaps.
