See? Good people.
I thank Angel and head inside. It’s dark, cool, with TVs above the bar playing sports. Not crowded but not empty either. The bartender, Angel’s boyfriend, is an insanely attractive Hispanic man, tall and built, with long black hair in a ponytail and a neat beard, a bright smile, and an easy laugh that booms out as a patron at the bar makes a joke. I sidle up to the bar at the far-left end, examining the note.
—M,
She’s a new friend. Good people. Taking her with me to C’s party.
—A
A new friend. What a weird sensation. My whole life, my family has been my whole world, my only friends. I have acquaintances, sure, but I’ve lived a very myopic life, I’m realizing. And now I have a new friend—two, actually, because Lisa and I seem to be really hitting it off. But she’s also my boss, so that makes a friendship kind of weird.
The bartender comes over, looking me over—not gross or creepy, just sort of checking me out. His smile is friendly and welcoming as he tosses a small black napkin on the bar in front of me, hands resting on the bar, thick forearms braced like pillars.
“Hey, welcome. What can I get ya?”
I show him the card. “Angel brought me. She said I should introduce myself to you. I’m Myka.”
“Miguel.” He shakes my hand and then looks at the card, laughing, grinning. “The girl is always picking up strays. Cats, dogs, people. But she’s never wrong when she says someone is good people. So.” A shrug. “Whatcha drinkin’,guapa?”
I roll a shoulder. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t drink much. Something light and easy to drink, I guess. Start me off easy.”
“Fruity and sweet?”
“Sure. Surprise me.”
He nods, rapping on the bar with his knuckles. “One minute, I got something for you.”
He goes into whirlwind mode, pouring a bit of this and a bit of that into a silver cup, too many things too fast to catch, and I wouldn’t know what they are anyway. He then adds ice, clamps a glass over the cup, and shakes it vigorously, with professional flair. Pours the liquid into a martini glass, using the cup and glass to filter out the ice, hangs a slice of orange on the rim, and sets it in front of me. The drink is pink-orange and smells amazing.
“Try that,” he says, his grin charming and confident.
I see why Angel is dating him—and him her, at that. She’s as beautiful and charming as he is handsome and charming.
I sip the drink carefully—and I’m shocked. “It’s like Kool-Aid!” I say.
He laughs, nods, rocking back on one leg. “My own concoction. Still working on a name. Thinkin’ I might call it the Beach Fuck, but Angel doesn’t like that.”
I almost choke, spluttering. “Yeah, that may not be…appropriate.”
“But fun, right? And there’s enough booze in that, you drink a few and fuckin’ on the beach’ll start to sound real nice, yeah?”
“I can’t even taste the alcohol,” I say, taking another sip.
“That’s the point.” He checks his watch, a smartwatch with a thick leather band. “What time she say she’s picking you up?”
“She just said she’s off in an hour.”
He laughs. “Well, heads-up, Angel ain’t exactly an on-time sorta chick. But Cass’s thing starts at nine, and Angel can’t miss the bus or she don’t go, and this thing has been in the works formonths. So she’ll be here. Eventually.”
It’s seven thirty. So at most, I have an hour and a half to kill.
It turns out, an hour and a half are easy to kill with Miguel’s yummy drinks, and his conversation. He gets some of my story out of me, gives me a glass of ice water between drinks which he says will keep me from getting too tipsy too soon. He orders me a pile of nachos, which I devour.
And then it’s eight-forty and Angel is breezing in, dressed in a very mini mini-skirt with a literal bandana for a top and nothing else, the bandana folded so the point trails over her belly, tied in the back. She’s wearing sky-high heels, her hair is loose and teased out tohere, and her makeup is…a lot. On point, and perfect for her, but a lot.
Miguel rounds the bar and scoops her up, lifting her in the air, hands right on her bottom, right there in the bar, spinning her in circles like he hasn’t seen her in a year. They kiss, passionately, and then murmur to each other, foreheads touching.
My heart aches at the sight. Twinges with jealousy, which I viciously shove down. I’mhappyfor her, that she has that. He may have checked me out, but it’s obvious she has his heart. And…
