Page 51 of Seen
And by people, I mean Ezra. Isaac, Alaric, and Gerald are here somewhere too, as well as Jess, tiptoeing around me as if I’m a hand grenade with a loose pin.
“Neil. Are you okay?”
Ez sidles up to me. Too blind and too busy lining up four G&T’s for four women nervously watching me, I only notice when his handsome mug is right up in my bloody face. Or are there three women? Or five? Or who gives a shit? I’m six shots past caring whether I’m pouring singles, doubles, or tipping the whole bottle neat down my own throat and then smashing it across the bar.
“Fine,” I slur. “Never been finer.”
“You sure?”
“These lovely ladies think I’m pretty fine, don’t you, ladies?”
“Sorry,” Ez mouths to them. “On the house.”
Rule number one of Earth Bar: don’t make women uncomfortable. We don’t tolerate it from the punters or the staff. He tugs on my arm. “Let me take over here, Neil.”
“Bog off. I’m fine.”
The lights are low and the music loud. Party vibes. I shimmy my hips and click my fingers. Or try to—more of a flop than a snap. Silly, drunk fingers. Voices collide. One of the women laughs and preens, her edges soft and fuzzy, all curvy shadows, merging into her friend. I might have told her when she ordered her drinks that I liked her big, soft boobs. I love big, soft boobs. A giggle escaping me, I make boob squeezing shapes with my hands in time to the beat. Silly, drunk hands.
A small sober corner of my brain whispers,stop, you’re embarrassing yourself, but the hammered majority shoves it aside.
“Neil,” Ez calls. “There are people waiting.”
Wanker. Smug, bar-stealing, bossy-boots wanker. My anger flares, sharp, like the shaved ice hitting the gin glasses. Sharp and honest. So sharp, in fact, it’s thrilling. So thrilling, as I lurch for the lemon slices, the dancefloor tilts sideways.
“Neil,” Ezra says again, urgently. “The lady says they asked for mojitos. What are you doing with the gin and lemon?”
“What?”
Neat Bombay Sapphire slops over the sides of the jigger and onto the bar. Cutting through the ring stains in a thin silver stream, it dribbles off the edge and onto the floor, breaking loose. My woozy brain contemplates licking it up. I would, if I could trust my coordination.
“Mate.” Ez’s hand lands heavy on my shoulder. I shrug it off. “Why don’t you take a break, bud. I’ve got this.”
“Nope. I’m working my shift. This is still my bar.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it’s still your bar. Just not maybe tonight, eh? Go home and put your feet up. Have a rest.”
“Home?” I slam the bottle down harder than I mean. The women fall quiet. “This is my home! And you’re not taking it from me.”
His fingers grip my arm. “Come upstairs, Neil. We’re still fairly quiet, and Jess is early. She can take over.”
Who the fuck does Ez think he is, ordering me around?
“It’s my bar.”
“Yes. But if you carry on like this, it won’t have any customers. I’m trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself. Stop,” he says, threateningly. “Now. You’re drunk.” He makes to grab the bottle.
“Don’t you—" I pull back too fast.Crash. My elbow catches a glass, and the glass catches the floor. Just in time, I grip the bar, so I don’t follow it.
“Okay, Neil. Upstairs. We’re done here.”
The warmth from the whiskey, the gin, and every other bloody concoction I’ve poured down my throat bubbles up in my chest, turning molten.
“Done?” A fire’s rising inside me, white hot and uncontainable. I’ll show the smug bastarddone. “Trust me, Ez. I’ve only just fucking started.”
I sweep my arm across the bar. Glasses go flying in a storm of gin and ice. The women squeal, dodging shards. The Bombay Sapphire bottle’s next, splintering into a million shimmery pieces, fragments of outrage and helplessness and grief for my old fucking amazing life.
The glasses and the gin aren’t nearly enough. I’m gonna bring the whole fucking bar crashing down. I swipe at the optics. A few clatter along the bar, but all the bottles stay where they are. Wholly unsatisfying. The ice bucket slams to the floor, though, a pleasing metallic clash, sending frozen stars of ice skittering in every direction.
