Page 19 of Unhinged

I laugh. “I’m kinda new. Enlighten me.”

With a barely straight face, the brunette spouts off the ingredients. Well, shit. I can have all the ingredients for a chocolate cake, but that doesn’t mean a birthday cake it shall be.

As I look for a bottle of butterscotch shit, Red asks, “How come you weren’t here last night?”

Sliding open another cabinet door, I make a face as I remember where the hell I was last night. Oh, yeah. After Amos yakked all over my life and brought up Hadley, I hid in my room, obsessing about what she and I did after the party. I also contemplated my life and Amos’s death. The one difference since that night is I no longer beat off to Hadley’s picture. It’s a shitty reminder I can’t deal with, let alone get hard. So I just lie in my room like a bloated carcass on the side of the road. “I had the night off. Why?”

“Well, we come in almost every night.”

“Oh. I didn’t think anyone noticed me.”

“I notice you.” She giggles, and it sounds like one of those dolls in the toy aisle at Target.

My damn face burns. Other than Rhonda at the firm, nobody has shown actual interest in me.

Well, I guess that’s not true.

Still, this feels different, and I don’t know how to handle it. As much as I pretend I’m someone I’m not, I don't know anything about asking a woman out on a date. And the last time I fucked a woman… There was no happy ending. At least for me.

Two of the other girls giggle with Red, and I’m tongue-tied, figuring out what to say next.

As I set out shot glasses, I grab a bottle of cheap vodka and pour. Kerosene tastes better. When I pass the filled glasses to each one, Red asks, “What’s your name, anyway?” Damn it. I totally missed that one.

“Uh, Greg. Yours?”

“Kleo with a K.”

I laugh. “That’s a long and an inconvenient name. Does it fit on your driver’s license?” I’m crashing and burning spectacularly.

They all laugh, not unlike fake porn-scene laughs. Kleo with a K says, “We’ve been coming here because I wanted to meet you. Up close.”

I give them a look that doubts their soberness. “Uh, okay… Why?”

She shrugs, biting her maroon-colored lip. “Why not?”

I can’t help my embarrassed-but-struggling-to-be-cool smirk. “Because I’m just a bartender. Not even a good one.”

“You don’t have to be.” The blonde to the right of her nudges Kleo’s arm as she mutters something. Both eyeball me like I’m the punchline to a joke or the last guy on earth. Damn. Is this the only open bar tonight?

“How old are you?” I blurt, not knowing why, really, as my gaze falls to her plunging neckline, showcasing push-up tits.

“Twenty-five. How about you?”

“I’ll be twenty-nine next month.”

“Happy early birthday.” She side-eyes her fellow healthy-hootered brunette friend on the other side of her.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Do you have plans for it yet? Girlfriend throwing you a party, treating you to dinner, or…” she drifts off as her blue eyes swirl over me, and I nearly drop a stack of shot glasses.

“Everything okay over there, Rodwell?” Milt slurs from the other side. But he always slurs, lit or not. I glance behind me and nod, hoping he stays the hell over there.

Turning back to Kleo with a K, I say, “No girlfriend or plans.”

The flat-chested brunette of the group gasps, “You’ll be alone? How sad!”

Laughing, I work on nippily refills. “I guess I didn’t feel that sad about it, but thanks.”

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