Page 7 of Beyond the Bright Lights

“Thanks,” he mutters as I set it down in front of him.

Mylan pushes his empty bottle towards me.

Damn that was fast.

“Want another?”

He shakes his head and Bruno relaxes his tense shoulders.

“I think I want something harder. Whiskey on the rocks please.”

Before I can turn away to make Mylan’s drink, Bruno slams his fist down on the bar. I jump and look around, but no curious heads turn our way. Either because the noise level masked the sound or because the two men are hidden in this corner behind a large pole where prying eyes can’t see.

I have so many questions about what just happened, but instead, I force myself to walk away and fetch Mylan’s order. By the time I return, both men are sitting, fists clenched as if they’ve had a fight, and neither will call truce.

Mylan peels open his hand to take the drink I hand him, and he swallows the dark gold liquid down in one gulp.

“Another,” he grits out, slamming the empty glass on the bar. I narrow my eyes and mount a hand on my hip. He grimaces. “Sorry. I’d like another one please.”

I have the overwhelming urge to cut him off right now, not only because that was rude as fuck, but also because this is not the same man who walked through those doors moments ago. This man has demons. Owning a bar, I've seen it far too many times. The way he grips the glass as if the moment he lets go, he'll lose his sanity. No, this man is facing an endless battle, one he doesn’t believe he can win.

He’s an alcoholic.

Why the hell is he at a bar?

Also, why is his friend letting him drink? Though, Bruno did try to dissuade him through their silent staring contest.

I return with Mylan’s drink and this time he savors the taste, letting it soak his tongue, his throat, before settling in his stomach. I sigh because it’s disheartening to see, especially in someone so young.

I want the other version of Mylan to return. The one who entered this bar with confidence and challenged me. I want him back to keep pushing my buttons because that confidence, and the way he looked at me, was exciting. Now, he’s so withdrawn into a state of denial, a wall of stubbornness built tall, he might as well be invisible.

“Oh em geeeee.” The sing-song voice of Cara Calloway barging through the door distracts me from the troubled young man. “Did y'all hear?”

Ginger returns from dropping off a plate of nachos at a rowdy table of guys and leans her round hip against the bar, arms crossed while Cara hands her keys over to Aaron. Ginger and I lock eyes and smile, both of us knowing, as the Gossip Queen of Silo Springs, Cara is about to share news that is none of her goddamn business.

She fluffs her straight brown hair, adjusts the fitted red top she’s wearing, and walks over to where Ginger and I stand.

“No, but I bet you’re about to tell us,” Ginger taunts.

“Did none of y’all get my texts?”

I wave my hand around the bar. “A bit busy tonight, Cara.”

“Whatever.” She scoffs and plants her palms on the counter to lean in as if she’s about to whisper. She does the exact opposite and raises her voice to speak.

“A movie is going to start filming here in two weeks.”

Ginger perks up. “Shut the front door!”

“I swear to God Almighty himself.”

I roll my eyes. “How have we not heard about this?”

“The announcement was just made, like, an hour ago while I was at the grocery store. Then I ran into Sarah in the parking lot who heard from Jess, whose cousin Amber Lee works at City Hall and confirmed it’s happening.”

“Again, how have we not heard about this?” I repeat.

Cara sighs dramatically. “Because, Lana, no one wanted to get fired. Amber Lee told Jess who told Sarah that they were given strict orders not to say a word until the official announcement was made. Mayor Truman was worried about the papa rats people showing up—”

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