Page 72 of Falling Too Late

I headed to the showers, tying my hair up and quickly showering. I dried off in the shower stall and threw on a black T-shirt and jeans.

“Mine or yours?” Mario asked as I emerged from the showers. His face was turned down to his phone. Most of the lights were turned off in the building now.

“Yours.” I didn’t know why he even asked anymore; we always took his, but I did appreciate the gesture. He stood, pocketing his phone. “Let’s go.”

The bar was only a few miles from the gym. We parked and headed inside, seeing some other people who took classes from us.

“Here.” Mario passed me cash. “For the coin machine. We can do a few rounds of pool. I’ll grab drinks. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” I took the cash and headed to the coin machine. Once the coins were in hand, I scored us a pool table at the back corner of the bar. The balls rolled out the bottom and I racked them, lining them up for break.

“Here you go.” Mario handed me a well whiskey on ice, and I sipped it.

“Thank you.”

We played a few quick rounds in silence. Mario and I had been working together for the last five years. We had a pretty good flow.

After the third round, he cursed. “Why are you so fucking good at everything you do?”

I placed the end of the pool stick on my shoe, laughing. “I’m not good, you’re just really bad.”

“Tell that to those awards on my uniform at home.”

Mario had retired from the military and was a detective here locally. He was in his late thirties but had enlisted shortly after his eighteenth birthday.

He was done with the party life and wanted to be someone of importance. Going into the military had given him the advantage of free schooling. He went through post, graduated top of his class, and got on the police force, working his way to detective status.

He worked in the drug unit now.

I’d joined the gym shortly after Alex’s sentencing.

At the memory of Alex, I drained my drink. “I’ll get us another round.” I gave a tight-lipped smile and headed up to the bar. It wasn’t a busy night. A few people were scattered throughout the building. Some loners were sitting up at the bar end. The jukebox continued to play old rock.

I smiled at Barry as he walked over. “What can I get for you, my dear?”

“Your well whiskey on ice and a stout.”

“You got it.” He tapped the bar top with his knuckle before heading off.

I rolled my head, the tension building in my neck. I was going to be sore tomorrow and was looking forward to a hot bath in my clawfoot bathtub at home. I turned to survey the bar. Mario was leaning against the pool table, his face lit up by his phone.

Even when he was off duty, he wasn’t really. “I think you need this. Here, drink.” I looked to my left, where a man had saddled up to the barstool next to me.

“You think so, huh?”

“I do.” I glanced down at the red drink. Vodka cranberry from what I could guess. My eyes narrowed at it.

“No, thank you. I’ve got my own drinks.” I dismissed him, turning my head from his putrid breath. He smelled and I had a strong guess he was an over-the-road trucker. I didn’t make a habit of taking drinks from strangers.

“You really going to turn down a drink?”

“Here you go, dear.”

I picked up both the drinks, arranging them so I could hold them with one hand, passing a bill to Barry.“Keep the change.”

Barry nodded to me before he looked at my unwanted companion.

“And thank you for the drink, sir,” I added in a sickly sweet voice, snagging the drink without it spilling and heading away from him.

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