Page 41 of Sawyer

“Of course! Nothing but the best, man!”

The bartender, a seasonal chick who must be staying for the off-season, places a full beer in front of me and winks. “Anything else you want?”

“Oh, ho ho!” Quinn chortles. “It’s on!”

“No, thanks,” I tell her, taking a gulp of my drink and turning to my friend. “Shut the fuck up, Quinn. You’re such an asshole.”

“Quilty as charged!” He finishes the rest of his pint in one go and slams the glass back on the bar. “You’re in a pisser. What’s eating you, huh?”

I turn on my stool, facing the mostly empty dining room. “Remember I told you I was doing a play over at the FOE?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m the male lead. Guess who the female lead is.”

“I have no clue.”

I give him a hint. “Poison…”

“Ivy!” He turns his own stool around and stares at me with his mouth open. “Ivy Caswell’s in town? In October? Why?”

“Priscilla’s sick. She’s helping out.”

“Oof. Poison Ivy, huh?” He nudges me with his elbow. “That sucks.”

“Sort of.”

“Only ‘sort of?’”

I shake my head, then take another sip of beer. “I’ve always liked her.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says gently. “But last fall after she left? You were a mess, man. She’s poison. At least for you

“What if she wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if she could give me a chance?Usa chance? Arealchance?”

“Last I heard, bro, she was wearing some other guy’s ring.”

“A cheater’s ring,” I say bitterly. “He cheated on her. I bet he’s down in Juneau cheating on her all over again.”

“I guess that’s possible,” says Quinn, finishing his beer. “Hey, too bad you don’t know anyone in Juneau. Someone who could—I dunno—follow him around on a Saturday night, you know? Keep an eye on him? Take a picture or two if he sees something incriminating?”

I glance at Quinn, who just worked for five months on a crabbing boat in Juneau.

“You know someone?” I ask him.

“Sure.” Quinn nods. “Like, twenty someones, who I just worked with for a whole summer. They’re like brothers to me.”

I think about this for a second. If Clark’snotcheating on Ivy, maybe I’ll get closure that way—by knowing that he’s changed his ways and will treat her right. That said, if he is cheating…fuck. It’ll hurt her to find out. And it’ll bemewho started the chain of events that led to her pain.

“What if one of your buddies finds out he’s cheating? What am I supposed to do? Text her a photo? ThenI’mthe asshole.”

“Aw, Sawyer,” says Quinn, gesturing for two more beers, his gaze lingering on the bartender’s ass for a beat longer than polite. “You’re already an asshole.”

“Thanks.”

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