Page 24 of Forgotten Pieces

“Not really.”

“Oh come on, Sawyer. Do you want us sleeping on the bar?” I ask.

He wipes down the last end of the bar while Laney and I sit on the other side sipping on margaritas. “You two are not sleeping on my bar.”

“Well that don’t really leave us any options,” Laney slurs out.

Trace walks over to a drawer at the bar and pulls out a set of keys. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He hands me the set of keys. “You two can lock up the bar. Don’t drink all my booze. The red key on that is for the doors. The black key is for the apartment upstairs. I haven’t had a tenant in a few months and it’s furnished. Y’all can sleep up there. Burn off the booze.”

Trace took pity on whatever he thought I was going through. Never thought I would see the day. I jump off my bar stool with a slight wobble and walk around the bar and give him a hug. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m gonna head out though,” he says as he walks toward the front door. “Lock the door behind me. Use the back door to leave. There is a set of stairs to the left of the door. Be safe. Don’t cause trouble.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I say while Laney giggles.

Trace mumbles something about me being a mess before he walks out. I follow him and lock the front door before walking back behind the bar. I grab a bottle of wine and swing the keys around my finger. “You ready to party?”

* * *

I wake up to a pounding headache. I really need to cut back on the booze. Although I don’t know what else to do. I sit up to find out I passed out on the couch. Laney isn’t around so she must have fallen asleep in the bedroom. There is a half full bottle of wine on the table and a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos. I pick it up to discover it’s empty. Then notice the tell-tale sign of Cheetos on my fingers. Red powder stains my nails. At least I had a well-balanced meal last night.

I look around for my purse and see it on the floor next to the door. Standing up proves difficult and I nearly topple over as I make my way around the couch. I grab my bag and dig through it looking for Advil. I pour a few out in my hand and wander into the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. I find my phone on the counter but the battery is dead.

I look through the cabinets hoping to find some semblance of food but there are only crackers and tuna cans.Where the hell did we find that bag of Cheetos?

I walk down the hall to find the bathroom. There are three doors and the first one I try is an empty bedroom. The second door is the bathroom and I quickly relieve myself. I look in the mirror and swipe the mascara out from under my eyes. I head to the last door in the hall and find it slightly open with a snoring Laney spread horizontally across the bed. I tiptoe out and head back to the kitchen. I pull my phone charger out of my bag and head back to the couch with a glass of water. I plug in my phone and right when I sit down there is a knock on the door.

I groan as I find the energy to get off the couch again. I look through the peephole and see my sister standing on the other side. I open the door and the smell of food permeates my nose.

“Hey trainwreck,” she so kindly greets me.

“Not funny.”

“Thought you two might need some provisions,” she says as she holds up a few grocery bags.

“How did you know we were here?” I ask.

She steps into the apartment and finds her way into the kitchen. “I had to work at the diner this mornin’ to do some bakery shit and Ivy told me.”

“Oh.”

She looks at me with sincerity. “Don’t worry, Trace didn’t really say much to Ivy just that y’all stayed up here last night. I thought you might want some food.”

My sister has no idea about me and Ryder. She was only fourteen when I spent all that time with him and she was a book nerd who never left the house. I peek into the bags and find a few Gatorades and to-go containers.

“You are a saint,” I say as I open one of the food containers and the smell of bacon infiltrates my nose. The next one has pancakes and I squeal as I dig in with a huge bite.

She stays quiet for a few minutes while I dig into the breakfast like I haven’t eaten in days. “So what’s going on Tacoma?”

I look at her as I swallow a bite of quiche. “What do you mean?”

She sticks her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. “You haven’t really been the same since you got back here. And last summer you were actin’ weird too.”

“I’m fine, Rae. Nothing is going on,” I say around a mouth of food.

“You’ve been drinking a lot.”

I laugh at that. “That’s because there isn’t anything better to do in this town.”

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