Page 52 of Hockey Heart

“Alright, fine! I’m in,” he said, and I clapped my hands to show my approval, wondering if that first shot had taken its effect already.

We downed another shot. This one went down easier than the first and I didn’t have to dive instantly for the lime, but instead tasted the sharp and sweet oily flavor on my tongue for a moment. The cute bartender stood back and raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for my next request while other faces at the bar leered at him, shaking dollar bills and waiting for their turn.

“Another!” I yelled.

He laughed, but less jovially this time. Looking thoughtful for a second, he leaned over the bar to me.

“How about I make you an El Diablo instead?”

“What’s that?” I said, hoping he wasn’t making fun of me.

“Tequila, lime, creme de cassis, ginger beer… Seriously, I think you’ll love it!”

“Okay!” I yelled back over the music, my limbs already feeling a little looser.

He left to fix up my drink, throwing an ice cube over his shoulder and catching it in a glass for my amusement.

“Show off!” I shouted at him, laughing, and he grinned back. I was starting to feel better already. This was way better than that stuffy crowd back at the ball.

A voice to my left rattled in my ear, “Say, don’t I know you!”

A craggy-looking man with a black cowboy hat and glassy eyes was looking at me. At least when his eyes didn’t lose focus and drift away.

“Nope, I don’t think so!” I yelled back.

“Well, let’s change that then!”

It made me laugh. He seemed harmless enough, and he was at least eight drinks ahead of me.

“Oh, sorry. I’m married.” I bellowed.

“Hi Mary, I’m Max!” he yelled back.

“No, I’m MARRIED.”

He stared back at me, not understanding. So I raised my hand and tapped on the ring finger, feeling suddenly sad that there wasn’t a ring there, that there never had been, and maybe there never would be.

“No, I’m NOT married!” He called back.

“Hi!” another voice yelled at me from the side.

This one was younger, with nice hair and a coy smile. “Get you a drink?”

The bartender put my pink cocktail down in front of me and then turned to the other faces at the bar, all jostling for attention like a gaggle of baby birds crying out for worms from their momma.

Nice Smile Man looked at the drink and then back at me, “Ha, guess not!”

I leaned in and shouted into his ear so he could hear me.

“I’ll have a drink with you, but it’s too loud in here!”

He nodded and then pointed his head toward the end of the bar. Hopping off my bar stool, we walked through the thronging crowd to the door at the end and stepped out into the beer garden out back, welcoming the cooler air.

“This place is pretty wild,” I told him, breathing a sigh of relief at having escaped the throng of noise and people.

“Yeah, gets that way,” he said, smiling bashfully.

He was maybe half a foot taller than me, dressed in a casual black shirt, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots, matching his thick dark hair and brown eyes.

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