Page 81 of Just Like That

Looking around from my elevated position, I can see that I’m the only customer in the place. In fact, I’m the only person here full stop, because there’s no one behind the bar either.

For a moment, I wonder if it’s closed, then a voice comes from behind me.

‘Sorry, love.’ A man with a stocky frame and a well-manicured salt and pepper beard scoots round behind the bar, giving me a broad smile. ‘What can I get you?’

I frown; I haven’t thought about this, and I’m not in the frame of mind for making even the simplest of decisions.

‘I… eh… I’m not sure.’ I scan the vast collection of bottles behind the bar, seeking inspiration, but I come up empty-handed.

‘Maybe a long drink? G&T? Vodka lemonade?’ he suggests and I shake my head. ‘Or do you like cocktails?’

‘Yes. Let’s go for a cocktail. What’s the strongest one on your menu?’

The man narrows his eyes slightly, as if trying to get a measure of me, and I realise it’s probably not the best thing to walk into a bar and essentially ask for ‘rocket fuel’.

‘I’ve had a bad day.’ I shrug unapologetically. ‘Need something to take the edge off. It’ll be my first – and probably only – drink.’

‘Fair enough.’ His smile this time is sympathetic with a dash of concern. ‘Here’s the menu. Why don’t you tell me what you fancy?’

I’m mildly disappointed that he’s not just going to point something out for me, but he obviously doesn’t want to be a co-conspirator in whatever mess he suspects I may end up in. Scanning the menu, my eyes zoom in on the word ‘tequila’. Yup, that’ll do it.

‘I’ll have a Mexican Martini.’

I hand him the menu back and pull my phone out of my bag to see if Seth’s been in touch, but he hasn’t and I know he won’t be. Unable to bear the distance between us when things are such a mess, I tap out a quick text to Jackson and he answers in less than a minute to say that everything is fine and under control.

‘Et voilà.’ The barman places the thinly stemmed martini glass in front of me on a paper coaster. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Thanks.’ I flash him a grateful look.

Taking a long sip of my drink, the zinginess and alcoholic heat seem to instantly reach all the parts of me aching for an escape from the horrible situation I’ve found myself in.

‘Is it good?’ The barman asks.

‘So good.’ I exhale heavily. ‘Just what I needed.’

‘Glad you like it. It’s certainly got the strength you’re looking for. Are you a resident here?’

‘Yes, just for the night.’

‘Has you being here got anything to do with your bad day?’

‘Nosey one, you are.’ I crinkle my nose so he knows I’m making light of this.

‘Comes with the job.’ This time it’s him who shrugs unapologetically. ‘I’ve helped out many a toiling guest in my time. Barman-slash-counsellor, I am. Even considered doing a qualification, but it cost too much.’

‘That’s a shame. Certainly sounds like you would have put it to good use.’

‘Ah, what can you do, eh? I’m Eamon, by the way.’

‘Jess,’ I introduce myself in return.

‘So, what is it then? Men troubles? Women troubles?’ He potters around, cutting fruit and polishing glasses while he talks to me.

‘Not as such. Though I’ve probably cocked up that side of things too.’

Aware that I’ve nothing to lose by sharing with him, and I’ll never see him again after tonight, I fill Eamon in on my predicament, giving him the full ugly picture. It’s surprisingly therapeutic. He listens quietly, only breaking full concentration occasionally to serve drinks ordered through room service or for the restaurant.

‘Sounds like you’ve been through the ringer,’ he says, once I’m finished.

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