Page 9 of Starstruck
Colt
Who thefuck was it?
I clench my jaw as I type the name I haven’t heard in years. On one hand, I’m not surprised in the slightest that he ended up like this. I’d prepared myself for this day. But the other part of me, the one who once knew him, is struggling to believe my worst nightmare came true.
Logan.
It takes a few minutes for them to respond, both of them probably as in shock as I am.
Levi
THE Logan?
The one and only.
Colt
You’re joking, right?
I wish I was.
Levi
Fuck. That blows.
Colt
Plea?
Take a wild guess.
I slip my phone back in my pocket as I catch sight of a dive bar down the street, a neon sign readingASTRO Bar & Grillsticking out from the wall.
I finish my smoke and put it out under my shoe before tossing the butt into a nearby trash bin. When I swing open the door, warmth engulfs me, and I head inside.
The door slams shut behind me as I take in the space. Divebars like this can be found all over the city, each one less appealing than the last. All things considered, this seems to be one of the nicer ones I’ve been in, though the eclectic, dated decor dive bars are known for still fills the space.
Old-style photos and neon signs litter the walls. Above the bar, there’s one that readsStop Thinking, Start Drinkingin bold, red letters. It has dim, yellow lighting, and the dark floors are sticky, clearly not having been cleaned well in quite some time.
My nose turns up at that thought. It’s definitely not the most inviting space, but it has booze—cheap as it may be—and is open in the middle of a Monday, so it’ll have to do.
Even better, there are only a few other patrons, meaning my chances of being recognized are slim. I examine the two older men sitting at a table to my left, both of them clearly drunk and completely uninterested in whatever’s happening around them, too engrossed in their conversation with each other to notice me.
My eyes shift to one end of the bar counter where there’s another man, maybe around my age or a few years older. I can’t see his face, and he’s nursing a glass of something, too focused on his phone to pay any attention to me.
My shoulders slump as I take a step further into the establishment. I scan the row of empty stools lining the bar until my eyes land on the back of the head of a woman with long, chestnut-brown hair.
The back of a head I’d recognize anywhere.
My mind flashes back to the day of Audrey and Brennan’s funeral—the first time I saw the woman seated on the stool in front of me.
“QUIET IN MY TOWN” BY CIVIL TWILIGHT
The church is already packed full of people when we arrive. I was shocked when Kevin told me they were having an open funeral for Audrey and Brennan, but being here now, it makes sense.
They wanted to give everyone a chance to say goodbye.
My chest tightens at that thought.
