Page 31 of Bourbon Breakaway

But I want to be alone with Joey. Or at least with our conversation. I don’t want Izzy and his regulars listening in on years of catching up. And there’s no chance of her opening up if we’re on display.

I take my shot glass between three fingers and lift it. “Well, here’s to a break.”

She smiles. “And breakaways.” She corrects her language. “I don’t mean hockey breakaways. I mean, break-aways. As in us making it back. You know… home?” Her typically sassy gaze fades, replaced by a question.

I did break away from something. And her words tell me she did, too. What has Joey been through these past thirteen odd years?

Her wide eyes wait for an answer. She wants to know if I’m happy to be back. I feel happier now on a Tuesday night in Sly’s with Jolie than I ever felt in California. But I still don’t have the same sense of calm I had before I left. When it comes to my ex-wife, I stay on my toes. I don’t know if I’m in the aftermath of a hurricane or the eye of the storm.

“Yeah. Home. It’s good to be back.”

I search her face, asking the same question she just did, but don’t find the answer. Maybe it’s confusing for both of us. Especially now that I know Joey questions her career.

We clink our tiny glass shooters together. Blonde hair tumbles down her back and shoulders as she tips her head and brings that drink to her puffy pink lips. Her neck is exposed and milky white, vulnerable almost. I watch her throat bob as the liquid slides down and I wonder what it would be like to slip my dick down in there.

Before she catches me staring, I throw my shot back, and goddamn, did she make taking it look effortless. My body, on the other hand, sears like I just swallowed a snake of acid.

“The hell? This shit is strong.”

“You acted like you knew Whitehall. It’s a hundred and thirty proof.”

“I’ve only ever had it neat.” I try not to pull a face.

She shimmies her shoulders and giggles. “Oooh. So fancy.” She wraps her fingers around her beer and draws it closer but doesn’t take a drink. “What was it like in LA? Was it all espresso martinis and whiskeyneat?”

“A little bit. But actually, even though there’s this image of everyday stilettos and shit, it’s pretty chill, too. It wasn’t all bad. I liked that I had a heated outdoor pool and I could use it year-round.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.”

“And I lived in the mountains.”

“Really? I imagined you hanging out on the beach all the time.”

She imagined where I lived?“Not for me. Chloe wanted it, but I needed more privacy. Too many tourists down there.”

Jolie’s body language changes when I say Chloe’s name, and she doesn’t keep her feelings a secret, her words are simple but hostile. “Chloe seemed to want a lot of things.”

She signals her fingers toward Izzy like they have some secret code. A secret code I can’t exactly read and I don’t like not being a part of.

I’m guessing she’s asked for two more bourbons. I already see the first one settling into Jolie. Her shoulders are relaxed, her eyes, too.

“How the hell does a guy like you end up with a woman like her?”

“You sound like you know her.”

“Are you defending the woman who put you through a public divorce and wrung you dry?”

“No. I meant what I said. You sound like you know her. That the two of us couldn’t be any more different.”

“Was it opposites attract or something?”

Izzy is table side now, and he did indeed bring another round of doubles. How do Izzy and Joey know each other? From here? Or more? I try not to eye the bartender with suspicion but I do make sure not to let my gaze linger long enough for him to feel invited.

“Thanks, Iz,” she says.

He nods and doesn’t stay. He’s better at his job than I gave him credit for.

“Opposites attract?” I think about it. What drew Chloe and I together back then? The alcohol works through my veins, and my body loosens. The gentle lighting, the smell of stale beer, and the country music in the background gets me talking.

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