Bartender's meaty hands swipe away my full ashtray. After a lunch shift and a dinner shift, we are once again the only two men in the bar. The waitresses, pretty much all Asian and definitely all pretty, seem to disappear when there are no customers. I spy my face in the mirror, jutting out above the bottles, bored and vacant.
"Quit looking at yourself, Nate. You ain't that sexy."
"It hurts when you tell me that Barkeep, hurts like you'll never know."
"Yeah, I hear the same thing about butt sex."
I cough up some of my drink and a day's worth of bar smoking.
"You are one fucked up bartender."
"And you're pretty fucking amazing, bro."
"Gee thanks. It takes a hell of a guy to sit all day in a hotel bar. Fortunately for all involved, I am up to the task," I swig my drink smugly.
"No, I mean, you been here since eleven, it's true. But your tab is only for that lunch you and the hot chick had and a couple of drinks. That salesman paid for like, five of your drinks, that couple from Wyoming bought you dinner. I mean, what the fuck? You some kind of politician or something?"
"Not hardly," I take another sip. The world is spinning a little and I don't really mind it; it's the beginning of the good feeling alcohol can offer, which is, in one way, also the beginning of the bad.
"But," I say, feeling my lips loosen. "Mom always said I was a people person."
Bartender doesn't come back with a witty retort, so I take my eyes off my drink, raise my head and look up to him.
He's looking over my shoulder but I don't need to turn around. Hell, I don't even need the mirror. The look on his face says it all: Leigh's back.
"And how is your mom? Still saving the masses from their own inability to follow the righteous path?"
"Hey Leigh." I stand. Dad always taught me to stand when a woman approaches my table, even when my table's a bar.
"Oh, sit down."
"James," she says to the bartender. "Whiskey Sour, please."
"Your name is James?"
"For her it is."
Leigh drinks her drink in a gulp. I look her up and down: lithe, sultry, coquettish, beautiful… you can pick your adjective but, in my humble opinion, a vulgarity defines her appearance best. She's fuckable. Eminently fuckable.
"So how did the meeting go?"
"Pay your tab," she says. "We need to talk."
"Oh man," says Bartender.
"Yeah," I agree.
"What?" asks Leigh.
"Those words, they're just so awful," I say.
"Scary" says Bartender.
"They just conjure up memory after memory of bad conversations."
"Can we just get the fuck out of here?"
"That's better," I say.
Walking doesn't get easier after an afternoon/evening of sucking down Martinis. But I sacrifice for my friends. I'm just that kind of guy.
"Bartender, it has been a damn pleasure being served by you this fine evening. Please do your best to forget our names."
"Likewise," Bartender says. "And likewise."
Note: Just so there's less confusion, it turns out there will be more of these stories about Nate and Leigh (and others). Because of that, I am linking to the first two here:
https://www.pointsincase.com/blogs/nathan-degraaf/leftovers
https://www.pointsincase.com/blogs/nathan-degraaf/favor
I don't promise it will all come together, so the least I can do is get it all connected.