by Janice Leagra
(This story was first published in Paper and Ink Lit Zine, Issue #13: Tales From The Bar Side)
All heads turned as we stepped into Fisher’s, the dive bar on the boulevard. The stench of spilled beer and cigarette smoke enveloped us. We spotted two free stools, ignoring the eyes masked with lust that were already following us to our seats. We were within a few feet of the band, who were about to play a set. You were already scanning the crowd. Your eyes were alight with flirtation, inviting free drinks, maybe a locked bathroom fuck. I saw a few painted clowns hanging on the shoulders of older drunk and drowning men and felt sad. For you, it was a lark.
The owner was working the bar. He approached with your usual and looked to me with interest. I was new. Told him I’d have the same. The band was tuning up. The street door opened and a couple of guys you knew from high school stepped in. You called their names. They greeted you with broad, knowing grins. You introduced me, fresh blood. They were already assessing my potential. My body didn’t send the same signals as yours. There were no empty stools, so they stood behind us and made small talk.
You were making them both believe that either one of them could have you. That was your gift, your magic, your flaw. I was friendly but quiet and much harder to read. I was a mystery, a challenge. Together we offered a lush realm of possibilities. The sharp swell of music filled the room as the band started up. The guys used that as an excuse to step closer to be able to hear us talk. The friend facing me positioned his body between my stool and the one occupied by a raucous drunk on my other side. He extended his arm, resting his hand on the bar, creating a barrier between me and the man. He wore too much cologne and I found it hard to breathe. The friend facing you was lighting your cigarette. You laughed at something he said and tossed your hair back as you blew smoke out of the side of your mouth. You showed him how you could blow smoke rings and eyed him seductively.
They bought us drinks. You drank quickly, hoping to get as much as you could for free. I alternated light beer that tasted like piss with glasses of water. I knew I’d either be driving myself or both of us home. You got up to dance, pulling me with you, thrusting yourself over and over into the air between us. You hugged me, slurred your words. The guys watched us with excited, glassy eyes. I pulled away to use the bathroom, shrinking from dozens of hungry stares as I walked by. The muffled beats of the music pounded through the lavatory walls, giving me a headache. I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. I caught a glimpse of the woman who was already half-way home.
