Sitting back on my couch, I look down at the half consumed bottle of tequila and Zoë’s engagement ring on the table in front of me. I run my hands over my face as I get up and head into the bathroom. Christ, I look like shit. Staring at my drunken reflection in the mirror, I turn on the water and splash some on my face before running it through my hair. I haven’t been sleeping for shit; the pain seems to never stop.

Heading back to the living room, I stare at Zoë’s ring and know I need to get out of here. If I sit here and stare at it any more, I’ll go fuckin’ crazy. It’s late enough, so Ling won’t be calling me to fight tonight. Grabbing my phone and wallet, I contemplate where to go. As I walk down the stairs and out of my building, I decide on the bar just down the street from here. With my hands in my pockets, I walk letting the cool air run through me.

Zoë and I used to go here before we moved to the city. I can remember walking this same route with her. Approaching the bar, it’s not that busy and then I notice the same red sports car with the dumbass FA5T license plate that cut me off the other day.

The wheels inside of my head start to spin – anything to take my mind off of Zoë I’m all about. Walking into the dimly lit establishment, Hazel, the usual bartender, notices me and smiles. I give her a wave and take a seat on one of the open bar stools. “What’s up?” she asks, passing me a Budweiser and then pouring me a shot of tequila.

“Not much, you?”

She spans her hand outwards towards the patrons scattered through the bar. “Just this,” she says. I drink to her comment, tipping my beer back at her as I set it down. “You doing okay?” she asks.

I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to talk about things, and raise the shot before knocking it back. She glares at me, and knowing Hazel isn’t one to drop things, I nod my head. “I’m doing okay.” She smiles at me. “Hey, do you know whose red flashy douchemobile is out front?”

She points to a group of guys playing pool in the corner. “I think it’s the one with the shaved head. I saw him pull up when I was coming in tonight.”

“Fucking prick cut me off the other day.”

“Sounds like him; he seems to be an asshole, making his girlfriend get his drinks all night.” I notice a girl sitting behind him texting on her phone.

“Is that her?” I ask, pointing.

“Yup.”

She has short black hair and looks miserable, poor girl. She takes a drink of a Bud Light and I turn back to Hazel. “Will you give me a Bud Light, please?”

“Fuck no,” she hollers, knowing what I’m up to. “I already covered for you last week.”

“I’ll take this one outside, I promise.” Hazel knew Zoë – we all went to school together – so on some level she can relate to what I’m going through as she lost her too. That’s why she accepts this fucked up drunken rut I’m in. She shakes her head not agreeing with me, but still hands me a Bud Light; I knew she couldn’t say no.

Getting up, I take my beer and the girl’s with me and walk right towards the douchebag’s miserable girlfriend. Plastering the best smirk on my face, I tip the beer towards her and she looks up at me caught off guard. “A real man would never make you get your own drink, sweetheart.”

She smiles at me and reaches for the beer. I give it to her and can sense eyes on the back of me. Holding true to my promise, I walk out the front door and head towards the dumbass’ red car.

“Where the fuck are you going?” a whiny male voice says from behind. I take a swig from my beer as I make the last few steps and turn around, hopping up onto the trunk of his stupid car. Watching him and his two friends look at me stunned.

“Get off my car, asshole.”

“Or what?” I challenge.

“Or I’ll make you.” He and his friends don’t look like they can do shit. I’d love to fight all three of them. I’d put a good ass beating on all of them at once.

Taking the last chug of my beer, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, tapping the bottle on his car. “I’m waiting, motherfuckers.” I raise my eyebrows and can see that he’s about to snap.

He lunges towards me, and with the bottle gripped by the neck, I strike it over his head. The glass shatters with a loud, satisfying pop, and he falls to the ground, his two friends standing there frozen, looking at me. “Come on, bring it, you pussies!” I yell with adrenaline pumping, but they back away and then his girlfriend comes running out panicked when she sees him on the ground. If he wasn’t knocked out cold, I’d lay into him, but looking at his face…he’s taking a nap, poor guy must have been tired.

I walk away and give Hazel a wave on the way back to my apartment as she stands at the entrance to the bar. She looks at me dumbfounded and just shakes her head. It’s time for me to get home. I don’t feel like dealing with the cops over this shit.