“Another, please.”

I raised my hand weakly, signaling to the redhead behind the bar that I wanted another of whatever the fuck it was I was drinking. I knew I shouldn’t have anymore, but for the life of me I couldn’t stop.

I’d spent almost every evening here, hoping to see a glimpse of the woman who both owned and destroyed my soul. I knew this was a place she loved to come to, but in over a month there had been no sign of her.

This had become a habit, and a way to chase away sleep. When I closed my eyes, I could see her, feel her and taste her as if she was lying next to me once again. Then the sun broke through the windows and slapped me back into reality where she was no longer a part of my life.

I had become a pathetic excuse for a human being, bemoaning the loss of Mari. I was also running about ninety-proof these days with the amount of alcohol I had been consuming.

This wasn’t me. I knew this wasn’t me. This wasn’t who I wanted to be or how I wanted to live.

I just couldn’t seem to shake it. My feet found their way back here every goddamn night, and I found myself raising my hand for another, like a waifish orphan asking for more.

“Here ya go, son.”

The siren put my drink down in front of me, and I raised it in the air as a sad toast to her, to this bar, and to my miserable self.

Thick syrupy sweetness flooded my mouth, shocking me into spitting it across the bar.

“What the hell is that?”

“Well, I’ve let ya wallow enough in yer sadness, dontcha think? It’s time for ya to snap out of it. Yer never gonna win her back lookin’ like a homeless bum.”

The comfortable buzz I had been working was immediately gone. I never really let myself get drunk, only affected enough to numb all of my feelings. I glared at the bright pink drink in my hand, willing the offensive concoction to make the pain go away. Instead, with that buzz gone, all of my feelings came rushing back to the forefront of my consciousness

“It’s Hawaiian Punch.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?”

“Ach, no. I’d say ya were tryin’ to do that on yer own. And makin’ pretty good work of it, to boot.”

Her melodic Irish accent took away some of the sting of her words. My shoulders slumped forward in shame, embarrassed beyond belief that I had been giving off the impression of attempting self-harm.

“I’m not trying to kill myself.”

I mumbled out the words, sounding like a down trodden three-year-old, rather than a semi-successful business owner.

“Dane, you just have to give her time and space.”

She rested her hand on mine, the warmth of the contact somehow comforted and saddened me at the same time.

“You know my name?”

I was certain I hadn’t spoken very much, I hadn’t exactly been in the mood for friends.

Her laughter made me think of fairies, dancing among the wildflowers in an Irish glen.

Fuck. I must be drunk as shit.

“Ye’ve been handin’ over that credit card of yours far too often for me to not know yer name. Mari’s a good girl. She’s had a hard time and is workin’ to fight her way back. But, if ye love her as much as you’re tellin’ everyone ya do after a few drinks warm yer belly, well, then she’s worth waitin’ for.”

Irish wisdom from the lovely bartender and part owner of the Mo Grá Pub.

“Thanks, Kathleen.”

She grinned at me from ear to ear, delight and mirth filling her eyes.

“It appears ye haven’t drank yerself too silly yet, have ya then? You still know my name, that’s impressive.”

She winked at me and all but danced away.

Damned if she wasn’t right. If I thought I was pathetic when I was fighting my growing attraction to Mari while she was out playing the field, nothing was as pathetic as drunk me drowning my sorrows over my own stupidity.

I slapped a twenty on the bar, and stood up, surprised that I wasn’t swaying with the effort. Either my body was starting to process the alcohol far too efficiently, or I hadn’t self-destructed tonight as horribly as had become my norm.

The cool evening air further added to my alert state, and I walked quickly over to South Station to catch the T. My brother, Phoenix, had been adamant that if I was going to be an ass crab while working Mari out of my system (his words, not mine), I had to promise him to take public transportation or call him. He was pissed at me for being a little bitch, and I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

“Dane, is that you?”

Fuck.

A voice that was like nails on the chalkboard of my sanity caused chills to snake down my back.

And I do mean snake.

“Hey, Alicia. How have you been?”

She stood there, the physical manifestation of perfection, in all of her icy wonder. Her blonde bob fell perfectly, hair moving gently from side to side as she tipped her head to look me over, like a hungry wolf trying to decide where to start its feast. She was wearing a dress so skin tight that I could not only make out that she was extremely cold, but count at least a four-pack of abs. I didn’t bother lingering on her physicality, because I knew she would take it as an invitation. An invitation she’d been waiting on for far too long.

“I’m fine, not that you give a fuck.”

“What are you talking about, Alicia? Of course, I give a fuck.”

She rolled her eyes, leaned backwards a little and crossed her arms across her chest. She must be pissed to actually block the wares that she had been so clearly displaying only moments before.

“Whatever, asshole. One minute we are doing the final walk through of the QB2, and next thing you know, I had to read that you had opened to great success. I saw that the firm got a mention in the article, so thanks for that. But, nothing about the professional you worked with, no invitation to the grand opening, nada. Imagine how much fun that was to explain to Daddy.”

Alicia worked as an architect with a prestigious firm in Boston, an old money type of situation, and her father ran the show. We grew up together as kids, spending a ton of time together because our parents were country club buddies. As we matured and moved on to high school and college, our mothers hadn’t even tried to hide their attempts to match us up as a couple. In the past few years, it appeared that Alicia was game, but there was no way in hell I was sticking my dick into that Chinese finger trap, considering all the baggage that came with it.

I half imagined that she had a dungeon of torture in her basement, and that I would become her submissive if she had her way, crawling behind her on all fours while she pulled on the leash that connected to a leather studded collar.

There wasn’t any pussy around that would be worth that type of humiliation. Fuck that shit.

“Alicia, I have no idea what you are so upset about. I didn’t write the article. The Globe picked up the opening thanks to Cheyanne’s efforts promoting it at local colleges. What they choose to put in their article isn’t up to me. Also, invitations to the grand opening were sent to your dad. As a matter of fact, he attended, so why you didn’t decide to be his ‘plus one’ is beyond me.”

“Why didn’t you invite me directly? You were acting like a pussy ass little bitch and you know it. You’re better than that.”

“Jesus Christ, Alicia, I don’t know what the fuck you’re smoking these days, but you and I aren’t a couple. We never have been, we never will be. Unless you drugged me and rode me raw and I have no recollection, your body is one that has thankfully remained a no-fly zone. So, get that broomstick out of your ass and ride it back to your coven like the good little witch we all know you are.”

I turned and walked away from her, leaving her with a somewhat shocked expression that I was certain was mirrored on my own face. I’d never been so brutally crass with her, namely, because I needed her to finish a job without sabotaging it. It was oddly freeing to be an absolute dick to her, and let her know exactly where her place was in my life.

I’m sure there would be people out there who would be horrified to hear me talk to a female in such a manner. Little did they know, Alicia was no ordinary woman.

I shook my head, effectively shaking her out of it, as I boarded the subway train that would drop me a block from my house.

Good thing it was going to be a while before the next restaurant opening. I had plenty of time to find her replacement.