kicked out when we just got here.” She appraised me more closely. “You’re in a real shit disturber mood today.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe the drummer would let me take over. He’s got to be what, ninety-years-old? If he keeps playing, he could die .”
“Dex,” she warned. “Come on, let’s get you another drink while he looks for her.”
“Yes, a drink oughta have me thinking clearly.”
We went to the closest bar and took a seat. There was no bartender, so I leaned over to the man next to me, an old grizzled thing with a beard that reached the table and said, “So if there’s no bartender, do we just help ourselves?” I reached over the bar in jest when suddenly I was face to face with a woman.
“You touch any of my booze and I’m putting this shotgun under your chin,” she said, her voice sounding as sweet as she looked, contrasting with her threat. She was around my age, maybe a bit younger, late twenties, and slender with a wide, tanned forehead, grey-blue eyes and curly, white-blonde hair that frizzed a bit at the ends. Pretty thing.
I grinned at her and raised my hands. “I don’t see a shotgun.”
“It’s under the bar, aimed at your gut.”
I cocked my head at her. “Are all bartenders this paranoid in the Big Easy?”
“Sugar, this is my bar and I’m as paranoid as I need to be.”
The bearded man next to me snorted. “He’s a tourist, Rose, just let him pass a good time and charge him the tourist price for drinks.”
I exchanged a glance with Perry. So this was Rose. Well, well, well. I felt a bit smug knowing that we’d found her before Maximus did.
“ You’re Rose?” Perry asked.
“Tourist price?” I added.
“Yeah I’m Rose,” she said, folding her arms. “What’s it to y’all?”
My, she was a prickly little thing wasn’t she.
“Oh, well, we’re here with a friend that says he used to know you. Wasn’t sure if you still worked here or not,” I explained.
She squinted at me. “Work here? I own the place now. Have for the last four years. Who is your friend?”
Oddly enough, I didn’t find it was my place to say. Either that, or I wanted to see what her reaction would be to seeing him, not just hearing about it. Was she going to jump across the bar and beat him up (cuz she seemed like the type to put those ginger balls in a vice), or would she act like she’d never seen him before? I didn’t know what their history was, and guessing was half the fun, especially when it came to bodily harm inflicted on him.
I was about to look behind me and see if I could spot him in the depths of the place, but she let out a small gasp and I knew she saw him.
Her eyes went wide, her hand went to her chest, and she said, “My sweet Lord.” I looked over and saw Maximus, halfway across the room, just staring at her, like he was frozen in a dream. I turned back to Rose and saw a wash of sadness come over her brow. Sorrow and regret.
Ah fuck, I couldn’t take any pleasure in this; this was ending up being a lot more sensitive a thing than I had originally thought.
“Max,” she said in barely a whisper, her eyes still glued to his. I looked down at Perry beside me, and she raised her brows and put her hand on my knee. She didn’t know what to make of it either, but suddenly it felt like we were intruding on a very private moment in a very public place.
Still, I had to say, “Oh, he doesn’t like to be called Max anymore. It’s Maximus. Yeah, I think it’s pompous too.”
Suddenly she was looking at me, a weird understanding in her eyes. “You’re Dex.”
It sounded like an accusation. “Uh, I am. How do you know my name?”
“I’d heard a lot about his asshole friend from college,” she said, and before I could say anything to that, she walked out around the bar, stopping just a few feet away from Maximus, hands fidgeting at her waist.
“Was I being an asshole just then?” I whispered to Perry.
She patted my knee. “I didn’t
I couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe the drummer would let me take over. He’s got to be what, ninety-years-old? If he keeps playing, he could die .”
“Dex,” she warned. “Come on, let’s get you another drink while he looks for her.”
“Yes, a drink oughta have me thinking clearly.”
We went to the closest bar and took a seat. There was no bartender, so I leaned over to the man next to me, an old grizzled thing with a beard that reached the table and said, “So if there’s no bartender, do we just help ourselves?” I reached over the bar in jest when suddenly I was face to face with a woman.
“You touch any of my booze and I’m putting this shotgun under your chin,” she said, her voice sounding as sweet as she looked, contrasting with her threat. She was around my age, maybe a bit younger, late twenties, and slender with a wide, tanned forehead, grey-blue eyes and curly, white-blonde hair that frizzed a bit at the ends. Pretty thing.
I grinned at her and raised my hands. “I don’t see a shotgun.”
“It’s under the bar, aimed at your gut.”
I cocked my head at her. “Are all bartenders this paranoid in the Big Easy?”
“Sugar, this is my bar and I’m as paranoid as I need to be.”
The bearded man next to me snorted. “He’s a tourist, Rose, just let him pass a good time and charge him the tourist price for drinks.”
I exchanged a glance with Perry. So this was Rose. Well, well, well. I felt a bit smug knowing that we’d found her before Maximus did.
“ You’re Rose?” Perry asked.
“Tourist price?” I added.
“Yeah I’m Rose,” she said, folding her arms. “What’s it to y’all?”
My, she was a prickly little thing wasn’t she.
“Oh, well, we’re here with a friend that says he used to know you. Wasn’t sure if you still worked here or not,” I explained.
She squinted at me. “Work here? I own the place now. Have for the last four years. Who is your friend?”
Oddly enough, I didn’t find it was my place to say. Either that, or I wanted to see what her reaction would be to seeing him, not just hearing about it. Was she going to jump across the bar and beat him up (cuz she seemed like the type to put those ginger balls in a vice), or would she act like she’d never seen him before? I didn’t know what their history was, and guessing was half the fun, especially when it came to bodily harm inflicted on him.
I was about to look behind me and see if I could spot him in the depths of the place, but she let out a small gasp and I knew she saw him.
Her eyes went wide, her hand went to her chest, and she said, “My sweet Lord.” I looked over and saw Maximus, halfway across the room, just staring at her, like he was frozen in a dream. I turned back to Rose and saw a wash of sadness come over her brow. Sorrow and regret.
Ah fuck, I couldn’t take any pleasure in this; this was ending up being a lot more sensitive a thing than I had originally thought.
“Max,” she said in barely a whisper, her eyes still glued to his. I looked down at Perry beside me, and she raised her brows and put her hand on my knee. She didn’t know what to make of it either, but suddenly it felt like we were intruding on a very private moment in a very public place.
Still, I had to say, “Oh, he doesn’t like to be called Max anymore. It’s Maximus. Yeah, I think it’s pompous too.”
Suddenly she was looking at me, a weird understanding in her eyes. “You’re Dex.”
It sounded like an accusation. “Uh, I am. How do you know my name?”
“I’d heard a lot about his asshole friend from college,” she said, and before I could say anything to that, she walked out around the bar, stopping just a few feet away from Maximus, hands fidgeting at her waist.
“Was I being an asshole just then?” I whispered to Perry.
She patted my knee. “I didn’t
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