Last Call by Allen Dusk Page B

had already half prepared the Mai
Tai in a ceramic coconut mug. "You're full of shit, but thank you."
After splashing in a secret blend of rums, he topped it with
skewered fruit.
    "I'm serious," the Chief said. "I don't
know what we're going to do without you."
    Sophie's head hung over her drink, her
ears tuned toward their conversation. Her chest tightened and the
thoughts of Lucas lathering his nude body vanished into a steaming
veil of uncertainty. Knowing her luck, she had a snowball's chance
in hell of ever seeing him step into that shower.
    "I'm sure you'll all be fine.
Bartenders are a dime a dozen these days." Lucas presented the
drink, hanging a plastic mermaid from the rim for his
encore.
    The Chief hunched over and sipped. His
face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Don't know why a fine
young man like you would want to move off to such a small town.
What's the place called again?"
    "Fort Dodge," Lucas said. "It's in
Iowa."
    "Why would you do a stupid thing like
that?" The Chief drank again, wiped the spill from his lips with
his fingers. "If I were a strapping young man, I'd be headed off to
a big city like Chicago to round up as much trim as I
could."
    "I appreciate your insight, Chief,"
Lucas snickered, shooting his eyes Sophie's way for a moment. A
touch of red warmed his cheeks. "But, there's nowhere you can be
that isn't where you're meant to be."
    "I'll drink to that." The Chief raised
his mug and chugged.
    Sophie's balance wavered.
Her wide eyes peered inside her towering mug. She licked her lips,
fascinated by cold numbness creeping through her teeth and warmth
slipping over her neckline. Damn, I drank
the whole thing already?
    "How's your drink over there?" Lucas
cocked his chin Sophie's way.
    "Good." She faked a long sip through
the straw, hoping her eyes hadn't yet glazed over.
    "Let me know when you need another." He
winked.
    "I think I'm good for now." She smiled
despite panic wrapping its slender tendrils around her throat. Her
heart started pounding against her underwire. She sipped her empty
straw and pretended to take another slow swallow.
    He had warned her not to
drink it fast. While she had done her fair share of partying back
in college, the duties of being an assistant office manager had
long ago distanced her from her old drinking habits. She couldn't
believe she'd only been at the bar for half an hour and she was
already shit-faced. That would probably be a record in Carrie's
book, and her friend wasn't even around to record the occasion.
Sophie could hear her laughing already, You're drunk off your ass!
    She exhaled slowly through the dismay.
Panic retreated, withdrawing its sticky grasp. Relaxation unwound
her shoulders, flowed down her back, loosened her hips. She no
longer cared about the tight-fitting skirt, or her twisted
garter.
    Sophie observed the conversation
between Lucas and the Chief, completely unaware the sound of their
words no longer carried to her ear. Sudden lucidity focused her
attention to the details of her bartender's tattoo. She studied his
Adam's apple bobbing, and wondered how his five o'clock shadow
tasted dripping with sweat. Light glimmered off his watch,
hypnotizing her with its beacon.
    A dull ache in her lap intruded upon
her fruitful buzz. She found it ridiculous to believe that the
cocktail could have filled her bladder so soon while its venom
continued to benumb her. She rose from the stool, holding her
breath until she found her balance. The bathrooms had to be off to
her right, somewhere around the corner of the bar, but she couldn't
see any sign proclaiming their existence. She paid careful
attention to each high-heeled step, ensuring a firm footing before
moving her other foot. The last thing she needed was to fall on her
ass and become a laughing stock for the last few patrons of the
night.
    Her reward for making the
correct decision was a hula girl sign on a door bearing the
word Wahines . She
could only imagine the embarrassment of winding up