You're always in for a quarter. Even in this jail of yours, serving your own self-sworn sentence. In my head I been count-culating your share these past two years-- "
"Count-culating?"
"I-- fuck you-- been calculating your share, and you're in for a motherfucking bitchload. When the floodgates open, brother, you drink free and long-- on me. This is my brother right here!" he announced to the bar, standing up on the foot pipe as four more beers arrived. "This is my sister here, and this is my fuckin' brother !"
Heads turned, but there were no cheers, nothing like that, the Downstairs accustomed to his outbursts. Jem killed his beer, then traded his empty for a new one, his sudden affection carrying him away into the room. Dez extracted from Doug the promise of an ass-kicking later at the bubble hockey table, and then Gloansy disappeared, Doug finding himself alone with Krista at the bar.
She pushed aside her half-empty bourbon and Coke and took up Doug's untouched beer. He tried not to watch as she drank half of it. "Proud of you," she said.
"Yeah." Flat smile.
"I mean it. Strongest guy I've ever known. Stronger than any of these-- "
"Yeah, okay." Doug got Splash's attention, pointed for another soda.
Krista took another pull, running her knee along the outside of Doug's thigh. "What was it that happened to us? Haven't we come through all that bullshit now? I mean-- here we are, the two of us. Still."
"Still."
"If you think about it honestly," she said, choppy, dirty-blond hair falling off her ears in daggers, "is there anyone else for either of us? All this history that we have."
The tilted bar mirror gave Doug a good scope on the room. Dez had retreated to his jukebox confessional. Joanie sat on a stack of Beck's cases, one hand gripping a Bud bottle, the other hooked in Gloansy's back pocket while her drunken fiance tossed off a nasty compliment at a woman walking past. Jem was back with the two unknowns-- Townie kids, young and eager-- regaling them with his stories, hands out like he was revving a Harley, getting laughs. The kids listened like bright-eyed disciples, and Doug felt an immediate distaste.
Frank G. saying, Those faces you see staring back . The haze of the room and Krista's closeness was working on him like deja vu.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life down here," said Krista. "I really don't."
Doug didn't quite believe that. He didn't quite believe anything Krista said, even the stuff he knew to be true.
"Can I tell you a secret no woman should ever tell a man?" She leaned in close, her warm breath tickling his ear. "I'm starting to feel old here."
She hung on Doug's reaction. "I'm feeling like I'm a hundred fucking years old," he admitted.
"I think we're being replaced."
Doug nodded and shrugged, dunking the lime wedge in his soda water. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."
Her beer was gone. "Not if you got someplace else to move on to. Someone else to be."
So routine was the sensation of Krista's hand inside his thigh that Doug only registered the touch when her fingers started to creep along his inseam.
"How long has it been for you?" she said.
They say drowning men feel the water get warm before they slip under. The pull of familiarity here was like the tepid bath of sleep. That's who you are-- the people you attract, who you keep around you.
"It's been too long for me." She had a magician's ability to keep talking into his ear while her trained hand worked. She was all over him now like the humidity of the room. "You know what I miss? Your high-mileage sofa. The grip I used to get on that armrest. I like thinking that every day you walk by it and see my nail marks there."
Doug stayed focused on her forgotten bourbon and Coke, the stirrer standing in melting ice, its tip nibbled. He felt a stirring
"Count-culating?"
"I-- fuck you-- been calculating your share, and you're in for a motherfucking bitchload. When the floodgates open, brother, you drink free and long-- on me. This is my brother right here!" he announced to the bar, standing up on the foot pipe as four more beers arrived. "This is my sister here, and this is my fuckin' brother !"
Heads turned, but there were no cheers, nothing like that, the Downstairs accustomed to his outbursts. Jem killed his beer, then traded his empty for a new one, his sudden affection carrying him away into the room. Dez extracted from Doug the promise of an ass-kicking later at the bubble hockey table, and then Gloansy disappeared, Doug finding himself alone with Krista at the bar.
She pushed aside her half-empty bourbon and Coke and took up Doug's untouched beer. He tried not to watch as she drank half of it. "Proud of you," she said.
"Yeah." Flat smile.
"I mean it. Strongest guy I've ever known. Stronger than any of these-- "
"Yeah, okay." Doug got Splash's attention, pointed for another soda.
Krista took another pull, running her knee along the outside of Doug's thigh. "What was it that happened to us? Haven't we come through all that bullshit now? I mean-- here we are, the two of us. Still."
"Still."
"If you think about it honestly," she said, choppy, dirty-blond hair falling off her ears in daggers, "is there anyone else for either of us? All this history that we have."
The tilted bar mirror gave Doug a good scope on the room. Dez had retreated to his jukebox confessional. Joanie sat on a stack of Beck's cases, one hand gripping a Bud bottle, the other hooked in Gloansy's back pocket while her drunken fiance tossed off a nasty compliment at a woman walking past. Jem was back with the two unknowns-- Townie kids, young and eager-- regaling them with his stories, hands out like he was revving a Harley, getting laughs. The kids listened like bright-eyed disciples, and Doug felt an immediate distaste.
Frank G. saying, Those faces you see staring back . The haze of the room and Krista's closeness was working on him like deja vu.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life down here," said Krista. "I really don't."
Doug didn't quite believe that. He didn't quite believe anything Krista said, even the stuff he knew to be true.
"Can I tell you a secret no woman should ever tell a man?" She leaned in close, her warm breath tickling his ear. "I'm starting to feel old here."
She hung on Doug's reaction. "I'm feeling like I'm a hundred fucking years old," he admitted.
"I think we're being replaced."
Doug nodded and shrugged, dunking the lime wedge in his soda water. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."
Her beer was gone. "Not if you got someplace else to move on to. Someone else to be."
So routine was the sensation of Krista's hand inside his thigh that Doug only registered the touch when her fingers started to creep along his inseam.
"How long has it been for you?" she said.
They say drowning men feel the water get warm before they slip under. The pull of familiarity here was like the tepid bath of sleep. That's who you are-- the people you attract, who you keep around you.
"It's been too long for me." She had a magician's ability to keep talking into his ear while her trained hand worked. She was all over him now like the humidity of the room. "You know what I miss? Your high-mileage sofa. The grip I used to get on that armrest. I like thinking that every day you walk by it and see my nail marks there."
Doug stayed focused on her forgotten bourbon and Coke, the stirrer standing in melting ice, its tip nibbled. He felt a stirring
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