mirror that framed the bar. âYou know what? I donât really feel anything.â
Jane gingerly touched Courtneyâs sleeve. âDid Craig do that? Is that how this night started for you?â
An unnatural glaze washed over her countenance. âOh, Jane. It doesnât matter. Really, honeyâ¦it doesnât matterâ¦â
Jane pressed Courtneyâs sleeve to try to create a connection with her, but it was useless. âBut it does matter, Courtney. Is that how it all started?â
Courtney turned to Jane, still distant but harboring a layer of agitation. âHow what started, Jane?â
Jane stared at her. âWould you walk outside with me?â
A suspicious glower crept across her eyes. âWhy?â
âI gotta get some air.â
Courtney glanced down to the bar. âIâm sorry, Jane, but I canât go with you. I have other plans.â She slid her right hand into her jacket pocket.
Jane heard the distinct click of a handgun being cocked. Her heart pounded. âOh, fuck. Courtney, come on. What are you doing?â
Courtney tilted her head. An errant strand of hair fell across her cheek; she allowed it to linger on her moist skin. âJaneâ¦Janeâ¦Jane. I have no choice. I canât play the game any longer.â She stopped, lost in thought. âMy kids⦠my beautiful children â I know the son-of-a-bitch touched Megan. Not like he touches me. She gets the soft hand. I get the fist.â
âIâll get you help,â Jane urged. âYou walk out of here with me, Iâll get you help.â
âDear, dear, Janeâ¦â Courtney twisted her hand in her jacket pocket to force the butt of the concealed gun into her gut. âYou have no idea.â
âNo, Courtney, I do .â She carefully slipped off the barstool and stood next to the bar. âLook, Iâve had a shitty night so far. I donât need to cap it off with youâ¦capping yourself off.â
Courtney momentarily looked blank, and then, as if a switch went off, she broke into uproarious laughter. âOh, Jane! You enjoy such a humorous twist to the English language!â
Jane reached out toward her. âPlease give me the gun, Courtney.â
Courtneyâs laughter quickly ceased as a realization surfaced. âItâs like the dream, Jane. Just now, you standing there like that, with your hand reaching toward me. Remember the dream I told you about? This here, right now , is it manifested in real life.â She cocked her head. âOr is this a dream? I feel so very foggy, Jane.â Courtney slid the revolver from her jacket pocket and, using the business end of the gun, itched her temple. The bartender could be heard slowly walking
away in the background. âHuhâ¦,â she said, her eyes losing focus.
âWhat is it?â Jane carefully asked.
âI just realized that I donât remember how I got to this bar.â
âGive me the gun, Courtney. Please?â
âHow did I get here, Jane?â
â Courtney ! Give me the gun.â
Courtney disappeared into herself. âI drove,â she muttered distantly. âHow peculiarâ¦â
âPleaseâ¦giveâ¦meâ¦theâ¦gun,â Jane pleaded.
Courtney stared at Jane, her eyes housing the specter of chaos. âAre you my friend, Jane?â She traced tiny circles in her cheek with the tip of the gun.
Jane let out a soft sigh. âSure.â
Courtney dove into Janeâs eyes, searching for honesty. âI do believe you are being forthright with me, Jane Perry. Thank you.â Courtney lowered the handgun but still held onto it. She regarded it for a moment as if she were seeing it for the first time. âMy, myâ¦â With that, Courtney quietly rested the gun on the bar.
Jane grabbed a napkin and, gingerly lifting the weapon, ejected the waiting bullet in the chamber and dumped the clip into her palm.
Courtney
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