Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-six
Somewhere With You, Chapter 26
It’s late when Heath finally leaves the gym, going on eight, dark and cold and windy. Not the kind of night to be wandering around town on foot, but the Metro is only four blocks from the gym, not that much of a hike and since he’s trying to get some exercise, Heath ignores the cab idling at the corner and keeps walking, head down, gym bag over one shoulder and his laptop bag slung over the other.
Even with his long wool coat, he’s still freezing by the time he’s gone half way and he frowns thinking about the coat Jake left at his house on Monday. He wishes he could go back and do all of that differently but it’s way too late for that and he’s not sure what he should do about any of it now. As it stands, Jake probably doesn’t expect to see him anymore and based on what everyone says, that’s probably for the best. Everyone being Anne and Ethan, who are not actual experts in anything, Heath reminds himself.
And what’s best doesn’t really matter so much to Heath anyway. What matters is that he hasn’t seen Jake in five days and he misses him. He wants to get laid, no question about that, but it isn’t just sex that he’s craving. He likes having Jake in his house, enjoys the way he feels around him, and that has nothing to do with either friendship, which he really can’t claim yet, or sex, which he hasn’t had nearly enough of.
Maybe it’s chemistry… Heath doesn’t even pretend to understand what draws total strangers together, but there’s something about Jake that has been working on him since that very first night. It makes him wonder - if Jake had been some other guy, would he have felt drawn to follow him back to the restroom that first time or would he have even noticed what was going on at all. Maybe if Jake hadn’t been there and someone else had been working the bar instead - the other guy, Nate, for instance - then he might’ve sat there through the whole thing oblivious. He would’ve finished his drink, eaten his burger and then gone home to watch the rest of the game, Christmas shopping on-line during the commercials, clueless that he’d been batting for the wrong team his whole life and that in actual fact he wanted to get down on his knees for a man.
But Jake hadn’t been any other guy - he’d been his gorgeous, prickly, irresistible self - and he’d tipped Heath over the edge into the free fall of self-discovery that had landed him somewhere between in-lust and in-love, and very squarely in the throes of in-want, and Heath knows himself at least well enough to realize this is a condition that isn’t going to go away easy. He can be strong and deny himself if he really puts his mind to it, but what’s the point? There are plenty of battles in life worth fighting, but is this really one of them? If he gets his heart broken in the process, that’s just part of it. He won’t die from it, and maybe it’ll help him out later on down the road when he meets the next guy who might actually be the right guy and not just the guy who feels right but can’t possibly really be right because of a million reasons that don’t make a fuck’s worth of difference when he’s going home to an empty house and an empty bed.
Heath changes trains and takes the Blue Line towards Eastern Market, but when the doors slide open with a loud hiss at McPherson Square he gets off and turns for the bar, not sure what he’ll say if he finds him but hoping he can think of something that will make sense. It’s probably too early to get Jake to leave, which is a problem because Heath doesn’t want to go home alone and he doesn’t want to see Jake with another guy and he doesn’t want to have to pay to get to spend time with him. He wants Jake to come just because he wants to be with him too.
Heath thinks back to Monday morning, Jake in his bedroom, hard and hurt and angry, and he feels like a fool. As the bar comes visible at the end of the block, Heath puts his brain in overdrive, trying to think of something to say to Jake that will get them back where they were just as their alarms started going off, back to when nothing mattered but feeling good. Maybe that’s all he’ll ever have with Jake and when the time comes he’ll be happy to move along, but that time hasn’t come yet, so Heath squares his shoulders and pushes his way into the bar, hoping he can figure out a way to talk himself back into Jake’s good graces.
The bar’s not that big, mostly one open room with lots of shadowy corners and tall-backed booths lining the sides, tables in the middle. The pool room and restrooms are the only separate spaces. One quick walk-through tells him Jake’s not hanging around looking for business. He’s either on-the-job or he’s not there at all. Heath can’t decide which to hope for and considers checking the restroom but decides to wait instead. Listening to Jake getting some guy off would not be a good way to start the night.
He orders a beer, sees the look of recognition in the bartender’s eyes as he slides it over. He knows why Heath is here and it makes Heath’s stomach knot up knowing how much damage this stranger could do to him if he put a word in the right ear. Back when he was younger, Heath never understood why guys would do such irresponsible things when it came to women and sex. Now, as he sits on a hard barstool in a bar that oozes more sleaze than a lobbyist convention, he gets it. Even with all the negativity churning in his gut, his dick is still happy and hopeful, and Heath knows he’ll do whatever it takes to get it what it wants.
When his beer’s empty and Jake still hasn’t shown up, Heath gives up waiting. He’s cold and tired and starving and even though his dick likes this place, the rest of him hates it and wants out as quickly as possible. When the bartender - Chase is his name, Heath remembers - comes to see if he wants another beer, Heath shakes his head. “No thanks, man. Jake around tonight?” he asks, pulling a twenty out of his pocket and dropping it on the bar.
Chase cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, just takes it and says, “Nope. Haven’t seen him all week.”
Heath feels like a balloon that just got pricked, but with no phone number or even a clue where else Jake might be, his options are limited to here. “What time does he usually show up on Saturdays?” he asks, trying hard to look casual and not guilty as sin.
“Five or so,” Chase answers evenly, swiping at the bar with a stained rag.
Heath hopes tomorrow isn’t the day they finally decide to do a raid on this place, because he knows where his ass is going to be come four-thirty. “Thanks,” he says, then shoulders his bags again and heads out into the cold night.
*****
It’s close to two a.m. when Jake lets himself into his house Saturday morning. His feet are aching and there’s a twinge in his neck from carrying heavy trays all night, but it beats the fuck out of the pains he usually comes home with.
The house is cold, which sucks, but it’s also dark and silent, which is a huge relief. On the weekends he never knows what’ll be going on when he gets home. Tonight he’s not in the mood for anything but food and bed, so he’s extra thankful that everyone else is either out or asleep. He’s so tired he’d be willing to skip the food, but he’s gone to bed hungry too many times and the whole point of his life at this point is to not let that happen anymore.
Jake makes his way into the kitchen carefully, not bothering with lights till he gets there. The sink is full of dirty dishes and the garbage is overflowing and smells like someone threw something dead in it, or maybe they threw up in it. Either way, it’s disgusting. He shakes it off, doesn’t even care much at this point, just wants to eat his food and go to bed before he passes out dead from hunger and exhaustion.
He clears off a spot on the counter and finds a clean plate in the dish washer. He zaps his patty and the fries he brought home from the restaurant, then puts his burger back together, gets a beer and takes it all to the coffee table, still wearing his leather jacket against the chill. The remote is buried in the couch cushions and when he pulls it out it’s sticky so he turns the TV on, sees Spiderman swinging across the screen and decides that’s good enough. Tossing the remote carelessly on the table, he wipes his hand on the sofa cushion, then reaches for his burger. As he eats, he watches Spiderman crawl down a building and remembers when he watched his first Spiderman movie, how he wished back then that he had a superpower that he could use to get away from his life.
For about five minutes a lifetime ago he thought he had one, but it turned out he was wrong, that being good-looking and flexible was great for getting you into trouble but basically useless for getting you out of it. He thinks briefly of Heath, that inexplicable scene in his bedroom earlier in the week, and wonders how much he gave up by walking out. Probably nothing - guys like Heath don’t suddenly figure out they’re gay and then fall in love with the hooker who helps them see the light. On the other hand, Heath isn’t like anyone else Jake’s ever met. He feels solid, like an old soul, deep and true down to the core, and Jake isn’t sure he could lie even if he wanted to.
He thinks about that for a few seconds, then shakes his head. Heath’s a lawyer - of course he can lie. And Heath’s not a superhero any more than Jake is: he’s not noble or selfless or infallible. He’s just a guy with an itch, and Jake’s the first person he’s found who can scratch it. What Heath had to offer was a great job opportunity, nothing more, no matter how he spun it out in his own head, and Jake figures he’s the biggest fool walking for turning his back on a chance at that life, even if it could only last for a few months.
But he did and even with Heath’s card tucked safely in his wallet, Jake plans to live with his decision. Depending on someone else to do the right thing has never worked out for him - like ever. At some point he has to accept the reality of his life - that he’s got no one but himself to count on and he has to make it or not on his own. It sucks ass, but it’s where he’s at and this seems like as good a time as any to make that stand. Heath would’ve probably changed his mind as soon as Jake had all his bridges good and burnt anyway, and that’s a chance Jake just can’t afford to take. Not when he’s looking down the long dark tunnel ahead and finally seeing the sweet light of freedom.
Jake finishes his food, then empties his pockets and counts his tip money by the blue glow of the T.V. He already knows it’s not going to be great, but it’s still disappointing, only a hundred fifty seven dollars and a few cents. He would’ve made more sucking dick at the bar, possibly even twice as much. To make it just a little more aggravating, Jake’s pretty sure he saw a bus boy lift a twenty off one of his tables. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t prove it and he’s still too new at the restaurant to make a scene, but he’ll be watching closer next time.
The extra twenty would only bump him up to one eighty anyway and that’s way low for a Friday night. Everybody was complaining about how slow it was. Some of the other waiters said it’s because Valentine’s Day’s next weekend and folks are saving up for a big night out then. That’s fine for the other guys - they’ll get a chance to make it up then - but Jake knows he won’t get a last-minute call to come in on Valentine’s Day because the weekend guys always make it a point to show up on big tip nights.
To make it worse, the bar will be dead next weekend because married guys who get their dicks sucked by hookers every other weekend of the year usually give the wives a night out on the holidays, especially Valentine’s Day. Jake sighs and flops back into the couch cushions. Financially, and most every other way, February sucks.
Later on, when he’s lying in bed under a ton of covers, finally warm, Jake thinks of Heath again and the offer that’s maybe still out there on the table if he wants to take him up on it. He wonders if maybe he’s being too cautious. All he really needs is a few months grace to get done with school. Even if he doesn’t take the culinary world by storm, and he’s not even kidding himself about that anymore, he’ll still be able to get a decent job once he graduates. That’ll be good enough to start having a real life. In the meantime, it’d be so fucking sweet not to have to do anything for the next few months except go to school, work at his restaurant job and do some catering with Emily on the side.
Moving in with Heath is the only way to make that happen, and Jake stays focused on that aspect of it. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the other benefits, like how he actually likes Heath and would enjoy spending more time with him, or how he’d like to go to bed with him every night, get to fuck the same person and no one else for a while. While those things are all definitely true, they can’t matter when he makes his decision. If he pursues this - and it’s still a huge fucking if - then it has to be for the right reasons, and liking Heath and the short-lived illusion of monogamy he offers is nowhere on that list.
*****
Despite his best intentions, it’s going on six when Heath finally jumps out of a cab in front of the bar on Saturday night. Just as he was closing up his laptop and heading for the shower, his sister Katie had called, wanting to talk about the situation with their grandmother. That had shifted into a long discussion about their mom and how she’s going to manage. Heath hadn’t been able to cut it short, and as anxious as he was to get to Jake, he hadn’t really wanted to. His sister hadn’t so much as hinted at anything, but Heath could read between the lines well enough. Their mom is in for a long, hopeless struggle to maintain their grandmother’s health and dignity and she’s got no one to help her but him and Katie. Katie’s life is already crazy busy and Heath is a thousand miles away, which means their mom is basically screwed.
The place looks quiet, no one coming or going at the door, and a quick check in the alley shows nothing but a scraggledly-looking cat slinking around the dumpster, searching for its dinner. Sorry for the cat but thankful not to find anything that would bum him out even more, Heath hurries around to the front door and lets himself in, eager to get out of the cold. True to its outward appearance, not much is going on inside, mostly older guys in rumpled suits huddled around the bar tables drinking mixed drinks and talking low. There are a few guys lounging around a corner table playing cards, a snazzy couple looking seriously out-of-place at a table near the front windows, and a handful of men watching basketball on the bar TV. The pool table’s empty.
Heath finds a seat towards the end of the bar and waits while Chase pours up a tray of martinis. When he finally turns Heath’s way, Heath knows instantly from the look on his face that Jake isn’t there. He waits anyway, in case Chase has something to add, like he was here and left already, or he called and said he’s never coming back, but here’s a number if anyone wants to reach me. Heath doubts that’s the case, but it never hurts to hope.
“No dice, man. Sorry. Nate’s around here somewhere though,” he says, cutting his eyes towards the bathroom just as the door opens and a guy comes out, staggers the first few steps, weak-kneed, before he pulls it together. He’s seventy if he’s a day, sallow skin and bloated belly, and Heath has to swallow back the urge to puke.
“Uh… thanks, but no thanks.”
“Yeah, figured you’d say that.” He doesn’t say anything more, but Heath hears what he’s not saying, knows he can tell Heath is in deeper than he should be.
“Ok, well, guess I’ll head out. If he comes in tomorrow…” Heath’s thinking of telling Chase to tell Jake to call him, assuming Jake still has his card, but then Heath follows that thought through, and the truth is, if Jake wanted to call, he already would’ve. But he hasn’t, which can only mean one thing: he doesn’t want to see Heath anymore. It’s pointless to keep pretending he has any choice in what happens next and recognizing that, Heath shakes his head. “Actually, never mind. To be honest, I’d prefer it if you didn’t even mention I was here at all.”
Chase cocks his head. “You sure? He almost never misses a Sunday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”
“Alright, man, you’re the boss.”
Heath nods, leaves another twenty on the bar for good karma and heads back out into the night.
read more http://whiskiegurl.livejournal.com/22941.html
It’s late when Heath finally leaves the gym, going on eight, dark and cold and windy. Not the kind of night to be wandering around town on foot, but the Metro is only four blocks from the gym, not that much of a hike and since he’s trying to get some exercise, Heath ignores the cab idling at the corner and keeps walking, head down, gym bag over one shoulder and his laptop bag slung over the other.
Even with his long wool coat, he’s still freezing by the time he’s gone half way and he frowns thinking about the coat Jake left at his house on Monday. He wishes he could go back and do all of that differently but it’s way too late for that and he’s not sure what he should do about any of it now. As it stands, Jake probably doesn’t expect to see him anymore and based on what everyone says, that’s probably for the best. Everyone being Anne and Ethan, who are not actual experts in anything, Heath reminds himself.
And what’s best doesn’t really matter so much to Heath anyway. What matters is that he hasn’t seen Jake in five days and he misses him. He wants to get laid, no question about that, but it isn’t just sex that he’s craving. He likes having Jake in his house, enjoys the way he feels around him, and that has nothing to do with either friendship, which he really can’t claim yet, or sex, which he hasn’t had nearly enough of.
Maybe it’s chemistry… Heath doesn’t even pretend to understand what draws total strangers together, but there’s something about Jake that has been working on him since that very first night. It makes him wonder - if Jake had been some other guy, would he have felt drawn to follow him back to the restroom that first time or would he have even noticed what was going on at all. Maybe if Jake hadn’t been there and someone else had been working the bar instead - the other guy, Nate, for instance - then he might’ve sat there through the whole thing oblivious. He would’ve finished his drink, eaten his burger and then gone home to watch the rest of the game, Christmas shopping on-line during the commercials, clueless that he’d been batting for the wrong team his whole life and that in actual fact he wanted to get down on his knees for a man.
But Jake hadn’t been any other guy - he’d been his gorgeous, prickly, irresistible self - and he’d tipped Heath over the edge into the free fall of self-discovery that had landed him somewhere between in-lust and in-love, and very squarely in the throes of in-want, and Heath knows himself at least well enough to realize this is a condition that isn’t going to go away easy. He can be strong and deny himself if he really puts his mind to it, but what’s the point? There are plenty of battles in life worth fighting, but is this really one of them? If he gets his heart broken in the process, that’s just part of it. He won’t die from it, and maybe it’ll help him out later on down the road when he meets the next guy who might actually be the right guy and not just the guy who feels right but can’t possibly really be right because of a million reasons that don’t make a fuck’s worth of difference when he’s going home to an empty house and an empty bed.
Heath changes trains and takes the Blue Line towards Eastern Market, but when the doors slide open with a loud hiss at McPherson Square he gets off and turns for the bar, not sure what he’ll say if he finds him but hoping he can think of something that will make sense. It’s probably too early to get Jake to leave, which is a problem because Heath doesn’t want to go home alone and he doesn’t want to see Jake with another guy and he doesn’t want to have to pay to get to spend time with him. He wants Jake to come just because he wants to be with him too.
Heath thinks back to Monday morning, Jake in his bedroom, hard and hurt and angry, and he feels like a fool. As the bar comes visible at the end of the block, Heath puts his brain in overdrive, trying to think of something to say to Jake that will get them back where they were just as their alarms started going off, back to when nothing mattered but feeling good. Maybe that’s all he’ll ever have with Jake and when the time comes he’ll be happy to move along, but that time hasn’t come yet, so Heath squares his shoulders and pushes his way into the bar, hoping he can figure out a way to talk himself back into Jake’s good graces.
The bar’s not that big, mostly one open room with lots of shadowy corners and tall-backed booths lining the sides, tables in the middle. The pool room and restrooms are the only separate spaces. One quick walk-through tells him Jake’s not hanging around looking for business. He’s either on-the-job or he’s not there at all. Heath can’t decide which to hope for and considers checking the restroom but decides to wait instead. Listening to Jake getting some guy off would not be a good way to start the night.
He orders a beer, sees the look of recognition in the bartender’s eyes as he slides it over. He knows why Heath is here and it makes Heath’s stomach knot up knowing how much damage this stranger could do to him if he put a word in the right ear. Back when he was younger, Heath never understood why guys would do such irresponsible things when it came to women and sex. Now, as he sits on a hard barstool in a bar that oozes more sleaze than a lobbyist convention, he gets it. Even with all the negativity churning in his gut, his dick is still happy and hopeful, and Heath knows he’ll do whatever it takes to get it what it wants.
When his beer’s empty and Jake still hasn’t shown up, Heath gives up waiting. He’s cold and tired and starving and even though his dick likes this place, the rest of him hates it and wants out as quickly as possible. When the bartender - Chase is his name, Heath remembers - comes to see if he wants another beer, Heath shakes his head. “No thanks, man. Jake around tonight?” he asks, pulling a twenty out of his pocket and dropping it on the bar.
Chase cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, just takes it and says, “Nope. Haven’t seen him all week.”
Heath feels like a balloon that just got pricked, but with no phone number or even a clue where else Jake might be, his options are limited to here. “What time does he usually show up on Saturdays?” he asks, trying hard to look casual and not guilty as sin.
“Five or so,” Chase answers evenly, swiping at the bar with a stained rag.
Heath hopes tomorrow isn’t the day they finally decide to do a raid on this place, because he knows where his ass is going to be come four-thirty. “Thanks,” he says, then shoulders his bags again and heads out into the cold night.
*****
It’s close to two a.m. when Jake lets himself into his house Saturday morning. His feet are aching and there’s a twinge in his neck from carrying heavy trays all night, but it beats the fuck out of the pains he usually comes home with.
The house is cold, which sucks, but it’s also dark and silent, which is a huge relief. On the weekends he never knows what’ll be going on when he gets home. Tonight he’s not in the mood for anything but food and bed, so he’s extra thankful that everyone else is either out or asleep. He’s so tired he’d be willing to skip the food, but he’s gone to bed hungry too many times and the whole point of his life at this point is to not let that happen anymore.
Jake makes his way into the kitchen carefully, not bothering with lights till he gets there. The sink is full of dirty dishes and the garbage is overflowing and smells like someone threw something dead in it, or maybe they threw up in it. Either way, it’s disgusting. He shakes it off, doesn’t even care much at this point, just wants to eat his food and go to bed before he passes out dead from hunger and exhaustion.
He clears off a spot on the counter and finds a clean plate in the dish washer. He zaps his patty and the fries he brought home from the restaurant, then puts his burger back together, gets a beer and takes it all to the coffee table, still wearing his leather jacket against the chill. The remote is buried in the couch cushions and when he pulls it out it’s sticky so he turns the TV on, sees Spiderman swinging across the screen and decides that’s good enough. Tossing the remote carelessly on the table, he wipes his hand on the sofa cushion, then reaches for his burger. As he eats, he watches Spiderman crawl down a building and remembers when he watched his first Spiderman movie, how he wished back then that he had a superpower that he could use to get away from his life.
For about five minutes a lifetime ago he thought he had one, but it turned out he was wrong, that being good-looking and flexible was great for getting you into trouble but basically useless for getting you out of it. He thinks briefly of Heath, that inexplicable scene in his bedroom earlier in the week, and wonders how much he gave up by walking out. Probably nothing - guys like Heath don’t suddenly figure out they’re gay and then fall in love with the hooker who helps them see the light. On the other hand, Heath isn’t like anyone else Jake’s ever met. He feels solid, like an old soul, deep and true down to the core, and Jake isn’t sure he could lie even if he wanted to.
He thinks about that for a few seconds, then shakes his head. Heath’s a lawyer - of course he can lie. And Heath’s not a superhero any more than Jake is: he’s not noble or selfless or infallible. He’s just a guy with an itch, and Jake’s the first person he’s found who can scratch it. What Heath had to offer was a great job opportunity, nothing more, no matter how he spun it out in his own head, and Jake figures he’s the biggest fool walking for turning his back on a chance at that life, even if it could only last for a few months.
But he did and even with Heath’s card tucked safely in his wallet, Jake plans to live with his decision. Depending on someone else to do the right thing has never worked out for him - like ever. At some point he has to accept the reality of his life - that he’s got no one but himself to count on and he has to make it or not on his own. It sucks ass, but it’s where he’s at and this seems like as good a time as any to make that stand. Heath would’ve probably changed his mind as soon as Jake had all his bridges good and burnt anyway, and that’s a chance Jake just can’t afford to take. Not when he’s looking down the long dark tunnel ahead and finally seeing the sweet light of freedom.
Jake finishes his food, then empties his pockets and counts his tip money by the blue glow of the T.V. He already knows it’s not going to be great, but it’s still disappointing, only a hundred fifty seven dollars and a few cents. He would’ve made more sucking dick at the bar, possibly even twice as much. To make it just a little more aggravating, Jake’s pretty sure he saw a bus boy lift a twenty off one of his tables. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t prove it and he’s still too new at the restaurant to make a scene, but he’ll be watching closer next time.
The extra twenty would only bump him up to one eighty anyway and that’s way low for a Friday night. Everybody was complaining about how slow it was. Some of the other waiters said it’s because Valentine’s Day’s next weekend and folks are saving up for a big night out then. That’s fine for the other guys - they’ll get a chance to make it up then - but Jake knows he won’t get a last-minute call to come in on Valentine’s Day because the weekend guys always make it a point to show up on big tip nights.
To make it worse, the bar will be dead next weekend because married guys who get their dicks sucked by hookers every other weekend of the year usually give the wives a night out on the holidays, especially Valentine’s Day. Jake sighs and flops back into the couch cushions. Financially, and most every other way, February sucks.
Later on, when he’s lying in bed under a ton of covers, finally warm, Jake thinks of Heath again and the offer that’s maybe still out there on the table if he wants to take him up on it. He wonders if maybe he’s being too cautious. All he really needs is a few months grace to get done with school. Even if he doesn’t take the culinary world by storm, and he’s not even kidding himself about that anymore, he’ll still be able to get a decent job once he graduates. That’ll be good enough to start having a real life. In the meantime, it’d be so fucking sweet not to have to do anything for the next few months except go to school, work at his restaurant job and do some catering with Emily on the side.
Moving in with Heath is the only way to make that happen, and Jake stays focused on that aspect of it. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the other benefits, like how he actually likes Heath and would enjoy spending more time with him, or how he’d like to go to bed with him every night, get to fuck the same person and no one else for a while. While those things are all definitely true, they can’t matter when he makes his decision. If he pursues this - and it’s still a huge fucking if - then it has to be for the right reasons, and liking Heath and the short-lived illusion of monogamy he offers is nowhere on that list.
*****
Despite his best intentions, it’s going on six when Heath finally jumps out of a cab in front of the bar on Saturday night. Just as he was closing up his laptop and heading for the shower, his sister Katie had called, wanting to talk about the situation with their grandmother. That had shifted into a long discussion about their mom and how she’s going to manage. Heath hadn’t been able to cut it short, and as anxious as he was to get to Jake, he hadn’t really wanted to. His sister hadn’t so much as hinted at anything, but Heath could read between the lines well enough. Their mom is in for a long, hopeless struggle to maintain their grandmother’s health and dignity and she’s got no one to help her but him and Katie. Katie’s life is already crazy busy and Heath is a thousand miles away, which means their mom is basically screwed.
The place looks quiet, no one coming or going at the door, and a quick check in the alley shows nothing but a scraggledly-looking cat slinking around the dumpster, searching for its dinner. Sorry for the cat but thankful not to find anything that would bum him out even more, Heath hurries around to the front door and lets himself in, eager to get out of the cold. True to its outward appearance, not much is going on inside, mostly older guys in rumpled suits huddled around the bar tables drinking mixed drinks and talking low. There are a few guys lounging around a corner table playing cards, a snazzy couple looking seriously out-of-place at a table near the front windows, and a handful of men watching basketball on the bar TV. The pool table’s empty.
Heath finds a seat towards the end of the bar and waits while Chase pours up a tray of martinis. When he finally turns Heath’s way, Heath knows instantly from the look on his face that Jake isn’t there. He waits anyway, in case Chase has something to add, like he was here and left already, or he called and said he’s never coming back, but here’s a number if anyone wants to reach me. Heath doubts that’s the case, but it never hurts to hope.
“No dice, man. Sorry. Nate’s around here somewhere though,” he says, cutting his eyes towards the bathroom just as the door opens and a guy comes out, staggers the first few steps, weak-kneed, before he pulls it together. He’s seventy if he’s a day, sallow skin and bloated belly, and Heath has to swallow back the urge to puke.
“Uh… thanks, but no thanks.”
“Yeah, figured you’d say that.” He doesn’t say anything more, but Heath hears what he’s not saying, knows he can tell Heath is in deeper than he should be.
“Ok, well, guess I’ll head out. If he comes in tomorrow…” Heath’s thinking of telling Chase to tell Jake to call him, assuming Jake still has his card, but then Heath follows that thought through, and the truth is, if Jake wanted to call, he already would’ve. But he hasn’t, which can only mean one thing: he doesn’t want to see Heath anymore. It’s pointless to keep pretending he has any choice in what happens next and recognizing that, Heath shakes his head. “Actually, never mind. To be honest, I’d prefer it if you didn’t even mention I was here at all.”
Chase cocks his head. “You sure? He almost never misses a Sunday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”
“Alright, man, you’re the boss.”
Heath nods, leaves another twenty on the bar for good karma and heads back out into the night.
read more http://whiskiegurl.livejournal.com/22941.html