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“I hear you, Bandita, but you know my two night rule. I don’t know how you can spend months with a guy then dump him like that.”
I’m quickly preparing all the drink orders behind the bar. I’m trying to work fast because we have some pissed off customers who’ve been waiting while I was having my backroom tryst. A
I turn around and place all of the drinks on A
A
I wink. “Come on, A
A
She’s probably right, and I’m not going to lie. That thought has crossed my mind, and it terrifies the living daylights out of me. But you would never get me to admit that out loud.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not the falling type. I’ve fallen too much in my life already, and I’ve learned how to stay on track. It works for me.”
I hope that A
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe a word. I don’t know if I believe me.
“‘Kay,‘kay, fine. But you realize that screwing guys in the backroom of a bar is just messed up?”
The truth is I don’t even know what’s gotten into her tonight. She screws a different guy every two nights. With irritation scratching my throat, I say, “Whatever. So I don’t like to show guys where I live. It’s my private space, and I like to keep it that way.” A
Mickey’s is right next to the University of Toronto, where I go to school. A lot of students hang out here in the evenings and start their alcohol-infused nights by picking up their girl or guy of choice. It’s not your typical fancy bar that you’d find downtown. It’s more on the rustic side, made completely out of wood. There are a lot of pool tables at the back, beer signs lit with neon lights hang everywhere, and a ton of tables are scattered around where patrons order some of Mickey’s famous dishes, like a bacon double cheeseburger or curly fries. There’s also a stage, and about once a week Mickey brings in different talent to play live music, mostly rock. Mickey’s is popular, jam-packed every night. Which is good because I need to pay off my student loans.
A
Of course having an alcoholic mom isn’t something I advertise. It’s not often I think about those awful days, but when I do, I’m filled with the will to survive in the best way I can. What I do at Mickey’s helps me push my memories to the backroom of my mind.Dylan is harder to stop thinking about. We had been neighbors since birth. Our mothers were pregnant at the same time and bonded instantly. We were put into pre-school and grade school together and were good friends. Once my parents divorced, our parents no longer hung around each other. I became quiet and withdrawn at school. Being one of the most popular boys, Dylan had a lot of friends, and girlfriends. We lived very different lives. I need to bury his memory with the rest of my bad ones.
Back home it was hard to tell my story. University was different; a weight had been lifted. A
I had told A
Our rules were simple from the begi
Why am I even thinking about any of this? I look over to A
“So are you coming to that frat party with me after work or what?” she asks with her hands planted on her hips.
“I don’t know. Which one?” I ask, finally focusing on her.
She knows I’m waiting for her to respond, but I think she wants my complete attention, and I’m still wiping the bar. “Beta Phi, why?” She cocks her head to the side.
I’m a little shocked she has energy for a party like that after such a busy night at work. “Because their parties are insane, and I don’t think I’m up to it. I’ve been feeling a little tired. I must be getting my period.”
A
I look at her wide-eyed. “You do realize I was just getting laid in the backroom, right?”
She’s not fazed at all and waves her hand at me. “Whatever. Let’s go get laid. It’s a Thursday night.”
I inhale a deep breath. I’m miffed, but she knows I’ll give in to her. “Och, fine. Are we heading out right after the shift? Because I don’t feel like going home and changing.”
A
I’m about to prepare a rum and Coke, but I stop when I realize what she’s said. “You’re kidding me, right?”
She laughs hysterically. “I don’t kid about fashion, Bandita. I have a dress and a hot red thong waiting for me.”