“Another one. Make it a double this time.” I didn’t quite slur the words, but I would after this next drink. Wasn’t going to stop me, though.
“Are you sure? You’re going through them awfully fast.” The bartender poured the next drink as she asked the question, which was all I cared about. I nodded.
“I’ve got the money.” I took a healthy swig from the glass. “Is this where you try to get me to tell you my story? To spill the beans, as it were?”
She tilted her head. “You’re the only one here, so if you wanna talk, go ahead. If not, I’ll let you get shitfaced, as long as I don’t have to call 911.”
“Don’t want to talk. But my counselor says I should.” I pulled my phone out and thumbed it open, scrolling quickly to the photo I was looking for. I could find it in my sleep.
“So my family was in Hawaii on vacation. Our 20th wedding anniversary, and we brought the kids – when else would we get to go? My daughter took these pictures at a fire show while I was back inside, flirting with the hostess.” I finished the drink and handed the glass back to the bartender.
“The next thing I knew, it was chaos. Someone shot up the show, killing 52, including my whole family. I survived because I was busy getting another woman’s number.” I took my phone back, stonefaced. “I think I’d like another drink now.”