friend was gone, despite my constantly ringing phone. About two hours in, I smashed it with the bottle of tequila. And my, what did I call her, what could I call her? Girlfriend? No, I’d thrown too many of those away. Lover? Sounded like a bad movie. Life? That was it. My life was gone. Over at twenty-one. In a few well played photos. No. Fuck the photos. In a lie that became so big it eventually killed her, killed me.
So all I had was a couple hundred bucks, a shell that somewhat resembled my body, and a bottle of tequila, or was I on to two bottles?
My heart wasn’t just broken. Someone had sat astride my body and carefully sliced into my chest so they could take it, steal it when I wasn’t watching. And then she chipped away at it bit by bit. My heart was scattered, pieces abandoned on the roadside from Sacramento International, to neon alleys in Vegas, to this little slice of land on the Sea of Cortez.
Vito had followed the trail of blood, collecting specimens, so he could deliver that final blow. So he could open up my chest and show me it was vacant. In that space, he tried to shove some cash to stem the flow, but Reese had already tried, and money didn’t beat the same way.
*
I was still alone. I’d spoken to exactly two people after entering the cantina. The bartender and a guy who asked me for a light. I didn’t have a light.
It was late. I knew that much. Without a watch or a cell phone, I wasn’t sure how late, or how early. All I knew was it had been dark outside for a long time. The crowd in the bar had swelled and then started thinning again. The night was waning.
I knew I would need sleep at some point. That point was very far away, though, so I wasn’t worried. Sleeping meant dreaming. Something I refused to do.
“You’ve been sitting here a long time, honey.” A girl, no, a woman sat at my table. “Are you waiting for someone?” She had an accent, but not like everyone else here. It was faint and smooth and cool. Very East Coast.
I tried to respond, opened my mouth, but nothing came out so I just shook my head.
“This isn’t the best cantina in town. You might want to be waiting for someone,” she suggested. Guess she was concerned for my well-being.
“I’m…I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will. I thought you were a boy until I saw those pretty eyes. That’s probably why no one is hassling you.” She extended a manicured hand across the table. “I’m Joan, by the way.” The words rolled off her tongue as if she were tasting them. Each insignificant word suddenly had elevated meaning.
“Cooper.” I shook her hand remembering at the last moment to actually grip, just like my mom taught me.
“Why are you sitting here drinking alone, Cooper?”
I thought about that. “It’s better than not drinking. Alone.” My speech wasn’t even slurred. Now that was something to be proud of.
“Would you mind company?”
Slowly, I shook my head. Moving quickly tended to make things spin. Pointedly, I held up my hand and caught the bartender’s attention. He came around the bar, now almost empty, to my table.
“Something else for you?” His eyes flickered to the half-empty bottle.
“Another glass.” Still not slurring. “For the lady.”
He smiled and returned moments later with a glass.
“ Gracias .” I poured some tequila into the fresh glass then filled mine again.
“Thank you.” Joan saluted me with her drink and emptied it in two perfect swallows.
“Thirsty?” I refilled her glass.
“Trying to catch up. You’re quite a bit ahead of me.”
Not something I felt like addressing.
“You’re American,” I stated. Speaking was hard, but it was also distracting. Distracting was good. “East Coast.” She had the same infuriating intonation Reese had picked up in the last couple years. By the end of summer, it wore off only to return with a vengeance at Christmas. I wished I didn’t find it so sexy.
Joan smiled and swallowed her second drink.
So all I had was a couple hundred bucks, a shell that somewhat resembled my body, and a bottle of tequila, or was I on to two bottles?
My heart wasn’t just broken. Someone had sat astride my body and carefully sliced into my chest so they could take it, steal it when I wasn’t watching. And then she chipped away at it bit by bit. My heart was scattered, pieces abandoned on the roadside from Sacramento International, to neon alleys in Vegas, to this little slice of land on the Sea of Cortez.
Vito had followed the trail of blood, collecting specimens, so he could deliver that final blow. So he could open up my chest and show me it was vacant. In that space, he tried to shove some cash to stem the flow, but Reese had already tried, and money didn’t beat the same way.
*
I was still alone. I’d spoken to exactly two people after entering the cantina. The bartender and a guy who asked me for a light. I didn’t have a light.
It was late. I knew that much. Without a watch or a cell phone, I wasn’t sure how late, or how early. All I knew was it had been dark outside for a long time. The crowd in the bar had swelled and then started thinning again. The night was waning.
I knew I would need sleep at some point. That point was very far away, though, so I wasn’t worried. Sleeping meant dreaming. Something I refused to do.
“You’ve been sitting here a long time, honey.” A girl, no, a woman sat at my table. “Are you waiting for someone?” She had an accent, but not like everyone else here. It was faint and smooth and cool. Very East Coast.
I tried to respond, opened my mouth, but nothing came out so I just shook my head.
“This isn’t the best cantina in town. You might want to be waiting for someone,” she suggested. Guess she was concerned for my well-being.
“I’m…I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will. I thought you were a boy until I saw those pretty eyes. That’s probably why no one is hassling you.” She extended a manicured hand across the table. “I’m Joan, by the way.” The words rolled off her tongue as if she were tasting them. Each insignificant word suddenly had elevated meaning.
“Cooper.” I shook her hand remembering at the last moment to actually grip, just like my mom taught me.
“Why are you sitting here drinking alone, Cooper?”
I thought about that. “It’s better than not drinking. Alone.” My speech wasn’t even slurred. Now that was something to be proud of.
“Would you mind company?”
Slowly, I shook my head. Moving quickly tended to make things spin. Pointedly, I held up my hand and caught the bartender’s attention. He came around the bar, now almost empty, to my table.
“Something else for you?” His eyes flickered to the half-empty bottle.
“Another glass.” Still not slurring. “For the lady.”
He smiled and returned moments later with a glass.
“ Gracias .” I poured some tequila into the fresh glass then filled mine again.
“Thank you.” Joan saluted me with her drink and emptied it in two perfect swallows.
“Thirsty?” I refilled her glass.
“Trying to catch up. You’re quite a bit ahead of me.”
Not something I felt like addressing.
“You’re American,” I stated. Speaking was hard, but it was also distracting. Distracting was good. “East Coast.” She had the same infuriating intonation Reese had picked up in the last couple years. By the end of summer, it wore off only to return with a vengeance at Christmas. I wished I didn’t find it so sexy.
Joan smiled and swallowed her second drink.
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