When we came to the bar Emmitt and I had stopped at, Jim begged me to pull in. This early on a Friday, cars hadn’t yet crowded the parking lot so I didn’t need to worry about avoiding anything as I jerked the wheel to make the quick turn.
I parked with a jarring stop and uncurled my fingers from the wheel. Jim was already out of the truck and headed toward the door before I could turn to ask what we were doing there. I unbuckled, plucked the keys from the ignition, and rushed to catch up. I caught the door on the backswing and followed Jim inside. Two window air conditioners hummed in the otherwise quiet bar. It felt nice inside. Not a bad place to cool off.
Jim called to the bartender for a double shot of whiskey. I shuddered, remembering the tequila, and sat on the stool next to him. The bartender gave him the glass with amber liquid. Jim drank it down and asked for another before the man could move away. He repeated the process four times then sighed and asked for two beers.
“Can you get drunk?” I asked Jim once the man moved away.
“Yep, but I have to work harder at it, and it doesn’t last as long.” He pushed a glass of beer toward me.
“But I’m driving.”
“Nope, not anymore,” he said as he reached over and plucked the keys from my hand. Considering what he’d just consumed, I thought the key confiscation a bit backward.
“Come on, Jim. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
Instead of answering, he asked the bartender to line up another four doubles of whiskey. He handed me his wallet and told me to stop him when he ran out. The bartender and I exchanged a look.
“Jim, if I’m not driving and you’re drunk, how are we getting home?” I’d left my brothers with Nana Wini. What would happen when they got back to the house and I wasn’t there? I began to worry. How could I be so stupid? When I’d asked Jim to teach me, I’d just wanted to put some distance between Emmitt and me for a while, not drive away.
He winked at me and drank his whiskeys, this time spacing them out by a few minutes. I took a sip of my beer and dug through his wallet to lay out a few bills. Jim laughed and pulled out a few more.
“So are you going to tell me why you really wanted to kill me today?” he asked when I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Jim, we should really go back. Nana has the boys and won’t know where I disappeared to.”
Jim arched a brow at me, and I pouted a little before answering his original question. I didn’t really want to talk about it.
“I’m avoiding Emmitt.”
“I’ve noticed. Just can’t figure out why.”
I shrugged and took another sip of beer. Wine tasted better, but beer won over tequila. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Not really. You just need the proper motivation.” He nodded toward the dartboard. “I win, you tell me. You win, I leave it alone.”
I shook my head before he finished his offer. “No way. I have no idea how good you are.” If he could run faster than I could see, how could he miss a dartboard?
“Dice then. A game of chance. I might be ready to go afterward.”
Dice, I could play. I nodded, and he taught me a quick drinking game, only instead of taking a shot, the loser told a secret. In my case, why I wanted to avoid Emmitt. In Jim’s case, who taught him to sing in the shower.
Jim womped me. I took the last drink from my beer. Jim motioned for another.
“Because I’m stupid around him,” I said in exasperation.
“Explain.”
“I lose focus on what’s important and start talking about things I shouldn’t,” I said then asked the bartender for a sweeter beer. He gave me funny look but moved his hand from one tap to another.
“Why can’t you talk about things?”
If only Jim had asked what I couldn’t talk about; I would have clammed up.
“Because people take advantage of information. They use it to gain power, control.”
The door behind us opened, and a few more Friday patrons trickled in. I replenished the money on the bar as Jim called for more whiskey. He grinned at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“So you’re avoiding Emmitt because you’re afraid you’ll say something he’ll use to control you?”
I began to nod then stopped myself. Had I said that? Damn. I eyed my beer.
“Don’t blame you,” Jim said interrupting my thought. “He’s a bit of a control freak. O.C.D. Look at how driven he is to finish that apartment for you.”
What?
“I mean, you haven’t even decided if you will stay, yet. I tried telling him he needed to chill, but no. Be prepared. That’s how he thinks.”
“He’s finishing that apartment for us?” I couldn’t get past that tidbit.
Jim nodded and nudged my glass. I dutifully took a drink.
“Yep. Doesn’t think his apartment is a good home for you and the boys. Apparently, my decorating doesn’t meet his standards.” He rolled his eyes.
I hid my grin with another sip.
“If he’s not working on that, then he’s always listening for you. Or Liam. Or Aden. He leaves the apartment door open ‘just in case’. In case what? I say let it go already.”