“Yep. About August they’ll start dropping like flies on me.”
“What you want?”
“Beer. In a bottle. You seen Walt?”
“He ran in and out of here a minute ago. Said he had to go get smokes.”
Earl gave him a beer then one of the tables called him and he left. Larry drank the beer and looked at the front door as the day began to fade and night less than an hour away. The hour between dog and wolf.
Walt returned and sat down next to his brother and they nodded at each other. The Braves were on the television on the wall at the end of the bar and they watched the game mindlessly and moved only to look when the door opened or when they needed another drink. An hour passed and it was dark now and Earl ran back and forth between the tables and the bar and the kitchen and it was going to be a long night.
“You seen Heather yet?” Walt asked.
“Nope. I guess she waited around last night until somebody finally carted that son of a bitch away. I heard her go in another room when she got to the house. This morning I left out early and—big surprise—she wasn’t there when I got home.”
“What you gonna say?”
“You mean what’s she gonna say. I ain’t saying shit.”
“I bet you won’t have to wait long to find out,” Walt said.
“Why’s that?”
“Cause she just walked in.”
She came their way and Walt grabbed his beer and headed for the back deck.
Heather propped her elbows on the bar. A strapless dress and fresh makeup and cleaned and shined. Larry shook his head and figured he should have expected her to be dolled up. It was the only way she worked.
“Buy me a drink?” she asked.
“You got money.”
“I left my purse in the car.”
“Then go get it.”
Earl stopped at the cash register and he waved to Heather.
“You got any white wine back there?”
Larry shook his head and huffed.
“What?” she asked.
“Nobody drinks wine in Buddy’s.”
“Okay. What do you want me to drink?”
“I don’t give a shit what you drink but you goddamn sure ain’t sitting next to me with a wineglass.”
Earl waited and she asked for a beer. “Happy now?” she asked and she nudged him but Larry didn’t smile. And he didn’t talk. She crossed her legs toward him, brushing his calf with her foot. He didn’t take notice.
“Who’s winning?” she asked.
“Winning what?” Larry said.
“That game up there.”
Larry raised his eyes to the television. “The score is on the bottom of the screen.”
“I can’t see that far.”
“Then get the hell up and go look.”
She had promised herself that she’d be more careful. That was three years ago and she had only become more reckless. Telling the blond man they didn’t need to go out of town. Larry’s head is up his ass. It’ll be fun to go down to the Armadillo. But she had underestimated Larry and made him look like a fool and the blond man had paid for it. She needed to calm him down before she didn’t have a place to sleep. Or a checking account. She wrapped a cocktail napkin around her beer and turned the bottle in her hands, her fingernails the same crimson as her lipstick.
“Are you gonna pout all night or talk to me?” she said.
He turned on the bar stool and faced her. He let his anger slide enough so that he could speak without yelling. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Heather. And you know why. How long you want us to sit here and play stupid?”
Larry had turned away again and she snuck a look at him in between the liquor bottles in the mirror.
“I’m sorry, Larry,” she said.
“Good for you.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. That’s why it’s so pathetic.”
“Why is it pathetic?” Her face had changed now, losing its playfulness and becoming more aggressive.
“Why is it pathetic?” she asked again when he didn’t answer.
“It’s pathetic because you think you can walk in here all perfumed and shit and sit down next to me and I’ll fall for it.”
“I’m not pretending. I screwed up. Okay?”
“No damn shit.”
“And I’m sorry.”
“The only reason you’re sorry is cause you got caught which don’t do much for your bullshit confession.”
“I swear to God, Larry. I’m sorry,” she said and she put her hand on his leg. He pushed it away and asked Earl for another beer. She stopped and let him mill for a minute. Thought that maybe she’d fake cry but she wasn’t there yet.
She wrapped her hand around the inside of his thigh again and half smiled. “I swear I’m sorry. And I’m done, Larry.”
“Done with what?”
“You know what.”
“I want you to say it.”
“Fine. I’m done messing around.”
“Messing around ain’t what you do. Tell me what you’re done doing. Gimme some detail.” His voice was louder now and several people from the tables took notice. Heather moved uncomfortably on her stool.
“I’m done sleeping around.”