Then I have a third. And a fourth. And a fifth.
By the sixth, Gus takes my keys and I know I’m walking home, but that’s fine by me. It just means I can add shots of bourbon with my beers. I’m feeling lose, relaxed, and completely not on edge when I think about Jane. In fact, one could say that the alcohol is sort of numbing the feelings of desperation that have been slowly mounting the past three days of not hearing from or seeing her. I mean, forget about the sex. I’m a little put out that I just haven’t seen her, and that’s been pissing me off.
I mean, really… what more does she want? I purposely did outside work the last three days around the cottage and lighthouse, giving her ample opportunity to see me and come talk. Yet not a peep out of her. Tonight, I realized I probably had my answer from her.
She wasn’t going to accept my conditions on a relationship, and frankly, I can’t blame her.
I hold my hand up to get Gus’s attention. When he looks at me, I say, “Just keep them coming all night.”
Gus gives a wry smile and nods, then turns his attention back to the customer he’d been talking to.
I stare at my beer, taking periodic sips and wondering when in the hell I’ll be able to get out of Misty Harbor. Not for a few months as the trial wouldn’t start until then, and I consider perhaps asking Joe to move me earlier.
Maybe to Puerto Rico or something.
“Here you go,” I hear a female voice say, and another draft beer slides into my view. I look up and see Jane’s friend, Miranda, standing on the other side of the bar. “Gus said you wanted to keep them coming, so here’s your next one.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. My tongue feels like it’s glued to the top of my mouth. I also note that unless I squint, there are actually two Mirandas in front of me, and because I don’t think she has a twin, I know I’m on my way to getting stinking ass drunk.
“Why are you in here all by yourself getting shitfaced?” she asks as she rests her forearms on the bar and leans in toward me. She’s grinning and cracking bubble gum.
I don’t want to talk to her, and yet I can’t seem to stop myself. “Your friend… Jane…”
She grins even bigger, chews her gum with exaggeration, and waits me out. She makes me deliver more information.
I give a careless wave of my hand toward the direction I suspect is Jane’s house, but I’m not sure. “She’s trying to decide if she wants to have a sexual fling with me or not.”
Miranda raises an eyebrow, but she’s still amused. This means she knows what happened between Jane and me. It also means she knows Jane hasn’t given me her decision, and by that inaction, I’m choosing to believe I know what her decision is. So I just bend my head over the bar and sullenly stare into my beer.
“She doesn’t know what to do,” Miranda offers me, and my head snaps up. A rush of dizziness hits me, and my hands slap to the bar to keep my balance on the stool.
“She tell you that?” I ask… well, maybe slur. I hope to God I remember this conversation tomorrow.
“Well, of course she told me that,” Miranda says, then blows a bubble with her gum. I watch as she sucks it back in and says, “She tells me everything.”
“Everything?”
Miranda leans in closer to me and nods her head. “Everything.”
My mind races. She clearly knows I’ve put out some boundaries with Jane, but does she know about that amazing, hot, beautiful, and mind-blowing sex we had? And if she does, does that help or hurt me? Would Miranda help Jane make the decision to stick with me while I’m here?
You’re such a selfish fuck, my conscience screams at me. Because I’m trying to be a good guy where Jane is concerned, and make sure that I do everything in my power not to hurt her, I bend my head back over my beer and decide to ignore Miranda. It’s not going to do any good to get her involved, and besides that… I’m drunk. I have no business doing anything but getting my ass home and into bed.
Except, I do need to finish this beer.
“Want my advice?” Miranda asks.
“Nope,” I say without looking up at her, because if she gives me that knowing smirk like she’s privy to Jane’s innermost secrets, I might continue to engage her.
“Suit yourself,” she says as she pushes away from the bar. “I’ll keep an eye on your beer.”