Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022

23.

If I were to ever make a Nicholas Sparks inspired film about a small town alcoholic and the kind-hearted woman with daddy issues who moves in next door, this bar would be the perfect place for having them meet. I ended up stopping after an hour or so in some rinky dink town in West Virginia. The parking lot I ended up in was right next to some dive bar which was perfect, because I needed a drink. Or two. Or ten. When I walked through the door, the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat hit me like a wall, my shoes sticking to the floor as I walked up to the bar which was so dimly lit, I had to squint my eyes to read the menu until they finally adjusted. I f it weren't for the bright blue and green and red syrup bottles lining the back of the bar, I would almost think that the bar owner had purposely tried to cast the illusion of a sepia-filter.

At least the bartender adds a little spice to the scene. I glance up at him over my beer, studying his jawline as he shakes a drink together for another customer. In the last fifteen minutes or so I've been in the bar, nursing a singular beer and twiddling with my phone (purposely avoiding my email inbox), I haven't seen him smile once.

"Hey, sugar." A shoulder bumps into mine, and, when I turn, startled, I find a white man with straw-colored short hair and a cut off t-shirt sliding into the bar stool next to mine. I look away, unamused. Normally, 'sugar' would be a beautiful introduction–except he reeks of sweat and vodka and is somehow stumbling while sitting down. When I look back, he's still looking at me, his eyes glazed over. I swear there's a spot of drool in the corner of his mouth. "I ain't seen you around here before–I woulda remembered such a gorgeous gal. Where ya from?" His teeth are bright white. Way too bright. I take a drink of the beer in front of me and look over his shoulder, at the baseball game playing on one of the bar's flat screens.

"I drove in from California." My voice is flat and unamused, and, for some reason, his smile widens even more. God, what the hell does he use on those things? Bleach? I lift my glass and down it, trying to get my vision to blur a bit, so the brightness of them doesn't hurt my eyes as much.

His gaze leaves a slimy residue on my skin as it moves from my waist back up to my eyes. "Damn," he chuckles, taking a drink from his own glass. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it's strong because the smell of alcohol hits me in the face like a truck as his words slur together a bit. I wrinkle my nose. "We don't usually get no Cali girls in here. Why you in Shepherdstown of all places?"

"Because that's where I drove." I roll my eyes at his attempts to flirt and wave the bartender over. His eyes look up at mine from the other end of the bar as he wipes a glass dry, and I study the phoenix tattoo on his arm, wondering if it means anything.

Suddenly, the man next to me lets out a guffaw and slaps his knee. As the bartender walks over, black t-shirt tight against his chest, rag still in his hand, the man's words slur together again, some spittle landing on the bar. "Sassy and hot. Man–"

"She's a woman, Jeff. Not a cup of coffee." The bartender reaches forward to take my glass and refills it without even making eye contact with the man. His voice is deep, and my eyes flicker back over to his forearms, tracing up his olive skin to the tattoo, to his unexpectedly full lips, to his eyes which he meets mine with. He winks. I look back down, toying with my coaster, cheeks growing hot.

"Oh, good one." Out of the corner of my eye, I see a fire flare up in the man's eyes and shift away a little uncomfortably. His voice has a sharp edge as he adds, "maybe you could go back to the college you flunked out of with that, asshole."

When I look up at him, the bartender's looking him dead in the eyes, a small smile hanging from the corners of his lips–the first one I'd seen. "If you're going to cause a scene again, I would recommend not." He points with his rag-cladden hand first towards the front door then towards the back of the bar, by the hallway where the bathrooms are. Two buff men, both with extremely hairy arms and absolutely no hair on their head, cross their arms and raise their chins in the dim light. "We got two new security guards after your little shitshow last weekend."