The bar smelled like fresh cut strawberries, and a wall of liquor loomed over us all.
Hypnotiq. Western Water. Colorful labels wrapped around each of the bottles like tiny advertisements. It was the place’s grand reopening or something. I couldn’t remember. How many more days until Verona was back from break?
I turned from the crowd of people to face the window.
The bar’s lights reflected back off the pane. I could see myself in it. The word Coyote was printed across my simple white T-shirt. It probably meant something, but I didn’t get it. The guy from Verona’s art class, my “representation,” told me it was a promotional stunt for some rich kid’s new clothing company. A bunch of amateur models were being paid to wear them tonight. A commercial no one knew they were watching, he said.
A new reflection appeared behind mine. “You a look like you could use a drink.”
I turned back to face the stranger. Her nipples poked against the fabric of her shirt—another plain tee, but this one had the word Jackrabbit. It was the girl from Verona’s class, the one who had been flirting with me.
“What makes you think I drink?” I asked. Over her shoulder, the bartender reached up the wall of alcohol to grab one of the bottles. Dangerous Oasis.
“Well, not to be rude,” she said, checking her lipstick in the window. “but I’d a be a drinker if I had to listen to that girlfriend of yours talk all day.”
“Sounds like you already are,” I muttered.
She brushed a strand of hair from her face, smirking. “I’m a just saying, I’m not one for chit-chat.” She stopped looking at herself to lean into my ear. “Which also makes me really good at keeping secrets.”
I missed a breath. “Well,” I coughed. The bartender shelved the liquor he had just grabbed and reached for another one. Acid Rain. “I guess…one shot wouldn’t hurt.”
She ran a hand through my hair. “Coming right up.”
Her ass didn’t even jiggle as she turned to walk towards the bar. It clung too tight to the rest of her body. I bit my lip while the surrounding crowd buzzed from all the different conversations.
“I said…no,” a voice mumbled, cutting through the rest. “Don’t touch me.”
I knew that voice. How did I know that voice? I craned my neck. Some girl stumbled back and forth between two guys in tight shirts. A slow motion game of ping-pong. She fell from one and into the other, pausing to rest her chin on his shoulder. She stared right at me.
Shit. It was Amity.
Her eyes were so fogged that I couldn’t tell if she recognized me or not. The guy she was resting on shoved his nose into her hair, kissing her neck. “Hey,” Amity slurred, leaning her head back. She tried pushing herself away and pounded her fists against the guy, but he just grabbed them both together with one giant hand.
I looked away. Not my problem. The bartender was talking with Jackrabbit girl, trying not to look down her shirt, as she bent further over the bar. He set down a cup and poured a shot of Mystic Mirage, which rose up to the brim and started to pour over before he noticed.
“I think I love you,” someone said.
The words didn’t match up with Jackrabbit’s moving lips. I dared a glance at Amity. But she was wrapped up in a bear hug by one of the guys. Not speaking. I needed that shot. And maybe just…half a Xanax.
“What? You’re not going to say it back?” the voice pressed.
Red flashed from the window, and there she was. Verona. Not next to me, just in the window. Her reflection loomed like a ghost.
Maybe I’d take a whole Xanax, just to be safe.
Verona’s mirage cocked its head to one side, flicking her pupils between Jackrabbit and Amity, then back at me. I shook my head, rubbing my eyes long and deep. Once I started seeing patterns of color, I opened them back up. She had disappeared.
I sighed, turning to look for Jackrabbit. She was practically laid out across the bar at this point still chatting. The overflowing glass next to her hand lit up like it was under a spotlight. Before I could decide whether or not to walk over, someone fell against me.
“Shit,” I said, grabbing the person to hold them up. “Amity?” Hair covered her face, and she still didn’t seem to recognize me.
“Sorry, bro.” One of the men she had been wrestling with walked over. The word Vulture was sewn into his shirt, and a tear slipped down Amity’s cheek. “I can take that back from you.” He wrapped his giant hand around Amity’s shoulder.
Before I could stop myself, I put my own hand on his. “Wait,” I mustered, trying not to think. “You know who this is, don’t you?”
The man’s friend walked over to join us, scratching the letters on his own barreled chest. Bobcat. “Yo, what’s going on?” he asked.
“This is, uhh was, Nathan’s girlfriend.” I gulped, trying to steady my voice. “You know, the guy they found buried under cement.”
“Oh yeah?” Bobcat asked. His shirt was too small. It looked like his arms were about to tear through the fabric. “Fuck outta’ here.”
Amity looked up as if she finally recognized me.
“Trust me,” I improvised. “She isn’t worth it.”
Vulture took another step closer, staring down his nose. “Hmm,” he said, raising a hand. I winced, shutting my eyes, as it came down.
He patted me on the shoulder. “Alright then,” he said. “Good lookin’ out.” He eyed his friend and jerked his head towards the glowing red Exit sign. “Let’s head to Nightowl’s, there’s better looking girls there anyway.”
“But we haven’t gotten paid yet.” Bobcat pulled at his shirt.
“You’re just going to spend it on pussy anyway,” his friend said. “Why waste it on hookers when you can get that top shelf shit for free.”
Their conversation waned into background noise as they wormed their way through the room. From the bar, Jackrabbit let out a high pitched laugh and pressed her hand against the bartender’s chest as he poured another drink.
Amity fell further into me. Her mouth hung, half open, and the whites of her eyes swallowed her pupils. “Jesus,” I muttered, sighing. “Let’s get you out of here.”
The clock said it was 10:54 PM. Amity pulled back and forth on the handle, too drunk to realize the car door was locked. “Fuck you, Kurt. Let me out, or I’m going to start screaming!”
Dashed street lines zipped past as I drove. “You’re already screaming,” I said.
“Ugh!” She gave up with the handle and slammed her hands against the window instead. “I will jump out of this car.”
“Jesus,” I whispered, slowing down as I pulled off to the side of the road. I threw the gear into park and unlocked the doors. “Alright, go ahead,” I shouted. “You obviously don’t need my help.”
She stopped yelling. Instead, her face scrunched shut like she was preparing for a storm. Tears ran down her makeup, smudging black splotches into her cheeks. I could barely hear the man on the radio over her sobbing.
We’ll be back with our next caller after a word from our sponsors.
“Look,” I said, when she stopped to catch her breath. “I know you all hate me or whatever, but just let me drop you off at Clair’s. You’ll never have to see me again.”
Personal injury? Automobile accident?
Amity stared at herself in the side view, shaking her head. “I can’t,” she hiccuped. “I can’t be in that house anymore.” Two headlights pulled up behind us as Amity talked, tossing our shadows across the dashboard.
Shit. The last thing I needed to deal with was a cop.
“Can I stay with you?” Amity asked, oblivious to the situation. “Just for tonight.”
We think you have a chance!
The car pulled all the way up to the back of my bumper, but even with my brake lights on, it was too dark to see who was driving. Not even a shadow. The vehicle itself was clean though, sparkling like it had just been washed.
Amity placed her hand on my leg. “Kurt?” she asked, pulling my attention from the mirror. Her eyes looked like burnt out craters. Tears pooled against both of her lids. “I miss him so much.”
What do you desire?
I put my hand on hers, and the pools in her eyes sloshed over. They ran into the crook of her nose and dripped down into her lap.
What are you afraid of?
No one had gotten out of the car behind us yet. I looked back over my shoulder, squinting. No sirens. No decals. Just a dark sedan.
Perfume by Chienne.
I shifted into drive and slowly pulled back onto the street. The vehicle followed, staying as close to my bumper as possible as I drove in the direction of Verona’s apartment.
And we’re back! Time to get on with our regularly scheduled programming.