six
The bar that had once been home was tucked away by the river in the Warehouse District. Alice parked her car around the corner, cut off the engine, and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She’d decided to give herself two minutes, two full minutes there in the car to collect herself, to make up her mind to take this step away from Jess and into the future.
It was the first time she’d ever passed up an opportunity like that. In fact, she’d spent the last five years mastering the art of making something out of almost nothing, going so far with so very little to go on. But now she just felt tired and homesick and thirsty. She lifted her head with a sigh, and felt for the keys, still dangling from the ignition. It would be so easy; just a twist of her wrist, and she could take it all back. Fight for her old life, for Jess, one more time. But the two minutes were up, and her car still sat parked on Constance Street, the decision made for her.
She’d barely gotten out of the car, barely drawn in a breath of muggy night air, when Chad came running toward her. At thirty-two years old, he still looked like a wisp of a boy, all spindly limbs and sinew with a mop of curly hair. Sam and Alice had been skeptical when Frank had hired him for the door, but then came the night he’d thrown himself between Alice and…
Anyway, they’d never doubted him again after that, nor had they stopped feeling guilty over it; Alice, for having brought trouble like that into Frank’s in the first place, and Sam, for not being the one to put a stop to it himself. She hadn’t been back since that night, not even in the daylight, and it had become hard not to think of Frank’s as just another home she was too ashamed to show her face in.
But there Chad was catching her up in his arms on the sidewalk, as if he’d genuinely missed her. “Please tell me this means you’re back,” he said.
“I missed you too,” she laughed into his collar bone.
“You’d better get in there,” he said brightly, taking her by the hand and leading down the sidewalk to the entrance. “Frank’s already been out here looking for you a dozen times.”
She grinned a little, reaching into her back pocket to retrieve her wallet.
“Don’t even think about it,” Chad warned, brushing a hand down the length of her arm. The gesture made her blush. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?” she whispered over the lump forming in her throat. “And I’m sorry I never really thanked you for-,”
“Don’t even start that,” he interrupted. She felt tears springing to the corners of her eyes and swallowed them back brusquely. “If you want to make it up to me, then let me take you shopping next week. I think you were wearing that same outfit the last time I saw you,” he said with a sneer, running his eyes down the length of her body and then back up again, and finishing the whole thing off with a dramatic huff.
She looked down at herself with a grimace; it was probably true.
“Now get in there!” he laughed, pulling the door open for her.
She stepped forward timidly, planting her hands firmly in her pockets as the door swung shut behind her. She didn’t look around too much at first, afraid the place would somehow suddenly be unfamiliar to her. Instead, she spotted Frank behind the bar and trained her eyes on him. He was in his early sixties, balding, with rough stubble on his cheeks and stubby, calloused fingers. The first time she’d seen him, she’d been almost sure he’d be the kind of man that wouldn’t want them around once he knew what they were. But he’d taken her and Sam in, no questions asked, given them a place to live, and jobs that paid more than they were worth. And in the end, he’d stood up for her in a way her own father hadn’t dared.
She settled onto a bar stool, and when she finally caught his eye, he smiled broadly back at her before he could catch himself. With a ridiculous little flourish, he mixed her a gin and tonic.
“There’s my girl,” he said, walking over to set the drink in front of her. “Happy birthday, kid.”
“Thanks,” she replied, lifting the glass to her mouth and taking a long, cooling sip.
“That should get you started,” he said. “But you have whatever you want tonight.”
“Frank, no. Seriously-,”
“Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it out of Sam’s tips tomorrow,” he replied with a wink, before turning to take orders from a group of customers gathering at the other end of the bar.
