MoonBound

The hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the thick scent of sweat and stale beer wrapped around Adriana like a second skin. The French Quarter never slept, and neither did The Night Cauldron, the bar where she’d spent the last two years mixing drinks and dodging drunk hands. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t what she imagined for herself when she left her small-town foster home at eighteen with a heart full of determination, a suitcase full of secondhand clothes and a once in a lifetime sister or so she thought back then but it had all become her life; equal parts gritty, wild, and familiar. She was three hours into her Friday night shift and already counting the minutes to last call. Her black tank top clung to her in the worst way, sweat slicking her skin beneath the dim glow of neon beer signs. The music was too loud. The laughter was too forced and her back ached from leaning over the counter. Still, she was surviving or at least coping, that was until… Diana turned to grab a fresh bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, her focus on the customer shouting for a double, when a hand, bold and unapologetic, cupped her ass. Not brushed. Grabbed. Her body stiffened, bottle in hand, heart thudding as rage surged into her throat like bile. “Come on, sweetheart,” the man slurred behind her. His voice was greasy, breath soaked in cheap whiskey. “Don’t act like you didn’t want a little attention.” She turned sharply, bottle still in hand, she locked eyes with the late forties i***t, bloated with ego and beer. He had a wedding ring on. His smirk was half-drunk and full of entitlement. Adriana’s jaw clenched. “Hands to yourself.” “What’s the point… of a pretty thing like you.. *hiccup* ..working this late if you ain’t looking for a little fun?” he said, leaning forward again his hands making a grabby motion. Adriana’s fist shot forward, cracking against his nose with a sickening crunch. His head jerked backwards but she wasn't done with him, she grabbed him by the collar, slamming his face down against the wooden counter with a thud that echoed through the bar like a gavel delivering judgment. He couldn't have seen it coming. Gasps filled the room, accompanied by a few whistles. The man slumped against the counter, groaning, blood trickling from his nose. “Diana!” Her manager, Wade, came storming down the bar like he’d just caught someone setting fire to the cash register. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “It’s Adriana and he grabbed my ass,” she said, pointing in the direction of the guy who was still trying to make sense of what just went down. “He grabbed me and was going to do it again, I was just defending myself.. everyone saw” “He’s drunk, Adriana and a customer” Wade hissed. “Well I'm not for sale” she replied. “You could’ve just told me.” “I have. I told you about this guy last week. You shrugged it off. Said he was harmless.” “You still can’t go around punching customers!” “And they can go around doing whatever they want?” He hesitated. He didn’t have an answer. He just sighed, scrubbed a hand over his thinning hair, and said the words she didn’t want to hear. “Get your things. You’re done.” The bar spun for a second…. shock, fury, murderous rage licked through her veins, it felt as though every fiber of her being was fighting to be let loose. How was she the one being punished, she wondered. Injustice and a rundown world is how, she untied her apron, threw it on the bar grabbing her jacket before walking out the front door without another word. It wasn’t until she slammed the door of her tiny apartment shut that it truly hit her. She was done. No more paycheck. No more familiar faces. No more comfort in the rhythm of bartending, in the simple satisfaction of shaking ice in a steel tumbler and pouring drinks that made people forget their lives for a while. She kicked off her boots and peeled off her jacket before crashing on the old couch by the window. The room was still and barely holding up. The slow creak of her ceiling fan and the occasional honk from the street below were the only sounds she could make out. Her eyes drifted to the cluttered coffee table that held the unopened electric bill, a half-eaten takeout container, and a candle she hadn’t lit in months. She stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight. “Perfect,” she muttered. “Just perfect.” Her life wasn’t supposed to look like this. She was supposed to have something figured out by now. A career. A plan. A path. Instead, she was twenty-four, broke, and always angry, whether it was at the world or her life, she couldn't tell. The light but continuous buzz of her phone dragged her out of her thoughts. She reached for it, expecting a spam or a reminder from her banking app that she was broke. But instead she saw the only name she wasn't expecting glowing on the screen. Juliette. Her heart stuttered. The name pulled memories from the back of her mind like dust-covered photo albums… memories of covered bunk sleepovers, shared dreams, and their unending road trips until they’d decided to settle in New Orleans. Adriana never stopped searching for the one person that had become her only family, never believed she was gone like they said. So she made the choice to stay right where she was in the hopes that she'd find her way back to her. And she did… She did? She answered on the third ring cautiously. “Hello,” Adriana said. “Driana!!” the voice on the other end shouted excitedly into the phone, her voice oddly bright and lively. “I was worried you might have changed your cell or something. Oh I'm so happy you didn't. I missed you Dri. Uhm So… this might sound weird, but I’m getting married.”