Maxim
I’m at the bar for the third straight night in a row when Pavel plops down beside me on a barstool. He doesn’t look at me, just examines the bottles behind the bar with a cool indifference.
The bartender comes over and takes his order for a beer.
He sips it slowly, still not acknowledging me.
“Whatever you want to say, rethink it. I promise I don’t want to hear it.”
“Hmm.”
I pick up my rocks glass and gesture with it. “This time my aim will be better,” I threaten.
He says nothing, just takes another pull on his beer.
Fuck this. I throw down a fifty and start to get up from my seat.
“She was fighting with her mother,” Pavel offers.
I don’t want to stop.
Walk away. Just walk the f**k away.
Goddammit. I sit back down.
“Her mom was saying she should’ve let her burn.”
If Pav
