6
Drowning of Sorrows
“’Nother shot over here,” I slur. I should probably stop soon. This is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow, but the place is almost all mine, the music is good, and the bartender is hot.
“Hollie, you want me to call Keith for you, hun?” Ridley the bartender—he is so adorable.
“Rid, why do you have to be gay? I want to get naked with a man who looks like you.”
“They all do, sweetheart.” He starts to pull my glass away.
“No. I want another one. Pretty please …” I bat my eyelashes at him. Or, try to.
“Maybe something besides schnapps, then?”
“What d’you recommend …”
“Something nonalcoholic.”
“That is totally not what I had in mind.” I slurp the last drops out of the highball.
Rag in hand, Ridley lifts my phone from the counter, wipes underneath it. It’s been chiming
