History
Josh Flores
“Remember when we first met? I ordered a shot of tequila with a Lowenbrau chaser?” With his head down, John’s voice was low and soft, but laced with deep regret and something else.
“Yes.” I forced my mouth into the practiced smile I’d mastered from years of bartending.
“You said I was too late.”
His voice trembled. I could sense something important wanting to come out. I cut a wedge out of the pepperoni pizza cake. “John, eat. You know how you get when you’re hungry.” The steam from six layers of pizza surrounded by crust formed a curtain between us.
“Too late?” I asked.
“You gave me that same smile you have on now, the one you give to everyone in public. You said, ‘They stopped brewing them. History.’” The edge in John’s voice sharpened, slicing through the stea
