A Snapshot of Dixie

31: A Star on the Horizon

TUCKER

"Hey man, thanks for coming on such short notice." I grab Flint's hand and pull him in for a bro hug.

"It's not like I had anything better to do. I didn't think you were sticking around though, Tuck. Don't you have a sweet southern gal waiting for you?"

"Yeah, I sort of had some personal things come up and honestly I'm not dealing with them very well. I tried calling her but she must be enjoying her normal life too much." I say the words, wishing I had some sort of dream to attend college like Dixie. Although she had to wait far too long to get there I'm jealous that she has that stability in her life. Songwriting is my only passion. If it weren't for my dad pushing the rest on me I'd probably still be in Alabama with notebooks filled to the sky with my lyrics.

"Ah, I know just what you need." Flint winks and throws his arm around my shoulder, walking us toward the bar. He taps his hands on the marbled bartop like the natural drummer he is to get the bartender's attention.

Glancing around the lively bar, I wonder how many of these people in here feel as conflicted as I do. My outer appearance says I'm fine but deep down I feel lost beyond comprehension. My parents, this whole mess with Stew and Jeffrey. What the fuck does it all mean?

"I need two shots of your finest whiskey, please and thank you," Flint asks the young bartender.

"I'm not much of a drinker anymore, Flint," I say, acknowledging that it's been three weeks since I've had a drop. Ever since Dixie came back into my life I don't feel the need to drown out the noise around me, but I suppose one shot won't hurt.

"Nonsense there's always time for whiskey. It's one shot." Flint smirks and continues drumming his beat on the bartop.

God, I wish I had his positive energy. Even though he seems to be harvesting some painful things he always sees life as one big party. A million things can go wrong and he'll still have that cheesy grin on his face, making everyone around him smiles because you simply can't help it.

"One shot that quickly turns into ten with your ass. I've never met anyone who can handle their booze the way you can." I chuckle, remembering all the times this son of a bitch drank me under the table. The first one to get the party started and the last to finish. That's my man Flint Miller. The only twenty-three year old I know who can make a sappy ballad sound badass.

Shutting down my stroll of memories, I notice the look on Flint's face suddenly turn straight as he stares off into space.

"It's all a part of the game when you're trying to block out the past. I've drunk myself into a comfortable state and I intend to keep it that way."

"Why do I feel like that has a hidden meaning? Are you talking about that girl from New York? She must have fucked you up bad, bro."

The bartender sets down our shots as Flint shakes the thoughts and picks up his shot glass prompting me to do the same. He raises his drink and looks at me, tucking his shaggy black hair behind his ear.

"Here's to me. Here's to you... and to the rest fuck you."

Chuckling, I take the shot and bite back the oaky rye taste.

"My main man Jim, damn! Although I'm partial to Patrón or Jack, Jim is a close contender." Flint lets out, slamming the glass on the counter. He tosses a twenty on the bartop and we make our way back to our instruments, getting them situated.

"Tucker the stage is ready if you want to sing something!" One of the ladies from the party notifies me.

"Alright, thanks." I offer her a smile as she blushes and turns back around to her group of friends.