Sadie (18+)

Chapter 18

I parked far away from Vincent, although I doubt we'd see any familiar faces at this dingy bar on the outskirts of town. It was a restaurant, too, but it was clear people didn't really come for the food.

Before I even had my foot in the door, Vincent turned to me with a finger pointed at my face. "You're not drinking."

I rolled my eyes. "Why am I even here, then?"

He didn't respond, instead motioning for me to follow him through the crowded bar. Surprisingly, I wasn't checked for the ID I didn't have; we walked in smoothly and quietly. There was an abundance of men—short and stocky men, tall men with scraggly beards, men entranced at the football game that played on the television above the bar. There wasn't a single woman here aside from the bartenders, but I wasn't surprised by that.

Vincent certainly didn't seem like the type of man to frequent a place like this.

We found a table in a dark corner near the restrooms where the light was broken, flickering incessantly.

"Stay put," he said. "I'm getting myself a beer. Do you want a soda or something?"

"Sure," I said. "Thanks."

When he left the table I scanned the room. Two men in construction uniforms and work boots looked over at me as they talked, a bowl of peanuts between them, empty glasses scattered upon the table. I gave a coy smile, the inviting kind, the one that older men love when they see a younger girl wear it. One of them laughed. So silly and cute, they must think. Hopefully cute enough to buy me a drink.

"What's the deal?" I asked when he returned. "Out of all places to go, why here?"

"I used to come here when I was around your age, maybe a bit older," he said, chuckling lightly. "We thought it was so cool. Nobody knew about it. It got old fast, but sometimes I come back."

I nodded, watching him take a sip of his beer, his fingers gripped around the glass dripping with condensation. I imagined Vincent as a rebellious teen, laughing with his friends and drinking. I didn't want to ask how old he was, but I knew he was somewhere in his forties now. I'd have to remember to ask Julia sometime.

"So that's what Gina's pissed about. You want to drink," I said. "We're more alike than you think, huh?"

His face hardened, lips flattening into a thin line. "Couples fight, Sadie. It's not a big deal."

I held my hands up defensively. "Never said it was. Relax."

As we looked at each other in our shadowed corner, the tension slowly rising, one of the bartenders stopped by our table. Her arms were clad in dark tattoos, her red hair tied up into a messy bun. An abundance of wrinkles lined her mildly aging face, but she was beautiful nonetheless.

"From the men over there," she said, pointing at the pair, then put down three shot glasses from a tray, each filled to the brim with a light brown liquid. She turned to look at me, studying me, perhaps ready to escort me out of the bar for being underaged, but then turned back around and walked away as if it weren't worth the trouble.

"That was close," I said, breathing out a loud sigh. I went to grab a shot before a hand reached out and took hold of my wrist.

"What did you do?" he asked accusingly, looking between me and the two men who seemed entertained by the dispute. "Did you ask them for that?"

I shook my wrist free, alarmed. "What's your problem? I didn't do anything."

He palmed his eyelids for a moment, then downed the rest of his beer. "I'm getting another. I'm sorry I grabbed you."