Meant To Be

Chapter three - Bell Buckle, Tennessee

The sweetness was too much. Casey had asked Mac for rosé wine and then whined while drinking it. She pretended to pull down her skirt, shifting across the seat to get lose from his arm dangling over her shoulder. He followed, tucking her in nicely again. Casey took another swig of drink. Mac leaned in close saying somebody needed to take Zac home, that he shouldn't' be out, he's a mess, understandable though, he couldn't bear to imagine anything like that happening to her. Casey took another guzzle of wine, her skin trying to crawl off her.

"Will we go?" asked Mac.

For the first time since they sat down, Casey gave Mac her full attention. "You're right Mac. Someone needs to take him home." She patted his knee before getting up and slid out from behind the table.

"Zac." The men on barstools all looked at Casey at the same time, trying to figure out whose daughter she was. She wished them luck as the cocktail of anger and irritation fizzled out in her bloodstream. There was nothing left to get high on. Casey's heart thumped in her chest as Zac looked right past her. Her mouth grew sticky as she swallowed, her salvia slow to grow back. She realised now she should have gone home when Mac suggested it earlier, that riding on anger was dangerous. They could've had sex in the late afternoon. She had wanted that. It'd been the plan before they even got here. To stay for only a drink. The morning had been good to them. But then Zac walked in and as his eyes stumbled upon Casey for a second time, she realised how different she was. "Can I give you a ride back? I'm going now anyway," she said. The last few hours had made him different too. One side of his face was meshed dark purple, stiches knitted above his puffy eye like a rough, convicted convict. Casey thought that would be a better reality, and then told herself she was going to hell for thinking it. That Dena would see to it for setting her existence alight like a piece of trash.

"I'm fine where I am," said Zac.

Casey sucked on her tongue to keep her face firm.

"Another one." Zac shook his empty glass in the air.

"I think the lady is right. You've had enough for one day," said the barman eyeballing Zac like he had a shot gun in his back pocket. Zac looked from the barman to Casey. She hated Mac for talking her into coming. I said no initially, she thought, wanting Zac to know it too. She imagined a warm coffee cup between her fingers. Its earthy bitterness on her tongue. Sitting at a table for two on the main street; people watching.

"Why are ya'll even here for anyway?" snarled Zac, moving across the floor towards her. Casey was about to answer, giving as good as she got when Mac stepped in front of her, grabbing Zac by the shirt like he knew what he was doing.

"Who the hell do you think you are speaking to her like that?" said Mac. He was taller than Zac, but Zac made it easy. He didn't try to fight back. Instead, he scoffed, belittling Mac's efforts; and then he looked at Casey, his lips holding high at the corners, letting her know he could see right through them.

"Mac let him go!" Casey pushed her way in-between the men giving Mac the worst of her anger. Mac pushed him back. Zac steadied on his feet. His grin as temptatious as the devil himself.

"If you don't settle this now, you're both out!" said the barman as he stretched over the counter. "I'm warning y'all."

"What about that drink?" Zac slipped in between the men on barstools.

"You're going to let him speak to you like that?" said Mac in an angry whisper.

"This has nothing to do with you!"

Mac's jaw clenched. He went back to his seat and lifted his jacket. He looked towards the door but returned to Casey. "I'm only going to ask you one more time."

"It's probably best you don't," said Casey.

Mac pushed his lips forward; nodded; smirked. Then he left. Casey followed him with her eyes across the bar and out the door. The regret seeped in as soon as he was gone. She turned with the intention of grabbing her things and going after him, thinking about the shoe being on the other foot. But Zac was staring at her, and he held it long enough to make Casey ask again. "Let me take you home."

Zac stood for a moment, saying nothing, his whiskey in hand. And then he too walked off, slumping into his lonely corner.

"Get him out of my sight before I do something I regret," said the barman to Casey.

"I'm not his fucking keeper."

Casey stood on the edge of the kerb, holding her face to the breeze. The day was beginning to leave them, the darkness rippling across the sky. She thought about paradise above the clouds. Dena on a throne. Casey's grin was cruel.

The door creaked. Casey turned around. She wasn't looking for Zac. She wasn't looking for anyone. It was just instinct. But she found Zac. Casey watched him from the corner of her eye. He laid his body back against the stone wall and lit a cigarette, making it apparent that he hadn't come outside for her. Puffing a mist of smoke, Casey watched it swirl away into nothingness. She wondered when he became a smoker. And if heaven was a disguise for nothingness.

Looking in the direction of home, it all felt so useless to Casey. She thought again about going after Mac. If she didn't now, the loneliness would entice her later. She would grovel and he would welcome her back into his bed like it were her home. And she would pretend it was, at least for a little while.

Zac's boot scraped the ground. Casey realised she was standing there for no reason. She wished she wanted Mac, really wanted him, assuming it would make everything easier.

"I won't take you home if you don't want me to," said Casey.

Zac clipped the end of the cigarette between the corner of his lips. The way the evening light cascaded upon him made him look golden and human all at once. Casey assumed it was Dena's doing. She couldn't imagine her letting him go that easy, even in death.

"Ok," said Zac.